Jacqueline “J acque?” Miranda asked, her voice filtering into my thoughts. “What are you doing here?” I glanced up to find her leaning against my office door with her arms crossed and one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched as she looked at me with questions in her eyes. “I work here,” I said. “Jeez, I didn’t know you guys had such short memories. I was only gone for a few days.” Her lips curved into a smile and she shook her head as she pushed off the doorframe. “Oh, I remember you, alright. I also remember that you’re supposed to be on paid time off.” “I was,” I corrected lightly. “Past tense. I’m back now.” “I can see that.” She took a st ep into the office and closed my door behind her with a soft click. “Do you want to talk about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, but the look she gave me in return told me that she knew I was full of it. She crossed toward my desk, gracefully lowering herself down in the chair across from me and folding her hands on her lap. Then she just sat there, looking like she was waiting patiently for something to happen. I frowned. “What?” “Start talking,” she said calmly, as if she was my therapist and it was a foregone conclusion that we would be having this conversation. “What’s going on, Jacqueline? Youe were scheduled for at least a couple more days off.” I looked back at her, picking through my thoughts and feelings for a beat before I realized that if I truly did want to start making friends here, then at some point, I had to let someone in. While it hadn’t gone very well to have let that someone be Jesse initially, I couldn’t let him stop me from seeking true connection. All my so-called friends in London were gone and I was starting from scratch, which meant I probably had to suck up my pride and take her up on the offer to talk. I simply wasn’t sure where to begin. “When your father first offered me this job, I was engaged to a man named Thomas,” I said finally. “He’s an archaeologist.” To her credit, Miranda didn’t react dramatically to that bit of news. She just nodded slowly and then let out a quiet, “Okay.”
“He was very much opposed to moving here,” I explained. “Positions aren’t easy to come by in his profession and he always said that if he did move again, it would be back home to France.” “So that’s why you didn’t give us an immediate answer,” she concluded with a soft, sympathetic smile on her lips. “Yet here you are, so what happened?” “I got home after a wedding and he was gone,” I said. “After almost a decade together, he disappeared without even telling me in person that it was over. He left a note, took my dog, and that was it.” Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. He stole your dog?” “Yes, he did,” I said, happy that she, too, was more upset about that than anything else. “I bought and paid for Hubert, raised him, trained him, and bought him ridiculous little toys he never played with, but Thomas took him anyway.” Miranda scoffed. “Well, it’s official. I hate him. That’s potentially one of the most awful things I’ve ever heard.” “Thank you,” I r eplied, de eply satisfied with her reaction. Talking to her had definitely been the right decision, even if that had been the easier part. “Stealing a dog simply to be spiteful genuinely feels like the kind of detail that should be included in a criminal profile, don’t you think?” “It really does.” She let out a soft laugh, tilting her head at me as it subsided. “How are you actually doing with it all?” “I’m mostly fine,” I said, wincing a little. “I mean, that’s odd, isn’t it? I know I should be more upset, but I’m really just annoyed that he took Hubert. Things weren’t working out between us. I won’t deny that, but why steal the dog when you know how much someone else loves him, while you don’t really care much at all? If I’d done something wrong, then I suppose it might’ve made sense, but I didn’t. Things just fizzled out between us. There was no reason to be cruel.” Miranda shook her head. “I don’t think it’s odd to be focused on that or not to be totally devastated about the breakup. You’re a practical person and you obviously feel passionate about justice. The fact that he took your dog is unjust, and therefore, you need to make that right before you’ll be able to process everything else.” “Excellent,” I said. “So we’re in agreement that I’m emotionally stunted.” “I prefer logical and compartmentalized,” she teased gently. “Seriously, though. If things had been fizzling out for a long time, it’s not such a big surprise that you’re not that upset. It might even just feel more like a relief.”
I felt a surprised smile form on my lips. “How did you know that?” “I might have a bit of experience with relationships not working out. It doesn’t always have to end with a bang, sister. Sometimes, it’s over with a whisper and that’s okay too.” She shrugged, returning my smile as she finally leaned back in the chair and slid her elbows casually to the armrests. “So, is it true that you’re dating Jesse Westwood now?” Oh. Oh no. I blinked at her rapidly, knowing that there were several ways this could go and at least half of them ended with me unemployed. “Am I about to get in trouble?” I asked cautiously. Miranda’s eyebrows pulled together. “For dating someone?” “For dating a Westwood,” I clarified, lowering my voice like they— whoever that was—might somehow hear me through the walls. She stared at me for a second, then burst out laughing. “No. You’re not in trouble. Why would you be?” I shrugged but blew out a breath of relief when some of the tension eased de ep inside my being. “They’re clients. I just thought that maybe you’d be uncomfortable with it, or worse, that there’d be a rule against it.” “Nah.” She waved me off, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “We don’t handle any of Jesse’s personal affairs and we’ll make sure to ke ep you off of any W&S matters where he might be in volved. He’s operations, right?” I nodded. “Yes, I believe so.” “Well, then. It shouldn’t be a problem. His brother, Will, held that position for years and we very rarely had anything to do with him professionally. It’s mostly Alex and Nate, the CEO and CFO, that we deal with. You still haven’t answered my question, though. Are you dating him, and should I be impressed or concerned?” “Why would you be concerned?” “Because anyone with an internet connection knows you were in Hawaii with him, looking pretty cozy on the beach, I might add. Now suddenly, you’re back early and not looking particularly happy about it. Plus, Jesse Westwood has a bit of a r eputation.” “We’re not dating.” I shook my head. “It’s complicated.” She groaned. “It always is when those boys are in volved, but for what it’s worth, they’re good people. Don’t be fooled by the money and the fame, Jacque. I’ve spent a fair amount of time, with Alex in particular since he’s married to a friend, but I’ve met them all and their hearts have always seemed to be in the right place.” I almost scoffed. “Really?” She nodded, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. “They have a r eputation, obviously, but they take care of their own. They’re loyal. Strategic.
A little intense, sure, but they’re not what people make them out to be.” Well, that doesn’t match my personal views of them at all. Exc ept the taking care of their own bit. All my life, I’d been told they were basically the devil, but now here she was, talking about them like they were saints instead. “That’s funny,” I said. “From what I’ve heard, they’re power-hungry, ruthless, and entitled.” Miranda’s lips twitched. “Every powerful family gets that label at some point.” “Yes, but in their case, I’ve experienced it.” She tilted her head. “With your mom?” I nodded. She considered it for a moment before she shrugged lightly. “Obviously, I’ve never met the Westwoods that you’re part of, on the other side of the pond, but around here, they’re really not that bad.” “Perhaps.” She grinned. “Besides, family dynamics are never objective, but that’s especially true when distance and time are in volved.” I leaned back again, thinking about how different a picture she was painting from what I’d been raised to believe. And if they weren’t the villains I’d always imagined, then what, exactly, had I been holding on to all this time? Dropping my gaze to my desk, I picked up a pen and started tapping it absently against the surface. “I think I might’ve fumbled the ball.” She didn’t miss a beat. “With Jesse?” “Yes.” Slowly standing up after checking her watch, she smoothed her blazer and smiled at me. “Well, luckily, you’re a lawyer, which means that you’re very good at fixing complicated situations. I have a meeting to get to, but try not to sweat it too much, okay? Whatever happened, I’m sure that if you decide to, you’ll be able to make it right.” Leaving me alone with the very uncomfortable realization that she might be right, I exhaled a long breath and tried to get back to work. All day long, however, I k ept mulling over everything she’d said, knowing that my personal experience with the Chicago Westwoods, at least, lined up perfectly with her opinion of them. Even Will and Eliza had been kind and welcoming back at the estate that day. When I’d briefly met Alex at the investor dinner, he’d seemed more suspicious of Jesse than judgy about me, and Jesse himself? Well, he was something else entirely. The rest of the week dragged painfully slowly, like time itself had decided to make me suffer a little bit. I checked my phone enough times to consider treatment for addiction, and
when I still hadn’t heard from him by the weekend, I had to admit that I was hurt. Which was ridiculous, because obviously I didn’t need to hear from Jesse Westwood. I was a grown woman with a de eply rooted sense of ind ependence and plenty to ke ep herself busy without him. But still, I thought I would’ve heard from him by now. Tossing my phone down on the desk, I leaned back in my chair and sent a glare at the ceiling. “I’m such an idiot.” “Are you talking to yourself again?” I looked up to find Miranda standing in my doorway, watching me with thinly veiled amusement in her eyes. She’d been checking in on me every so often these last few days, but she hadn’t pressed me for more information. I genuinely appreciated her quiet support and unspoken understanding that some things were just too embarrassing—and difficult— to talk about. “I was simply commenting on some of my less desirable characteristics,” I said honestly, smiling as I waved her in. “What’s up, boss?” “I’m hosting a table tonight at a fundraising event,” she said, coming over to stand in front of my desk, but not sitting down. “Some of the girls from the office are going. You should come too.” “Thanks. I might just do that. I haven’t had a reason to get dressed up for much too long.” Her smile widened. “In that case, I’d say you owe it to yourself to go out and get pampered this afternoon. Hair. Nails. Just make sure to buy a dress says, I’m successful, but also fun.” I laughed. “Successful but fun, huh? That could be interesting to shop for.” She winked at me. “Seven o’clock. I’ll send you a pin location for your Uber driver. Don’t be late.” “I’ll do my best, but finding a dress that says what you want it to say might take several weeks.” She backed toward my door and pointed at the watch on her wrist. “You’ve got six hours. Make them count. Tick, tock.” I chuckled as she left, but decided to take her advice and packed up not long after. Since I didn’t have a preferred hair salon or nail technician in this city yet, I did a spot of Googling and found a salon that provided both within walking distance of my apartment.
After booking an appointment, I headed to cute boutique in my neighborhood that I’d walked past a few times. The sales assistant was incredibly helpful, pointing me toward a de ep red dress with sleek lines, a plunging neck and back, and a hem that skimmed my ankles when I walked. I bought it without a second thought, making it to my appointment with time to spare. Both the hairstylist and nail technician were wonderful, and I immediately added their contact details to my phone, surprised that it had been so easy to find people that I genuinely liked. The next st ep was heading back to my apartment to change and get ready. I k ept my makeup generally light but added a touch of dramatic flair to my eyes just to make them pop. Then I smiled at myself in mirror, ready for my first big event with people from the firm. The fundraiser was being held at a museum downtown. The exterior of the building was all lit up and a snaking line of fancy cars d eposited their occupants on an honest-to-God red carpet outside. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, but I climbed out of the car with my head held high, not pausing for the small contingent of press standing beyond velvet ropes. They weren’t here for me anyway. One or two seemed to know my name, but I ignored them when they called out to me, heading inside without further ado. If Jesse had been with me, stopping might’ve been worth it, but as it was, talking to them without him only seemed like providing further cause for speculation. And if I said one wrong thing, it would be a disaster. Miranda and the girls were by a cocktail table in the grand entrance hall, smiling when I joined them. “There you are,” Miranda said, looking me over like she was critically assessing whether my dress had fulfilled her brief. She grinned. “It’s perfect. You look gorgeous.” “So do you,” I said, meaning it and acc epting a cocktail one of the associates handed me. “Thanks, Darla.” “No problem,” she said easily. “It looks like you need it. Seriously, girl. Relax. You look like you’re about to cross-examine someone.” “I might,” I r eplied. “It’s how I cope.” She laughed and I pumped my eyebrows at her but then st epped away from the table with my cocktail in hand. “I’m just going to take a look around. I’ll catch up soon.”
“Sure,” Miranda said. “If we’ve already headed in, we’re table number twelve.” “I’ll see you there.” I turned and drifted toward the nearest display, an assortment of traditional African masks that I studied for a beat before letting my gaze drift across the room. This sort of environment was so familiar after the amount of times I’d attended similar functions with Thomas. Yet back in England, I’d known all the regulars attending. Here, there were no familiar faces. Exc ept, that wasn’t true. A moment later, Jesse came striding across the hall from the direction of the bar. My heart skipped, then tripped over itself, and then started pounding. I hadn’t expected to see him here, but it didn’t come as much of a surprise that he was, in fact, in attendance. The way I’d heard it, the Westwoods had their fingers in almost every pie around. Still, I was entirely unpr epared to see him again after a week of radio silence—and a kiss I absolutely shouldn’t still have been obsessing about. Across the room, he seemed taller tonight, his broad shoulders square and open beneath a perfectly tailored suit. It looked like he’d made a vague attempt to tame that dark brown hair but had given up halfway through when it’d refused to comply. Unable to wrench my gaze away from him, I suddenly felt a little dizzy, which was absurd. There was no reason for the room to feel like it had tilted slightly, but then, when Jesse looked up like he’d felt me watching him, the entire world seemed to fade around the edges. His gaze locked onto mine, those blue eyes so incredibly piercing even across the distance that I couldn’t look away. For just a second, something electric passed between us, but then he started moving, walking toward me with deliberate strides and determination blazing in his gaze. My heart kicked up, traitorous and loud in my chest as I stood there, rooted to the spot like an absolute fool. Okay. Just be normal. I had no idea what that meant anymore, but I was going to do my best to act like it anyway. I absolutely would not freak out. “Jaqueline.” I turned abruptly at the sound of my name, a cool shiver skating down my spine at the unwelcome familiarity of that voice. No. No, it can’t be. Standing right in front of me, in Chicago instead of France, was Thomas —and for some reason, he looked genuinely happy to see me.