I’m sitting across from Jake in Eleven Madison Park, a bustling popular restaurant, his current favorite
place to eat and watching him mess with his cell while we wait on our food.
“Jake?” I interrupt gently.
“Emma?” He responds without looking up. He’s deliberately being evasive.
“The Hunter merger?” My curiosity has been niggling all the way here and I have been extremely
patient. He sighs and looks down at his cell, puts it inside his jacket, bringing his steady green gaze
back to me. His face unreadable.
“My father and Hunter are not what you would call the best of friends anymore,” he mumbles quietly.
Sighing that he can’t avoid this any longer.
“Anymore?” I repeat flatly.
“Yes, Emma, anymore. They used to be as close as Daniel and I.” He leans back, sliding down into his
chair a little and slides his feet to cage mine under the table on either side. Our upper ankles
connecting slightly. Jake is a toucher; he always has to have some sort of contact it seems. It no longer
bothers me given it was such a slow thing that I just got used to.
“What happened?” I watch his face carefully, he’s good at giving nothing away, amazing poker face.
“My father had an affair with Elsa Hunter.” Daniel’s mother, and Hunter’s wife.
Crap.
I wasn’t expecting that.
Is that the basis of his bond with Daniel, shared anger at their parents?
“It’s not exactly common knowledge.” He sighs and moves his water glass; he needs a point of focus. I
can tell this is something he hates talking about. Jake only fidgets when he’s very uncomfortable and
it’s his biggest tell, watching items he moves around, as though for distraction.
“When?” I know I shouldn’t pry, but Jake rarely denies me knowledge, on any subject. Weirdly.
“When I was in my early twenties … My mother forgave him, but I didn’t, not for a long time … I’m not
sure I’ve forgiven him, even now. He broke her heart.” Jake’s relationship with his mother is
unparalleled. I can see why he harbors so much anger toward his father and I also see why Jake’s a
little apprehensive when it comes to real relationships.
“Is that why you pushed for this? … To get at him?” I nudge his ankle gently with mine, so he’ll look at
me.
“Yes … No … We stand to do well with this, but I guess it’s always been a factor.” He shrugs and
avoids my gaze, signaling that the money hasn’t been the main reason. Jake’s also a “shrugger”; it has
to be his most common mannerism, annoyingly so. It does, however, emphasize his shoulders and the
sheer solid mass of them.
“How did you find out?” I try tearing my gaze from his upper body. Still appreciative that he looks good
in everything he wears.
“Carl Hunter caught them in bed together, in his own house.” He’s still focusing on his glass and turning
it absent-mindedly. Clearly not happy.
“So, that’s why there’s a weird atmosphere when he’s around?” I watch his every movement, a little
empathetic to how young he looks when he does this.
Makes so much more sense now.
“I don’t think I can ever forgive him for hurting my mom like that. She deserves better than him.” I know
Jake’s close to his mother, he visits her often and he has me send her flowers every month. A dozen
colorful Gerberas … her favorites.
A thoughtful son.
“She stayed with him though? She could have left him if she wanted too.” I point out, a little enamored
with how deeply he feels for his mother’s heart ache.
Sensitive and loyal. Who would have guessed it?
“You try leaving a publicly famous billionaire when he’s been caught with his finger in someone else’s
pie, Bambino … She knew he would have caused chaos for her if she tried. It’s one of the reasons I
feel like I do about him. He’s a fucking control freak and all about his reputation.” The flash of anger
surprises me. Jake isn’t one to lose his cool so easily, or publicly. He shifts in his chair, taking a deep
breath and quells his outburst a little; his eyes are still stormy, but his awareness of the surroundings
causes it to burn out quickly.
“He forced her to stay?” I understand why he feels that way.
“In a way, I feel he did.” He gazes across the restaurant as though trying to find his inner calm in the
sea of strange faces around us.
“And now?” I urge. Coaxing him with no real input to give back.
“She’s in her fifties, she’s resigned herself to the fact she won’t ever be able to find someone else and I
guess she still has feelings for him. She’s trapped in a loveless marriage.” He looks back at me, a small
sardonic smile brewing. The hurt evident on his face and it makes me want to reach out and take his
hand, but I hold back.
“A loveless marriage?” The thought is so sad, especially for someone as lovely as Sylvana Carrero.
“It’s been loveless on his part for a long time, Emma. I think even before the affair there were cracks in
the facade. My father married her after a one-month romance.” He finally stops looking around
evasively, his eyes coming to rest on my face.
“Do you think Elsa was the only affair?” I ask, wondering why he’s telling me this now.
“Probably not, but it’s the only one I found out about.”
“It explains why you’re always so off with him. Your parents seem fine when I’ve met them at events.”
That is true; a beautiful woman and her adoring husband is what they excel at portraying in person.
How odd that the truth is so very different. I know all about hiding true appearances. I am a master of
deceit in my own right.
“A carefully played ruse, Emma. My father is all about appearances, my mother knows her place and
how to play her part.” Jake looks angry again, but his demeanor is still cool and controlled, he moves
his glass for the tenth time in a show of discomfort.
“Your behavior in your younger years? … Rebelling was payback?” This has interested me for a while,
his teen wild days and then reform always seems at odds with how he is now. He shrugs and drinks his
wine thoughtfully.
“Some … I had other reasons too.” He looks anywhere but me, and I can tell he’s hiding something.
Being evasive again.
“Such as?” I nudge again with a soft smile, not easily swayed.
“Italian blood.” He smiles cheekily, trying to pass off my question and I see it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s
the first time I’ve ever seen him truly avoidant when it comes to our personal chats; normally he’s so
open with me about everything. I push down the tremor of doubt, my gut telling me that maybe I’m over
thinking it.
Our steaks arrive, and we sit silently while the waitress lays them out on our table. He gives her one of
his seductive smiles and I watch her literally slump with desire.
Jesus, you’re being so obvious, it’s actually pathetic woman!
I frown across at him, a visual telling off. He likes to invoke the reaction for his own amusement, the
eternal playboy with the childish temperament. He likes the effect he has on women of all ages.
“She may have trouble finishing her shift now,” I scold after she wanders away.
“Jealous?” He winks at me, but I just glare at him coldly.
No. Maybe?
“Your un-flailing libido never fails to impress me,” I retort sarcastically. Ignoring how often it does annoy
me.
“Least I have a sex life.” He takes a mouthful of food, giving me that teasing eyebrow lift of his.
“Meaning?” I pick up my fork and clean it on my napkin before I start with the salad, still watching him
with a very serious expression.
“Meaning, I’ve spent many intimate hours with you and am yet to see any form of date or fuck buddy
keeping you cheerful.” He raises his eyebrows then digs into his food again. No shame in what he just
said, and I swallow hard.
“I’ve more important things to do and no desire to date or find a “fuck buddy”.” I grimace at his term,
throwing him a furrowed brow, completely unamused.
“Might put a smile on your face.” He’s grinning. I lift my chin towards him and throw on a mock smile, as
widely as I can muster. Forced of course.
“There. See. No man needed,” I point out as he laughs and shakes his head at me in amusement.
“How come you never seem to date anyone? I mean you’re not exactly unattractive, you could easily
pull … I’ve seen the way men check you out. Are you holding out for me to hang up my playboy hat
and settle down?” He chuckles. The thought makes me feel odd inside, but I remain
impassive.
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