“Great. I have a feeling you’re not going to be Jude’s assistant for long. You’ve got too many good ideas.”
“Thanks, Pryce. I really appreciate your kind words.”
“I’m speaking the truth. I didn’t mean to come off as rude. Maybe a little blindsided, but Jude likes to do that, to keep us on our toes—just to forewarn you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I don’t know him personally, but as a boss, he’s tough—very tough—but ultimately fair. Probably the hardest working man I’ve ever met. But you know him much better than I do.”
“Not really. I’ve been away a long time. Plus, I wasn’t his friend; Doug was.” He grinned. “I was the young, troublemaking, pain-in-the-ass little brother. Jude had no use for me.”
“Funny how things work out. Now he gets to use you every day.”
Again, the double entendre caught Mason up short, but he had no reason to think Pryce meant anything snide.
They finished their lunch, and Pryce dumped their plates into the trash. “So where do you want to start?”
Mason wanted to make one final statement so there wouldn’t be any doubt as to his place. “I just want to emphasize something first—I’m excited to learn from you and everyone else. I’m happy to have a job. I know I’m only here to be Jude’s assistant, but I really think it will help me overall with understanding and learning as much as I can about The Company. I was just talking to Jude earlier about the candy campaign.”
“Yeah?” Standing by his desk, Pryce cocked his head, brows raised. “Never Too Sweet? Are you going to be working on that campaign too?”
“I don’t know. That wasn’t the point of the conversation. I was simply giving Jude some ideas I had when I was typing his notes.”
Pryce picked up his laptop and sat in the chair next to Mason. “Let’s get started, then. You can tell me what you’ve got, and I’ll show you how to develop a campaign.”
“That’d be great. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. We’re all one big family here at The Company. What helps one, helps everybody.”
Mason could accept that he’d made a snap judgment where Pryce was concerned, and willing to set aside his initial misgivings, opened his laptop and pulled up his file.
“Here’s what I’ve done.”
Three hours later, he dragged his feet into his office. Damn, that was brutal. Pryce quizzed him on everything and insisted on Mason introducing him to the influencers and going through the campaign specifics with each one. It was the right way to handle things, but man, he was tired.
He slumped in his chair, rolled his shoulders, and yawning, picked up his phone. Doug and Ilana smiled at him from a text, the famous Arc de Triomphe on the Champs-Élysées looming in the background. He grinned and sent them a slew of hearts.
Jude was also on the text, but he hadn’t responded, and Mason wondered if he was still angry about their earlier argument. He closed his eyes for a moment, reliving their almost-kiss. God, he’d been so close to losing it. Jude had been a sexy motherfucker as a student in his twenties, and Mason had jerked off to tons of hot-and-dirty fantasies of the two of them screwing their brains out, but knowing what an uptight bastard Jude was, Mason had kept his secret crush strictly in the never-gonna-happen file. Except now it had, only as a big mistake, one Mason knew Jude would rather stab himself in the nuts than repeat.
As the years passed, Mason’s weakness for the slightly older, dark-and-broody type remained unchanged, and he now saw it was most likely a manifestation of his teenage crush on Jude. “Good to know that psych class I took for marketing was put to use,” he muttered to himself.
His phone rang, and it was one of the real-estate agents he’d left a message for earlier in the day.
“Mason Reiner.”
“Mr. Reiner, it’s Griffin Wilder. Is this a good time?”
“Yeah, sure. I have about ten minutes before I have to go into a meeting.”
“Okay, I’ll make it quick. I see you’re looking for either a sublease or to purchase in Chelsea or SoHo if the price is right. I have something you might be interested in.”
“Tell me. I’m so desperate to get out of my parents’ place, I’d go almost anywhere. Except Jersey.”
Wilder chuckled. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that to you. I have a sublease that fell through, and the owner is super anxious. How soon can you take possession if you like the place?”
Now it was Mason’s turn to laugh. “How about eight p.m. tonight? Seriously, where is this place?”
“It’s on Charlton off Sixth Avenue. A little off the beaten path but close to the 1 train and—”
