Chapter 8

ARIA

Jett is leaving for London today, and honestly, I’m looking forward to the break. I’ve only been at Alastair Holdings for a week and a half, but it’s feeling like the longest week and a half of my life.

This week has been both easier and harder than the first. I have the hang of Jett’s schedule and the way he communicates, but the awkwardness that developed between us after the gala debacle has taken some time to fade.

One minute he’s kissing me and completely humiliating my ex (who frankly deserved it), and the next we’re at each other’s throats in the car.

I don’t like confrontation, hence avoiding Gray in the first place, but Jett attacking my character for having been with Gray felt like a step too far.

Not to mention he didn’t ~have~ to kiss me to embarrass Gray. Did he do that on purpose? Did he ~want~ to kiss me? I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t say it felt good.

A PA getting involved with her rich, billionaire boss is the ~worst~ thing I could do. Not only is it a painful cliché, but it’s completely unethical and, frankly, trashy.

It’s all so confusing, and I find my brain preoccupied with all the potential scenarios several times throughout the week. The sooner we get another PA in here, the better.

Jett comes in wearing jeans and a simple black North Face zip-up. I actually rather enjoy seeing him in something besides a suit and workout clothes. ~I wonder what he wears to bed.~

I shake the thought from my head. I have to stop lusting after my boss, even if he is a thirst trap. And even if he is my ~temporary~ boss. And even if ~he~ kissed ~me.~

~Ugh, I need to get out of this office~.

“I’m taking off,” Jett says as he appears in my doorway.

“Oh! Okay, have a great trip. Will you need anything from me when you get back on Sunday?”

“No, but…” Jett walks over and hands me a key card and a large gold key. “This is the key to my apartment. You may need it while I’m gone.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” I say, slightly taken aback.

“I just mean, if anything comes up, you can use this to get in and take care of things,” he says. “And you’re welcome to use the gym and the pool.”

“Okay. Well, if you ever need a small one-bedroom apartment that has a great view of an alley, let me know,” I say.

Jett chuckles and gives me a wide smile, which makes my heart flutter.

“See you on Monday,” he says.

“Great. Have a safe flight, and let me know if you need anything,” I say.

Jett offers me a small wave, then disappears.

With Jett out of the office, I am able to conquer several tasks as well as check in at DYAD.

Tim finally sent me a report on every Alastair Holdings PA before me and the given reason for their exit. I plan to peruse it thoroughly on Sunday. For now, it’s time to go see my grandma.

My grandma, Louise, raised me from the time I was eleven. I never met my dad, and my mom died from a drug overdose right after my fourteenth birthday.

I know I have half siblings out there, but I’ve never had the time or nerves to try to locate them. For most of my life, it’s been Grandma and me. She made my Halloween costumes, she threw my birthday parties, and she was present at every graduation and celebration.

For years, she lived off her second husband’s retirement fund and life insurance after he died in a car accident. Unfortunately, as she’s aged, she’s had multiple medical episodes that have drained her funds faster than we hoped.

Now, she’s living on crumbs and getting by with my help. Every extra dollar I have goes to my grandma, including paying for a caregiver to help her out. It seemed silly at first, but with me working so much lately, I’m really grateful Samantha is there to take care of her.

That’s why the DYAD bonus is so important and why an IPO offering could be huge. I’d love for my grandma to have full-time care for the rest of her life, and it’d be even better if I didn’t have to work sixteen hours a day to secure it for her.

Grandma lives in an old townhome in Hamilton Heights, left to her by her second husband. When my mom and I first came to live with her, it felt huge—and for New York, it is—but over the years I’ve started to see the cracks.

I’d love for her to sell it and move to a nice condo with amenities, but she won’t have it.

I’ve considered moving back in with her to save on rent, but the cost and time of transportation outweigh the perks…for now. As the days go by, it feels more like an inevitability.

I stop at a store on the way and grab some groceries, then make my way up the steps and knock on her door.

“Is that my beautiful granddaughter?” Grandma asks as she approaches the door. She opens it and throws her arms around me.

“Hi, Grandma! How are you?” I ask as I hug her back and move into the kitchen to unpack the groceries.

“Oh, I’m doing fine, hon. How are you? Did you patch things up with your boss?” she asks as she puts some water in a kettle.

Memories of my last visit come flooding back to me: it was the day after the gala, and my anger was still simmering from my fight with Jett.

“Yeah, we’ve cleared the air since then and are doing better,” I say. “But he also just left town, so I actually have the weekend off, which is great!”

“Good for you! And do you have any fun plans?”

I finish putting the groceries away, and she pours two cups of tea.

“I’m hanging with you tonight. Otherwise, I’m cleaning my apartment and going to the gym,” I say with a shrug as I blow on my tea.

She sits down and plants her face in the palm of her hand. “No offense, dear, but that sounds like a pretty humdrum weekend.”

I laugh. “Thanks a lot!”

She places her small hand on top of mine and squeezes. “Ari, you are a stunning, successful, twenty-nine-year-old single woman in an amazing city! I just don’t want to see you spend all your time working.”

“My current schedule is temporary. I’ll have more free time soon, hopefully,” I reassure her.

What I don’t tell her is that, even though I make good money, I don’t typically have a lot of extra funds because I pay for most of her bills and her caregiver on top of my own bills.

For years, my grandmother supported me and never let me know about the financial struggle of caring for a child she didn’t intend to have under her roof. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized how challenging that must’ve been for her.

When I was twelve, I heard her arguing on the phone with my mom, who was probably in the middle of a bender, about how I needed some money so I could play volleyball in middle school.

The argument ended with my grandmother calling her a bad mom and slamming the phone down on the receiver. I don’t know how she did it, but she scraped together the $100, plus some, so I could play and get some new equipment.

My grandmother scraped everything she had together to give me an amazing life, and I’m happy to return the favor.

“Well, what do you want to do tonight?” Grandma’s voice snaps me out of my memories.

“I grabbed some of your favorite snacks, and we can play a round of cribbage if you want?”

“Sounds great.”

I spend the next few hours sipping tea and getting beat in cribbage by my grandma. I’ve spent countless Friday nights this same way, and I have loved each and every one.

I can’t help but think she’s right, though. Maybe I do need to let loose a little.