Page 2 of Heartbreaker

Chapter 1

Jackson

The bathroom is full of steam. Taking the towel from around my neck, I wipe the mirror clean. Rubbing my hand over the stubble on my cheeks, I wonder if I can get away without shaving. The girl I’m meeting later tonight is a sweet, clean-cut girl, so I decide that yes, I probably should shave. Impressions are everything and I want my first one to be a good one. It’s the least she deserves.

Hitting play on my favourite playlist, as I need some tunes first, I smile as the sound of Journey comes out the Bluetooth speaker system in my bathroom and I immediately break into song. I’m tone deaf and small children would probably run screaming at the sound, but I don’t care. No, scratch that, my niece loves her Uncle Jackson singing to her. Our favourite song is ‘Shut Up and Dance’ by Walk the Moon.

I have a little dance around the bathroom as I rub shaving foam onto my face. Yes, I dad dance! I can’t dance unless it’s slow or embarrassing ‘dad dancing’. But as it’s only me that will ever see it, I don’t give a shit.

I smile at the thought of my niece Maisy and I going full gusto on the chorus, my invisible fans screaming for more. I once hoped to be a Rock Star but soon grew out of that silly notion. I shave, giving into some air guitar as the song ends. Laughing to myself I start wondering what my friends would say if they saw me now. I run my fingers through my hair, leaving it wet and messy looking.

Crossing to my bedroom, I shed the towel from my hips and quickly dress. I decide on the Slate grey Armani suit, with a white shirt and amethyst coloured tie. I dab my face with Chanel Bleu, the citrusy scent of grapefruit and jasmine with a note of sandalwood seems to be a winner with the ladies. I jog downstairs with a spring in my step.

Pouring a glass of sparkling water, I sit at the breakfast bar and check my messages. There are five new client enquiries in the last two hours. At this rate I’ll need to take someone else on, but I don’t want to as this company is my baby, and I want to look after it. I send a quick message to my secretary Lindy to schedule some appointments for next week. I like to talk to my clients first before I agree to work with them, and I have to say that I don’t take all of them on, for my own reasons.

Checking the time on the sleek black watch my mum gave me as my eighteenth birthday present I see that it is time to leave. Sauntering down the steps of my townhouse I lock up and flick the keypad on the alarm. This may be the nice part of London, but it still has crime, and my baby needs to be safe.

Unlocking the sleek white Mercedes C—class coupe that I bought last month, the smell of new car hits my nose and I instantly feel happy. That is the smell of success. The growl of the engine as she starts is like music to my ears. Peeling away from the kerb I accelerate towards the West End.

*~*~*

I pull into my space behind Myiako. This little gem of a Japanese restaurant is like my second home. I’ve been coming here for so long now that all the waiters know me, and they also know I like space when I meet someone. They are discreet, unobtrusive, efficient.

The main restaurant is decorated in cool crisp lines with a minimum of fuss. Tiny white orchid lights adorn the entire ceiling giving a feeling of being outside, along with an indoor water feature. The walls are bare except for some black and white prints of Samurai. Tables are sleek black with sharp white tablecloths. It’s quite an intimate setting and perfect for tonight.

I glance at Akihiko, the manager, and he gives me a nod letting me know that my usual table is ready. Looking over I see my guest is here. I feel the adrenalin spike when I see her. She’s a petite redhead, porcelain white skin and a body to die for, you can tell that she works out.

She turns her head as I approach, a smile graces her cupid’s bow mouth. She really is lovely; and young. I smile back at her while she stands. Her six-inch heels cause her to stumble so I reach out, grasping her elbow to steady her, the blush that stains her cheeks as she dips her head is so endearing. As she straightens, I take her hand and shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Cassy,” I murmur. Her eyes reach mine, and she smiles again. Sometimes I hate my job, when I get a nice girl standing in front of me, but at least this way she will leave with dignity.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr Byrne,” she says. I can hear the shakiness in her voice, she’s nervous.

“Please, call me Jackson,” I say as I pull out the chair opposite and we sit. I watch as Cassy fiddles with her bag in her lap. She looks like a small child playing dress-up in her mum’s clothes. The clothes are sexy and sophisticated, a floral black and coral pencil skirt with the black sleeveless blouse are perfect for tonight. It’s just she’s got this innocent face. Even with all the make-up, she still looks about fifteen years old.

God, when did I get so old? I return my attention to the task at hand. “Would you like anything to drink?” I ask.

“A white wine, please.”

Beckoning Akihiko over I order wine for her and sparkling water for me. We make small talk while we wait for our drinks. I hate that she thinks this is a job interview, but it is always the best way to get them to meet me, if I told them the truth from the start, I think I would get some abuse over the phone.

Finally, our drinks are served, and I look at Cassy. I have to start this otherwise I’ll be sitting here all day, having a fake interview with her. That happened once. I had to meet this girl and she was the sweetest person I think I’ve ever met, so there I was having this ‘interview’ with her. She was so happy at the end of it. Then I had to do my job and tell her the truth, I actually felt really bad.

“Cassy, I know you think this is a job interview, but it isn’t.” She looks at me in surprise, which I knew would happen. “Last week I had a phone call from a man named Jed.” I see the frown as she recognises the name. “I’m not going to lie. Jed, your boyfriend has hired me to dump you.” I wait a while for that to sink in.

Her bottom lip wobbles. I want to smack Jed the douchebag for hurting this sweet girl and she is a sweet girl. The file I have on her shows she works as a dog walker. She’s been supporting herself and her mum for the last three years. If that isn’t a sweet girl then I’ll eat liquorice and I hate that nasty tar tasting shit.

“But I don’t understand?” she stammers as tears fill her eyes. I sigh as I try to make this easier for her.

“Apparently you snore,” I say and watch as her wobbly lip firms up and anger crosses her face. That’s it girl, don’t cry over that dickhead.

“I what?” she asks on a snarl that reminds me of my Nanna’s old Rottweiler. Apparently, this little puppy bites.

“You snore. Like a train. Well, more like an old Steam Train that’s about to run out of coal and is limping towards the station,” I say, smiling, hoping that it will bring a smile to her lips, it does, a grin touching her lips like I hoped it would.

“I’m really sorry, Cassy. You seem like a sweet girl and don’t deserve this. Honestly, I think you’re well shot of him.”

“But I love him,” she says her grin fading.