Chapter 13

JETT

I look over and see Aria’s eyes closed; her head is tilted to one side, and her mouth is slightly open. She’s fast asleep, and I’m not surprised. She never let up today, and I could tell she was exhausted during the workout.

I could also sense Jerome reaching out to her, seeing if she reciprocates his obvious interest in her. Even though she isn’t mine, it made my blood boil.

I hate that he easily makes her smile, and I hate that they have a familiarity that allows him to call her a nickname. I want her to be comfortable with me, even though I’ve done nothing but push her away.

And yet, here she is, asleep on my couch.

Pride swells in my chest, as if she chose to fall asleep here instead of collapsing from the sheer exhaustion I caused. I decide to give her until the end of the game, but she doesn’t move. In fact, her breathing deepens.

I get up and walk to her. I brush a wavy strand of hair off her face, and she doesn’t stir, so I bend down, slide my arms under her, and scoop her up. To my annoying delight, she rests her head on my chest, almost settling into my hold.

~Fuck. I like this way too much.~

Despite the desire to bring her to my room, I stop at my guest room. I lay her down on the bed, and she finally stirs upon leaving my arms.

“Oh, I, uh, should go,” she says in a stupor.

I put my hand on her shoulder and gently press. I can’t help but take advantage of any reason to touch her.

“No, you should stay. You can go home in the morning,” I say, waiting for her response to my strong suggestion.

She looks at me with those sleepy, gorgeous eyes, then nods and puts her head down.

“Good girl,” I say, and I’m not positive, but I think I see a small shiver travel down her body. I reluctantly cover her with the bedding and leave the room.

I can’t sleep. I replay all of my interactions with Aria in my head but mainly the last few minutes: tucking her hair back, holding her, pretending not to see the goosebumps when I praised her.

She likes to please, but does she especially like to please me? Or is she still doing damage control? And why do I care?

I should be angry after learning she isn’t who she says she is; she’s a manager at DYAD, not a PA. She’s in charge there. She’s in charge of every room she enters: the gala, the gym, the office…

She turns heads in each space, and yet she doesn’t seem to notice how much control she possesses. And all I desperately want to know is how badly she wants to give the control to someone else.

Because I’ll gladly take it.

It’s early the next morning when I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. I’m pulling a dark-blue suit with a light-gray shirt out of my closet when I hear a small knock on my door.

I smile to myself, knowing that Rhonda has three sharp knocks, so this timid announcement must be Aria.

“Come in,” I say.

Aria comes in, in her work clothes from the day before. They’re only slightly disheveled, and her hair is pinned up in a messy bun. Her eyes widen as they quickly travel down my damp body to the towel slung low on my hips.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry. I just…wanted you—wanted to ~tell~ you, rather, that I’m leaving and will see you at the office,” she says.

I can’t help the smirk that spreads on my face. Her eyes slide back up to mine, and her cheeks turn red. “Okay, so, bye.”

“Aria,” I say. She pauses and turns around, expecting instruction. “We’ll pick you up on the way to the office.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh no, it’s sort of out of the way, and I can—”

“Aria,” I say, and she stops stammering. “We’ll be there in an hour.”

“O-okay,” she says quietly, then slips out of my room.

I’m enjoying this way too much. In fact, I think Aria’s little pool party makes me feel entitled to test her. I knew I had a certain effect on her before, but now I have license to watch her squirm. I’d feel like a total asshole if I didn’t enjoy it so much.

I’ve always brought out strong feelings in everyone I meet. Usually they’re afraid of me, hate me, or respect me. Currently, I think Aria is between hate, fear, and lust. Lust is definitely there, which makes me feel, dare I say, exhilarated?

I speed up the rest of my morning, and David and I are on our way to Aria’s thirty minutes later. She knows I’m punctual, so I want to be early.

I step out in front of her small five-floor walk-up and approach the same door I saw her come out of wearing the gold dress.

On the pad next to the door, I see “A. James” next to the number 2C. Someone comes out just then and holds the door for me, so I slip in and climb the stairs.

A few doors down from the staircase is a blue door with a silver 2C emblazoned on it.

I knock and immediately hear someone shuffling around inside. Suddenly, Aria’s face appears behind a small gap in the doorway, held by a security chain.

“Jett, I am—I will be down in just a minute,” she says, clearly caught off guard.

“That’s okay. I’ll wait inside,” I say.

She regards me carefully and then looks behind her. When she looks back at me, I raise my eyebrow.

“Okay,” she says quickly, then closes the door and removes the chain.

The door swings open, and Aria steps to the side. She’s barefoot and wearing a charcoal-gray sleeveless dress. Her hair is in a tight, low ponytail.

I walk in and look around. Aria’s apartment is small but perfectly tidy, with simple, clean furnishings. She watches as I walk around, looking around her space, which is the size of my bedroom.

“I’ll be just a minute,” she says, and I watch her step in front of the bathroom mirror and put two sapphire studs in her ears and a silver chain around her neck. She grabs two blue pumps from the bedroom and sits on an ottoman in the living room to place them on her feet.

I quickly take in several photos: one features a laughing Aria with two familiar faces who crashed my apartment last weekend; another shows an older woman with a very similar bone structure and dark skin tone to Aria; a third is of Aria, smiling ear to ear in a graduation gown from NYU.

I realize right then that I’ve never seen her smile like that, and I suddenly want to. I want to be the one who makes her smile like that.

~What the fuck is wrong with me?~

“What are you doing?”

I turn and see Aria watching me carefully.

I smile. “Just getting to know my new, permanent assistant,” I say.

I see her body stiffen as she stands. “You want to…hire me?” she asks without a hint of happiness.

“Yes, I think so,” I say.

“Great,” she says, again with no excitement.

“Is it?” I ask as I step slightly closer to her.

Her eyes narrow at me. “It’s…slightly surprising,” she says curtly.

“You’re quite capable despite your”—I scan her face—“wild streak.”

She lets out an annoyed puff of air, then gives me a sneer. It makes me want to punish her for being bratty, but of course, I hold steady.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve tamed worse. That’s why you’re the ~boss~, right?” Her eyes gleam with mischief. She’s challenging me, and she knows it.

“If only,” I say slowly. Suddenly, I step toward the door. “Ready?”

She blinks a few times, then puts on her coat, grabs her bag, and we head out the door.

In the car, I think about her words. The emphasis on the word ~boss~. Her willingness to participate in a power struggle. I think she enjoys our back-and-forth as much as I do.

The question is how far she wants to take it.

***

The next few days are more of the same. I continue to think up time-consuming, difficult tasks, and Aria completes them without breaking a sweat, which is both annoying and impressive. I expected her to crack by now.

Occasionally, I see the frustration surface on her perfect face and know that I’ve gotten the best of her. When she hands me her report on local contractors, I quickly declare that I am going to use my friend’s recommendation and throw it into the recycling bin.

For a second, I think she is going to break, but she simply turns and leaves with little more than a goodbye.

On Wednesday, I approach her office with a list of tasks when I hear her on the phone and decide to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry about Friday, but I can do tomorrow evening. You sure? Great, I’ll be there around six-thirty, okay?”

A date?

I desperately want to know who she’s making plans with. It wouldn’t be Jerome, but I hope it’s not the guy I saw flirting with her on my security camera either.

“It’s okay. I just have to go to the symphony on Friday,” she says. “Yes, ~that~ symphony. Eh, I doubt he’ll notice me in the audience, but anyway, I’ll see you Thursday.”

Right, the ex-boyfriend. Even though I’m purposely testing her, I don’t want to put her in ~his~ crosshairs without me there. Perhaps I’ll have one of my mother’s local friends attend the symphony with her instead of Aria.

But first, I plan to ruin Aria’s little date night.

I stay at the office until seven o’clock the next night and check the PA phone location. I’m surprised to see Aria is way up in Hamilton Heights.

~What is she doing there?~ ~Is that where he lives?~

I decide to go see for myself. I grab a stack of contracts that have to be sent via certified delivery the next day and get in one of my cars.

I text Aria.

Jett

I have the contracts for the app developers, and I want them sent first thing in the morning. Can I drop them off to you now?

Aria

I’m not home right now. Can I pick them up later?

Jett

I’ll bring them to you. Address?

I can practically feel her hesitancy through the phone. Finally…

Aria

2638 W 145th, message me when you get here, and I’ll come outside.

I park the Ferrari a block away so she won’t hear the engine rev. I grab the contracts and walk down the street until I’m standing across from the address.

An old brownstone rises up from the quiet street. All the brownstones are old, but this one looks like it hasn’t been updated in decades.

It’s not dark yet, but the blinds on the bay window at the front of the building are open and the yellow light illuminates what looks like a very dated kitchen.

I see Aria appear, looking relaxed and happy with her wild curls loose around her face. She’s laughing and talking while moving around the space—opening the fridge, washing something in the sink. Her familiarity with the room is obvious, even from the street outside.

Suddenly, I see a small woman appear at Aria’s side and immediately recognize her from the photos in Aria’s apartment.

Suddenly, it hits me, and I feel like a total idiot. She’s not on a date at all; she’s with what looks like her grandma or maybe an aunt? I somewhat reluctantly climb the steps to the front door and knock.

“I’ll get it!” I hear Aria say.

The door flies open, and Aria appears with clenched teeth.

“I said I would meet you outside,” she says with quiet anger.

“Aria? What are you…?” A little older woman walks around the corner and pauses when she sees me. “Oh, hello. I didn’t know we had a guest.”

A sweet smile spreads across her face as she approaches me. “Nice to meet you, Mr.…,” she says, holding out her hand. I take it in both of mine and give her a warm smile.

“Hello, I’m Jett, Aria’s boss. And you are?”

“Louise, Aria’s grandma,” she says brightly. “Well, come in for some tea!”

“Oh, he can’t, Grandma. He was just leaving,” Aria says, placing a firm hand on my chest.

“Nonsense. He can come in for one cup of tea!” Louise grabs my arm and pulls me into the house. I hear Aria groan and then close the door.

I enter the warm kitchen that I was spying on from outside, but up close I can see the sweet charm that fills the small space: worn cookbooks on a crooked shelf, vintage wallpaper peeling at the corners, a spice shelf filled with mismatched jars.

Louise points me to a barstool and returns an old copper kettle to an even older coil burner before flipping it on.

“So, Mr. Jett, what do you do?” Louise asks nonchalantly.

I can’t help but smile at being in someone’s presence who clearly doesn’t know who I am. I glance at Aria and see her bite her lip to stop from smirking.

“I’m a boring businessman,” I say, waving my hand. “What I’d really like to learn more about is your granddaughter.”

Aria’s face drops, and she returns to scowling at me.

“Oh, well, I’m a little biased, but I truly think Aria is one of the brightest young women in New York. She had straight A’s all through school, including college,” Louise says, her face beaming with pride at her granddaughter.

“She came in first place in the science fair in third grade, and she never came in second again after that.”

“He doesn’t want to hear about my worm farm, Grandma,” she says, doing little to hide her annoyance.

“You were eight years old and beat kids four years older than you! It was a real jumping-off point,” she says, turning back to me. “After that, she joined the debate team—model UN, mock trial, you name it.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed she really takes initiative. And she’s so honest too,” I say pointedly, and Aria narrows her eyes at me. I bite back my laughter.

“Yes! Though I have to say, she works too much. She needs to have some fun once in a while,” she says as she adds a tea bag to a chipped mug. “I honestly don’t know how you two don’t throttle each other, spending that much time together.”

“Oh, Jett is ~very~ kind and attentive. He only gives me the ~important~ tasks at work,” Aria says sarcastically, but sweet Louise doesn’t seem to notice as she pours hot water into my mug and places it in front of me.

“Good bosses are hard to find, Aria. I hope you are appreciative,” Louise says.

I find this back and forth hilarious and blow on my tea to hide my amusement. As I look around the kitchen, I notice a photo of a younger Louise next to a heavyset man with light skin and a boyish face. A very small Aria is standing in front of them.

“Wow, how old is Aria there?” I ask, pointing at the photo.

Louise squints at the picture. “That’s Denise, my daughter and Aria’s mother,” she says. “Aria was her twin, so everyone thinks that is her.”

“Does she have the same fire that you and Aria possess?” I ask.

“She did. Unfortunately, she also had a lot of demons. We all do, certainly, but Denise couldn’t escape hers. We lost her when Aria was a teenager,” Louise says sadly.

My heart sinks, and I look at Aria, whose jaw is tense as she looks anywhere but at me.

“And then we lost my second husband there a few years later, and it’s been Aria and me ever since.”

“Okay, Grandma, I think it’s time for Jett to get going now,” Aria says, leaping to her feet. “In fact, it’s getting late. I’ll escort Mr. Abrams home.”

Aria grabs her jacket and throws it on with lightning speed.

“Oh, I suppose it is late,” Louise says, grabbing the mugs and placing them in the sink, then walking us to the door.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Louise. Thank you for the tea and for letting me stop by,” I say.

Louise surprises me as she wraps her small arms around my torso in a warm hug.

“Nice to meet you too, Jett,” she says as she releases me. “And do me a favor? Take care of my girl, okay?”

I smile. “Sure thing.”

Louise hugs Aria next. “Have fun at the symphony tomorrow. Don’t pay that little weasel any attention, okay?” Louise says into her hair.

Aria laughs. “Okay, thanks, Grandma. Don’t forget to take your blood pressure meds, okay? And I’ll grab your other prescriptions this weekend.”

Aria takes care of everyone in her life.

Louise lets go and waves dismissively at her. “All right, all right. Night, kids.”

We walk to my car in silence, and I open Aria’s door for her.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could drive!” Aria says sarcastically.

I stand behind her and lean in toward her ear. “I can’t,” I say in a low tone. “Now, get in.”

I give her a gentle push, and she slides in. We’re silent while I start the car and begin driving.

“Okay, seriously? What are you ~doing?~” she asks.

“You don’t have to go to the symphony tomorrow,” I say, keeping my eyes forward. I can feel her looking at me.

“What?”

“My mom’s friend Robin is going to go with her.”

Aria folds her arms. “Is this supposed to make up for the fact that you just showed up at my grandmother’s house?” she asks, clearly relieved but holding on to her frustration.

“I’m glad I got to meet her,” I say, and I see Aria soften slightly. “She seems really special.”

Aria sighs, and I can see that she’s finally giving up her desire to have it out with me.

“She is,” she says quietly. “She really is.”