I’m sitting across from Jake in Eleven Madison Park, a bustling popular restaurant, his current favorite place to eat and watching him mess with his cell while we wait on our food.
“Jake?” I interrupt gently.
“Emma?” He responds without looking up. He’s deliberately being evasive.
“The Hunter merger?” My curiosity has been niggling all the way here and I have been extremely patient. He sighs and looks down at his cell, puts it inside his jacket, bringing his steady green gaze back to me. His face unreadable.
“My father and Hunter are not what you would call the best of friends anymore,” he mumbles quietly. Sighing that he can’t avoid this any longer.
“Anymore?” I repeat flatly.
“Yes, Emma, anymore. They used to be as close as Daniel and I.” He leans back, sliding down into his chair a little and slides his feet to cage mine under the table on either side. Our upper ankles connecting slightly. Jake is a toucher; he always has to have some sort of contact it seems. It no longer bothers me given it was such a slow thing that I just got used to.
“What happened?” I watch his face carefully, he’s good at giving nothing away, amazing poker face.
“My father had an affair with Elsa Hunter.” Daniel’s mother, and Hunter’s wife.
Crap.
I wasn’t expecting that.
Is that the basis of his bond with Daniel, shared anger at their parents?
“It’s not exactly common knowledge.” He sighs and moves his water glass; he needs a point of focus. I can tell this is something he hates talking about. Jake only fidgets when he’s very uncomfortable and it’s his biggest tell, watching items he moves around, as though for distraction.
“When?” I know I shouldn’t pry, but Jake rarely denies me knowledge, on any subject. Weirdly.
“When I was in my early twenties … My mother forgave him, but I didn’t, not for a long time … I’m not sure I’ve forgiven him, even now. He broke her heart.” Jake’s relationship with his mother is unparalleled. I can see why he harbors so much anger toward his father and I also see why Jake’s a little apprehensive when it comes to real relationships.
“Is that why you pushed for this? … To get at him?” I nudge his ankle gently with mine, so he’ll look at me.
“Yes … No … We stand to do well with this, but I guess it’s always been a factor.” He shrugs and avoids my gaze, signaling that the money hasn’t been the main reason. Jake’s also a “shrugger”; it has to be his most common mannerism, annoyingly so. It does, however, emphasize his shoulders and the sheer solid mass of them.
“How did you find out?” I try tearing my gaze from his upper body. Still appreciative that he looks good in everything he wears.
“Carl Hunter caught them in bed together, in his own house.” He’s still focusing on his glass and turning it absent-mindedly. Clearly not happy.
“So, that’s why there’s a weird atmosphere when he’s around?” I watch his every movement, a little empathetic to how young he looks when he does this.
Makes so much more sense now.
“I don’t think I can ever forgive him for hurting my mom like that. She deserves better than him.” I know Jake’s close to his mother, he visits her often and he has me send her flowers every month. A dozen colorful Gerberas … her favorites.
A thoughtful son.
“She stayed with him though? She could have left him if she wanted too.” I point out, a little enamored with how deeply he feels for his mother’s heart ache.
Sensitive and loyal. Who would have guessed it?
“You try leaving a publicly famous billionaire when he’s been caught with his finger in someone else’s pie, Bambino … She knew he would have caused chaos for her if she tried. It’s one of the reasons I feel like I do about him. He’s a fucking control freak and all about his reputation.” The flash of anger surprises me. Jake isn’t one to lose his cool so easily, or publicly. He shifts in his chair, taking a deep breath and quells his outburst a little; his eyes are still stormy, but his awareness of the surroundings causes it to burn out quickly.
“He forced her to stay?” I understand why he feels that way.
Jesus, you’re being so obvious, it’s actually pathetic woman!
I frown across at him, a visual telling off. He likes to invoke the reaction for his own amusement, the eternal playboy with the childish temperament. He likes the effect he has on women of all ages.
“She may have trouble finishing her shift now,” I scold after she wanders away.
“Jealous?” He winks at me, but I just glare at him coldly.
No. Maybe?
“Your un-flailing libido never fails to impress me,” I retort sarcastically. Ignoring how often it does annoy me.
“Least I have a sex life.” He takes a mouthful of food, giving me that teasing eyebrow lift of his.
“Meaning?” I pick up my fork and clean it on my napkin before I start with the salad, still watching him with a very serious expression.
“Meaning, I’ve spent many intimate hours with you and am yet to see any form of date or fuck buddy keeping you cheerful.” He raises his eyebrows then digs into his food again. No shame in what he just said, and I swallow hard.
“I’ve more important things to do and no desire to date or find a “fuck buddy”.” I grimace at his term, throwing him a furrowed brow, completely unamused.
“Might put a smile on your face.” He’s grinning. I lift my chin towards him and throw on a mock smile, as widely as I can muster. Forced of course.
“There. See. No man needed,” I point out as he laughs and shakes his head at me in amusement.
“How come you never seem to date anyone? I mean you’re not exactly unattractive, you could easily pull … I’ve seen the way men check you out. Are you holding out for me to hang up my playboy hat and settle down?” He chuckles. The thought makes me feel odd inside, but I remain impassive.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO)