Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Jack

I leaned back in my chair, one eye on the architectural sketches sprawled across my desk. Today’s client was a retired contractor planning to open a high-end doggy daycare. He was eccentric, rich, and dead-set on some kind of hybrid Mediterranean–industrial aesthetic, but as I flipped through his email chain, I struggled to keep my attention on it. Since I started at the firm, I felt like I was stuck handling these small-scale projects—stuff no one else really wanted.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. I knew I had more to offer than what they were giving me. More skill, more vision. Instead, I was grinding through low-stakes clients, struggling to see the payoff. It didn’t help that half my coworkers seemed to coast by on charm and seniority. I wanted the bigger clients. The ones that would let me actually make something I could be proud of.

The shrill ring of my desk phone snapped me back to reality. I glanced at the caller ID: Andrea Vaughan. Fuck. Just what I needed, a chat with my boss. I picked up, trying to sound neutral. “Jack Barrett.”

“Come to my office.” Andrea’s voice was clipped, all business. She was one of those people who communicated an entire order without the fluff.

“Sure, Andrea.” I tried to keep the reluctance out of my tone as I hung up. With a sigh, I pushed my chair back, grabbed my notepad just in case, and headed down the hall. When I arrived, her secretary told me I could enter.

Andrea Vaughan’s office was spacious, spare, and intimidating, just like her. I gave a polite knock on the doorframe, and she looked up, gesturing me in with a slight lift of her chin.

“Jack, take a seat,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. I sat down, waiting. Andrea was somebody who didn’t waste time with pleasantries, so I braced myself for whatever she was about to throw my way.

“First off, I wanted to say, good work on the file reviews. You were thorough, and I appreciated your recommendations.” Her gaze was direct, and though her voice was even, there was a note of genuine approval there.

“Thank you,” I replied, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. I hadn’t expected her to notice my efforts, much less mention them.

Her expression remained cool as she continued. “Your coworker…well, we’ve let her go. She wasn’t meeting the client’s expectations, and frankly, we need someone who can handle a higher caliber of work. I think you can do right by this client, and I’m ready to take a chance on you.”

For a moment, I didn’t respond, too taken aback to even form a coherent thought. A chance on me? My fingers tightened around my notepad, a strange, bright energy humming in my veins. “I…well, I appreciate that, Andrea. Who’s the client?”

“AVA Luxury. They’re a chain of high-end med-spas focused on wellness and cosmetic procedures.” She leaned back slightly in her leather chair. “You’ll be working directly with their CEO, Evelyn Van Alen. She’s selective, demanding, and expects perfection from her partners.”

The AVA Luxury account. My pulse jumped at the prospect. This was no doggy daycare or niche startup—this was the kind of client I’d been hoping for since I started. I’d heard the name Evelyn Van Alen in passing, mainly complaints from people around the office about her reputation, but I didn’t care. Finally, something substantial.

I cleared my throat, trying to rein in my excitement. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I won’t let you down.” I forced myself to keep my voice steady, but inside, I was grinning like an idiot.

Andrea nodded. “Glad to hear it. I’ll be transferring your current clients to other associates. For the time being, AVA Luxury Ltd. will be your only focus. Make Evelyn happy, and it’ll open up more opportunities for you here.”

“Understood.” I managed a professional smile, but inwardly I was practically vibrating. Finally, a chance to make an impression—and maybe a little extra money, if I played my cards right.

Just then, Andrea’s secretary buzzed in, her voice crackling through the speaker. “Ms. Vaughan, Evelyn Van Alen is here for her appointment.”

Andrea nodded to the door, giving me a quick look that was both commanding and…was that sympathy? “Jack, be a dear and open the door for Ms. Van Alen.”

I stood, straightened my tie, and opened the door just in time for Evelyn Van Alen to sweep past me like a storm cloud wrapped in silk. She didn’t even look at me, muttering to herself as she crossed the room, her heels clicking in a rapid, angry rhythm on the floor.

“I swear, if one more person emails me with attachments,” she hissed, almost to herself, “I’m going to lose my mind. PDFs? Honestly, it’s 2024—don’t people know how to use cloud links? Ugh.” She plopped into a chair, crossed her legs with a grand sweep, and glanced at Andrea, rolling her eyes. “And don’t get me started on the idiotic concierge service at my building. I ask them to make one call—a simple request for a specific bottle of prosecco—and they bring me champagne. Can you even imagine?”

I stared at her, wondering if she was serious. Her outfit looked like it could cover my rent for a month—pristine white cashmere sweater, an enormous statement necklace, and sleek cream pants that looked like they’d never seen the inside of a washing machine, let alone a subway seat. She smelled like some kind of weaponized gardenia, a scent that lingered with a vengeance.

“Jack, sit,” Andrea ordered briskly, snapping me back to attention. I moved to the chair next to Evelyn, who acknowledged me with a passing, dismissive glance as Andrea introduced me.

“This is Jack Barrett,” Andrea said smoothly. “Jack was the one who noticed the irregularities in your files, Evelyn. It’s thanks to him we, ah, corrected the course by terminating Sarah Morrison.”

My stomach twisted. The last thing I’d wanted was to get someone fired, even if Sarah hadn’t exactly been a model coworker. But Evelyn’s eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands, her smile tight and gleeful.

“Thank God that incompetent ass is gone! She couldn’t find her way around a project folder if her life depended on it. I swear, some of the people they let in this industry—I mean, can they even spell the word ‘luxury’?” She leaned back, her fingers grazing the massive necklace around her neck, adjusting it like a royal would a crown. “Honestly, I have half a mind to start my own agency just to weed out the riffraff.”

I forced a polite smile, sneaking a glance at Andrea, who looked unflinching, her expression almost amused.

Evelyn let out a frustrated sigh. “And the timelines! I don’t know what they were doing with my projects before, but I’m not having another opening delayed by a single day. My clients don’t wait—I don’t wait. And if I see one more so-called ‘mockup’ in gray scale, I will throw it out the window.” She paused, her eyes flicking to me, as if finally seeing me for the first time. Her lips curled in what she probably thought was a compliment.

“Well,” she said, looking me up and down with a smirk, “at least you’re a step up in the looks department. That last girl couldn’t dress herself out of a clearance rack.” She chuckled, as if she’d just said something witty.

I stifled a grimace. This woman was a piece of work. How was I supposed to work with her without losing my sanity?

Andrea cleared her throat, interjecting before Evelyn could dig herself any deeper. “We’re all committed to ensuring your project goes off without a hitch, Evelyn. Jack is fully committed to your projects.”

Evelyn flashed me a sugary smile, her voice suddenly syrupy. “Oh, yes. I expect all of your attention, Jack. None of these silly little side clients. I want to know that your focus is entirely on me and my work. We’re building a new med-spa in the Hamptons, and another in St. Kitts. I expect both to be completed under budget and on schedule. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I stammered, fumbling over my words as I forced enthusiasm into my voice. “Of course. Absolutely, I’ll make sure everything is—um—exactly how you want it. I’m looking forward to—well, yes, I mean, I’m grateful for the opportunity and, uh, I’ll get started on—”

“Wonderful,” Evelyn interrupted, flicking her hand dismissively. “Andrea and I went to Vassar together, and we’re overdue for a catch-up.” She glanced at her watch. “We need to leave now if we’re going to make our lunch reservation at Eleven Madison Park.”

Andrea nodded at me curtly, and I took that as my cue to stand, gather my notes, and retreat. I shot a polite nod to both of them, then headed for the door.

After work, I made a beeline for the subway, practically sprinting down the steps to catch the next train home. My mind was a mess, replaying every line of Evelyn’s latest “requests.” She was going to make my life a living hell; that much was clear. But if I could just play her game—flatter her, agree with her, anticipate her whims—maybe this could lead to something bigger. If she sang my praises to Andrea, I’d be set.

I reached the platform and looked around for Liam. He was usually here before me, waiting near our usual spot. I pulled out my phone to text him, but when I looked up, I spotted him—across the tracks, where the train from Long Island City was just arriving.

“What the hell?” I waved, but Liam turned, racing toward the exit stairs. I was about to call out when my train arrived, the doors hissing open. Just as I settled into a seat, I saw Liam hurrying down the platform, dodging the last few people as he slipped onto the train. He plopped down next to me, looking a bit flushed.

I wanted to ask Liam where he was coming from, but after the day I’d had, I said nothing.

Liam leaned back and gave me a sympathetic look. “So…how was work?”

“Day from hell,” I muttered, glancing out the window as the train lurched forward.

The four-minute ride felt both endless and too short.

When we finally reached our stop, we got off and walked home in silence. The moment we entered our building, Nessa swooped in like she’d been waiting for us, her red lipstick brighter than usual, clutching her phone like a prize.

“Liam! Is this you on Instagram? I know it’s not your name, but he looks just like you.” She shoved the phone under Liam’s nose.

I didn’t see the screen, but Liam went pink instantly, his usual calm crumbling. “Uh, no, that’s…someone else.”

He grabbed my arm, tugging me toward the elevator before Nessa could get another word out. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, I turned to him. “What was that about?”

He stared at the floor, scuffing his shoe against the metal. “Nothing. She just, uh…must’ve mistaken me for someone else. You know Nessa. Flighty.”

“Right.” I shrugged, too tired to question it. The elevator dinged, and we trudged to our apartment. As soon as I unlocked the door, Liam went straight for the kitchen. I made for my room, shutting the door behind me and flopping onto the bed. I closed my eyes, savoring the quiet for a moment, letting the day melt away.

Then I caught a whiff of something—not just sweat, something funkier. I opened my eyes and noticed a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. Right, dirty gym clothes. I sighed, peeling myself off the bed, and tossed on a pair of sweats before hauling my clothes to the end of the hall where the washer and dryer were tucked away.

I opened the washer, ready to throw my stuff in, but it was already full. Dirty laundry—Liam’s. I huffed, half-annoyed, wondering if he’d forgotten to turn it on. I reached in to pull out a few things, and my hand hit something that definitely wasn’t Liam’s usual boxer briefs. Black mesh underwear. Sexy. I pulled them out, staring at them for a second longer than I should’ve, imagining for a split second what they’d look like on him.

My face warmed. I stuffed them back in the washer and reached deeper, only to feel a weird, slick texture. Oil. The entire load felt greasy, like something had spilled.

“Liam?” I called out, not sure what to make of it.

Footsteps came down the hall, and Liam appeared with a beer, stopping a few feet away when he saw me holding up the black mesh underwear. His eyes went wide, and his cheeks went pink again.

“What’s up with the…uh, sexy underwear and the greasy sheets?”