He looked at the glass in his hand, avoiding my eye contact and clearly thinking. He had trimmed his beard since this morning and part of me missed the slightly unkempt look. "It does. They're good people, Max and Claire especially. And Payton. She's..." He stopped himself, shaking his head. "You don't want to hear me go on about my brothers and sisters while you're just drinking water."
I smiled, shaking my head. The atmosphere in the room felt thick and I realized I was clutching at my glass with both hands. I hadn't felt like this in a long time, if ever. Nervous, happy, curious and affected by the man in front of me in many ways. Certainly not when I met Richard. "Your family that I've met so far have all been lovely," I said. "Even Seph. I'm not sure if he's your brother anymore after you tore him a new one this afternoon though."
"You heard that?" He looked perturbed. "Shit."
"I was in the copying room at the time." It was next to Seph's office. I may or may not have been hoping that Jackson would have needed to photocopy something after yelling at his brother. "I doubt anyone else heard."
"No, trust me, lots of people will have heard and if they didn't hear, someone will have told them." He sighed, looking tired again. "Seph's girlfriend finished with him a few months ago and he's not managing well. I don't think it's a bad thing – I know that sounds harsh. She was his first proper girlfriend but there never seemed to be much, I don't know, chemistry between them. They were more like friends who I assume slept together."
"I've seen him out in a couple of the bars near Borough Market before I started at your place," I said. "He hasn't looked too wasted, or out of control but he's always had a different couple of girls with him and been the center of attention." Seph was hard to miss. Out of the three brothers, I had met so far, he was the most gorgeous. He'd been featured in a gossip column in one of the weekly magazines for being seen with an up and coming actress and there was speculation that he was about to be offered a modeling contract, which was just speculation. I suspected he would become of the most eligible bachelor types, arm candy for socialites, and Callahan Green would need someone to deal with the publicity from that.
Jackson held my eyes, almost scowling. He wasn't stupid, he'd get the possibility for adverse publicity. "Is there a finishing school for lawyers I could send him to somewhere?"
"You could enforce a leave of absence until he sorts himself out," I suggested. "I've had to do that with one of my employees after she lost her mum. She was determined to keep working but it was detrimental to everything else."
"I could and I've thought about it, but his work isn't suffering and I think taking that routine away will make him worse." He finished the water, holding the empty glass on the arm of the sofa.
"I'll put together a general protocol for when staff appears in the media outside of work. You have some fairly young employees so you should have that in place anyway and it'll give Kirsty some guidance as to what to do if anything negative comes up," I gulped down what was left of my drink. "You look tired, Jackson. I feel bad enough you've come over to check I'm okay."
"You promise me you won't worry about this?" he said, gesturing to the bank statement and leaning forward. "I honestly don't think you have anything to worry about with Richard. It's an easy case for me to get you the best outcome possible."
I stood up and went to the floor to ceiling window that overlooked London. From here I could see Tower Bridge, The Shard, the continuum of lights that told me I was never alone in this place. I didn't want to look at Jackson, because as well as every cell in my body telling me that sex with this man would be a homecoming like no other, they were also telling me I could trust him, something that was unknown to me unless it was my dad and gran back in Derbyshire.
"Van," he said and I realized he was standing behind me. I felt the pressure of his hands-on top of my shoulders. "He's going to know by Monday at the latest that you've hired your current client as your lawyer. There is nothing he can do about that, it's not a wrong thing to do. I will tell his solicitor all communication has to go through me and he is not to contact you directly if you like. Does he have any clients at the moment? Is there any reason he would need to speak with you about work?"
His thumb and fingers started to meld into my shoulders and I wished I wore a padded bra rather than the old and comfy thing I had on because my nipples were erect and the window at night made a good mirror. But he was holding my eyes through our reflections, not looking down and his hands felt so good, like heat against my skin on a cold day. "He doesn't have clients. I'm the creative partner– my role has always been to head up that team. He should have been running the business side, dealing with clients and managing workload and time expectations but wasn't much involved after the initial year or so. He runs another company as well, one he started himself with some start-up capital from his trust fund."
"Okay. So he's no reason to contact you," he said. His thumbs were now pressing towards my spine and I didn't care about my ex or website design or engagement rates, I just want to melt into this man and for him not to be my client. I wanted his hands under my clothes and mine under his, discovering new territories like two seventeenth-century explorers. "He probably will though."
"Yes. I've tried to speak to him about buying him out or the other way around and I've made some reasonable proposals, really reasonable as I just want him out of my life but his response has always been rather outlandish." I realized the back of my head was leaning against his chest and didn't bother to lift it away. "I don't think he wants to sell the apartment or the business or have me leave. He wants me on the side as a backup plan. I don't even think he's told his father I've moved out."
"Why the hell did you start seeing him in the first place? I shouldn't criticise as I've known you less than a day, but he seems a complete idiot." His fingers pointed towards my scalp and pressed lightly into my hair. My eyes closed, no shits were given about how visible my hard nipples might be now.
"I was young and the idea of being a power couple was attractive. He could be charming too and I could manipulate him to take on board my ideas. He was the perfect career opportunity and a relationship with him seemed sensible, although Sophie did say at the time I should keep work and my love life separate." His hands paused, as if he's considering the last thing I said and I wished I could take it back.
"I think that's difficult. Lots of people meet their partner through work. Maybe working with them on a daily basis is more complicated but it sounds like you were going to have different roles in the business anyway. And hindsight's a bitch." His left hand dropped to my waist. I wanted to turn around and face him, to see what was in his eyes without using our reflection. I wanted to feel his beard against my face and touch his arms, trace his tattoos and know what his skin felt like against mine.
The click of the front door broke the silence that had fallen, gentle strumming of undoubtedly expensive heels against the hardwood flooring echoing through the rooms.
"Fucking bastard shoes."
I started to laugh quietly, my shoulders shaking. Jackson's hands remained where they were and I could feel him laughing too.
"Why do we put ourselves through the pain of looking good for fucking men who are nothing but..."
"Hi, Sophie!" I decided now was a good time to interrupt her diatribe. "How were your drinks?"
"Oh shit, sorry." She walked around to where we were, eyes like slits, studying. Jackson's hands were by his sides but we were still too close for just business – depending on the business, of course. "Excuse my language," she looked at Jackson. "I'm not usually as colorful."
"She is." I couldn't help it.
Sophie glared at me. "And besides, I thought either your meeting would be over by now or you'd be in the bedroom." She grinned wickedly and walked away. "Drink?"
I felt blood rush into my cheeks and I forced myself to look up at Jackson. "Sorry," I mouthed. He smiled, coffee eyes sparkling. "No thanks," I called to Sophie. "I'm going to have an early night."
Jackson headed into the living room, exchanging pleasantries with Sophie and picking up his jacket and helmet. I waited impatiently near the front door, knowing that the night was over and wishing it wasn't, wondering what would've happened if Sophie had been back later.
Maybe it was for the best. The Callaghan's were becoming media fodder; seven beautiful siblings from a wealthy background, all of whom were intelligent, single and successful. I certainly wouldn't do anything to enhance either of our reputations, business or personal, by starting something off with Jackson – if he was interested, and I had the feeling he was.
