Chapter 5

Clara

Can you be a sex addict after one night? If not, I might prove to be the exception to that rule.

I floated home on a cloud of stretched muscles and post-orgasm bliss and a smile that could be seen from space. Jack had kept me up all night, and then, proved he had even more staying power than I’d thought possible, in the shower this morning.

He’d had to go into the office, and I had to get home. The memory of his kiss in his car at the door was permanently etched into my memory. What man drove a one-night stand home in New York traffic on a Wednesday morning? Jack Dawson, that’s who.

But nothing about Jack had implied that he thought of me as a one-night thing. The thought simultaneously thrilled me and worried me. To be wanted by Jack Dawson as something more than a pleasant diversion was a heady thing, considering he had already taken residence inside my heart, but – and it was a big but… we could never work.

Just like fate had decided to reinforce that point, and smack the innocent happiness from me, my door opened as I approached it.

My mother stood on the threshold, her thin face was even more pinched than normal, her mouth a tight, white angry line.

“And where may I ask, have you been?” she snapped at me, as my happy gait faltered. My mouth went immediately dry, and my heart hammered suddenly. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides and reminded myself to breathe.

“Hello, mother, what brings you here so early?” I asked as I went inside.

“Early? We arrived last night, to find you out. You didn’t answer my calls, as usual, therefore I’ve been worried sick all evening that you had been robbed and murdered,” she bit out. I looked at my mother, in her matching cashmere twin set, and pearls. I wondered if the look in her eyes was actual fear over her only daughter’s safety, or something else.

“And worse, I had to sit here and worry that you’d actually gone through with that degrading and scandalous proposition from that upstart mechanic, and embarrassed yourself and your family,” Emily finished. Right, something else then. Silly me.

“That would be worse than being robbed or murdered?” I said quietly.

“Don’t start with the morally outraged act with me, Clara. Were you with that man?” Emily said, crossing the hall to me as quick as a viper, poised to attack. Indignation rose in me. A strength and courage born of spending last night with Jack Dawson, the most fearless man I’d ever met, filled me.

“Yes, I was with that man, who has a name, by the way. It’s Jack, and I stayed at his house last night,” I bit out. I never saw my mother’s hand moving. All I felt was the sting, and wash of heat filling my cheek.

“Slut,” my mother hissed at me, her eyes filling with tears, as she turned away and clutched her chest as though she was the one who was hurt. My father was standing in the doorway. He avoided my eyes, as my mother paced back and forth, wringing her hands.

“What were you thinking?” My mother eventually said, her shoulders slumping. I let out a raw laugh.

“What was I thinking? Maybe that I could make a decision for myself for once. Maybe that I could choose who to date, or like for myself.”

“That man-“

“Jack”

“That man doesn’t care about you Clara, don’t you realize? That ridiculous stunt was a PR trick, nothing more.”

“A PR stunt made my model not show at the event and forced me to take her place? Don’t be ridiculous,” I said quietly. Anger sprang back into Emily’s eyes.

“I am being ridiculous? Clara, you have allowed that man to embarrass and ridicule you and all of us, and you’re so stupid you really have no concept of it,” Emily snapped.

“Why would he want to ridicule us?” I asked. My father cleared his throat and finally met my eyes.

“Jack Dawson is in the middle of a very aggressive take-over of Winter Tech and Security. So far, we are fighting off his advances, but he plays dirty. He’s just trying to rattle me, by getting to my daughter.” It was the most my father had said to me all at once in years. My mother was usually the mouthpiece of parental disappointment. I stared at him, feeling my brittle heart break into pieces in my chest.

“And you played right into his hands, and couldn’t keep your legs together,” Emily delivered with her customary cutthroat precision. A killing blow.

My mood was spiraling down a black hole of shame and self-doubt, just as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and opened the message. Seeing Jack’s name was like a kick to the stomach.

I can still taste you on my fingers, beautiful

I closed the phone with a heavy, embarrassed dread, witnessed in all its glory by mother. The triumphant look on her face made me feel sick.

* * *

Jack

After my third unanswered call to Clara, I started to get a bad feeling in my gut. This morning had been perfect, she’d kissed me with abandon in front of her house, and watched me pull away until I turned the corner. I’d felt like a rockstar at that moment, adored by the only fan I wanted. Clara Winter was everything I wanted in a wife, in the mother of my kids, and I had thought we were on the same page.

“Jack, are you listening?”

“Are you saying something worth listening to?” I tossed back at my CFO sitting across from me. The man sighed, and took a swig of coffee that he no doubt wished was something stronger.

“If you don’t think it’s interesting, I guess we”ll just go with the previous plan,” Adam said, standing and brushing his suit off, as though he was brushing my disinterest away. I liked Adam, he was a great CFO, and a very rich man himself. He kept me on top of my business, yet today, his words were like soup. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the irritation and worry about Clara not answering my calls.

“Sounds good,” I said, just as distracted, as I turned to the phone on my desk and beeped my secretary.

“Can you get me Elliot Winter on the line,” I asked her, settling back to look at central park, spread out below my office window, just like a movie. That’s what I had thought for about a year, once we moved into the building. All the things that had happened to me were so far removed from my wildest dreams, that it had taken a long time for me to get used to the fact of my new reality. I still suffered from it. Imposter syndrome. The belief that I don’t deserve to be where I am, or that by some fluke, I’ll lose everything, once everyone realizes there was a regular joe breaking into their billionaire party.

My line buzzed, and I connected. Clara quieted that voice inside me. When she looked at me, I felt like I belonged, like I was good enough. I needed that. I needed her.

“Winter,” was all the greeting Elliot Winter, Clara’s older brother gave me.

“Good morning, my name is Jack Dawson, and I wanted to ask you for some advice about something,” I said, with my usual confidence. Elliot Winter was no pushover, however, and I felt his skepticism over the phone.

“The same Jack Dawson who bid two million dollars on dinner with my little sister?” Elliot asked.

“I didn’t take you for a tabloid reader,”

“I wouldn’t call the New York Times a tabloid,” Elliot said. I snorted.

“Really? I would,” I said critically.

“Well, what have I done to merit a phone call from Jack Dawson, the billionaire who hates people?” Elliot asked me. I was going to sue whoever came up with that tagline.

“Your sister is a gifted jewelry designer, as I’m sure you know,”

“Of course,” Elliot’s immediate and unwavering affirmative raised his stock in my eyes.

“What would such an expert consider beautiful in something she hasn’t made herself?” I asked him. Silence stretched out a moment. I heard Elliot let out a long breath.

“I’m not going to ask why you want to know, as I’m sure you won’t tell me. For Clara to love something, it should be ethically sourced, responsible… rare, unique,”

“Are you describing Clara or the jewelry?” I asked, smiling at just the thought of giving Clara something she’d like.

“Look, Dawson, I don’t want to pry into my sister’s personal life, god knows she gets enough of that from my mother, but I do want to know if there’s something more than dinner going on between you?” Elliot asked.

“Yeah, there is,” I said, picking my phone up, and frowning at the fact that Clara had still to return a call or message. “I’m going to marry her.”