The rest of our weekend passed in a lovely haze of work and play. I took Kai’s writer’s block suggestions and actually implemented them instead of reading them over and over like the benefits would somehow transfer through osmosis.
I quickly found out meditating wasn’t for me, but the creative play suggestion helped. So did the orgasm one, much to his (and my) satisfaction.
By the time we returned to New York, I’d written twenty-five thousand words and debated Alessandra’s job offer to death. In the end, I accepted.
Kai was right. I needed to have more faith in myself. Plus, she was offering a great salary, and I had zero motivation to trawl through job search sites.
Once I accepted, things moved quickly. Three days after my return, I started my first day of work as Alessandra’s business assistant (actual business name pending). Kai was in California again for DigiStream talks, but I woke up to an oh so encouraging voice note from him that morning.
Remember, you read a full page of Austen while getting spanked. If you can do that, you can do anything.
He had a point, but that didn’t stop nerves from buffeting my stomach as I followed Alessandra through her apartment.
The Davenports lived in a sprawling modern penthouse in Hudson Yards, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows, a floating glass spiral staircase, and a private terrace with a plunge pool and fire pit. It was absurdly large for two people, and it brimmed with so many priceless items I was afraid of touching anything lest I accidentally break a two-million-dollar Fabergé egg.
“What type of business are you interested in starting?” I asked.
I probably should’ve confirmed before I accepted the job, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I’d had other priorities in Turks and Caicos. Namely, food, writing, and copious amounts of sex.
“You’ll see,” Alessandra said with a mysterious smile. She was possibly the prettiest person I’d ever met, but an air of melancholy tempered her beauty.
“It’s not meth, is it?” My New Year’s Breaking Bad marathon with Kai flashed through my head.
Her laugh chimed like silver bells in the wind. “Sadly, chemistry has never been my strong suit.” She opened the door at the end of the hall. “No, it’s something a little more, um, creative.”
The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside was the smell. Lush and fragrant, it instantly transported me back to the climes of the Caribbean. The second was the array of colorful bouquets lining the table and windowsill. Finally, my eyes were drawn to the far wall, where a gallery of pressed flowers hung in elegant wooden frames.
“Oh, wow,” I breathed. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I hadn’t expected this.
“It’s a silly hobby,” Alessandra said, her cheeks reddening. “I’m not curing cancer or anything, but it’s fun, and it helps me pass the time while my husband is working.”
“It’s not silly. These are gorgeous.” I brushed my fingers over the glass frame protecting a huge pressed herbarium on black paper. “How long did it take you to make this?”
“About a month if you include the drying time. That one is one of my favorites. They’re all night-blooming flowers, hence the black background.” Alessandra drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I sometimes gift these to friends. People seem to like them, so I thought, why not open an online shop? A small one.”
“That’s an amazing idea.”
She didn’t need the money, but she was clearly passionate about the art. I counted at least a dozen pressed flower artworks in the room. She must’ve been doing this for at least a year.
Her face relaxed. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so. It’s much better than meth, no?”
I laughed. She was right. We were going to work well together.
Since it was my first day, we spent the next two hours ironing out my schedule, logistics, and expectations. Neither of us really knew what we were doing, but we had fun figuring it out together.
We agreed to a tentative list of tasks, to be amended if and when necessary. I would assist with research, marketing, and administrative tasks, including brainstorming business names. Alessandra wanted to keep things low-key to start, but once we got our bearings and ironed out the logistics, she’d hire more people. Until then, it was a two-person show.
I didn’t have set hours. As long as I met my deadlines, I could work whenever and wherever I wanted.
“That being said, you’re welcome to work here if you’d like.” Alessandra gestured around the apartment. We were back in the living room, which was so massive it could easily host a Super Bowl game. “Don’t feel obligated, but if you get tired of being alone, my door’s always open.”
“I might take you up on that offer. I hate working alone.” I hesitated, debating whether to ask my next question. “Are you sure Dominic won’t mind?”
She gave me a sad smile. “He won’t even notice.”
Their marriage was none of my business, but I couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy. Money can’t buy happiness. It was cliché, but it was true.
My eyes landed on the wedding photo propped up on the mantel. “That’s a beautiful shot of you two.”
Their physical features hadn’t changed much over the years—Alessandra possessed the same flawless skin and stunning bone sculpture, Dominic the same golden hair and chiseled jaw—yet I hardly recognized the people in the photo. In it, Alessandra’s face glowed with joy, and her new husband gazed down at her with obvious adoration. They looked young and happy and so incredibly in love.
It was difficult to reconcile them with the cold Wall Street titan dominating the business papers and the quiet, melancholic woman before me.
“Thank you.” Alessandra’s smile took on a strained quality. She didn’t look at the mantel. “Speaking of photos, we should create social media accounts, right? I’m not great at photography, but I can hire a professional…”
I went along with her obvious deflection. It was her marriage. If she didn’t want to talk about it, I wasn’t going to push her.
When I left her house another two hours later, it was late afternoon and I was riding high from our meeting. I had a shit ton of work to do on top of finishing my manuscript, but after getting fired, it was nice to feel useful again.
The ping of a news alert punctured my high as I entered the nearest subway station. I’d set up news alerts for my name against Sloane’s advice. I couldn’t help it; I needed to know what people were saying.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I expected more tabloid rumors about me and Kai, maybe even someone who’d caught us together in Turks and Caicos. His staff had been the only other people on the island, but one never knew. Sleazy outlets like the National Star had eyes and ears everywhere.
But the most recent wave of headlines had nothing to do with our impromptu getaway and everything to do with me. Specifically, my family and my background.
Bile coated my throat.
Oh, fuck.
