Prologue
Jack
“Foster.”
“Jack! How are you, mate? Are you still mucking around in the States?” Gio’s voice booms down the line, a stark change from his more subdued public persona.
I close my eyes, rubbing them with one hand. Gio Santoro, my old roommate from Oxford. I was in the business program, and Gio naturally gravitated toward music. An unlikely pairing. He took an overly serious, academic-obsessed student and dragged me into his world of music, light, and laughter—sometimes kicking and screaming.
“Gio! How are you?” I longingly glance at the quarterly report on my desk.
“I’m currently living and working in New York. Why do you ask?” Gio rambles on for a minute about the weather, how things have been going, and where his next tour will take him.
Making a snap decision, I close the report, since it appears Gio won’t let me get off the phone anytime soon—not that anyone would ever accuse him of being quiet. Even in uni, he was always the life of the party, having never met a stranger. For someone like me, who had grown up an introverted only child of older parents, Gio’s larger-than-life personality could be downright terrifying, even if it meant ensuring I socialized with other people at various get-togethers.
It takes a moment for me to realize Gio paused, and my gut tells me he’s up to his old tricks. “Well, amico di lunga data. I need a favor.”
Gio and his favors, albeit not frequently requested, always have a way of throwing my life for a loop. I can’t afford to let Gio Santoro turn my world upside down again. The last time it happened was when I met Monica, and I most certainly do not need a trip down that particular memory lane.
“What kind of favor, Gio? I have to be honest. I’m swamped with work. My assistant went into early labor, which means early maternity leave. The agency hasn’t sent a replacement, and I’m barely keeping my head above water here.”
I spin around to look out across the New York skyline. I don’t have time for this, but Gio never cares about time management. After Oxford, he went on to become a famous singer. Last I heard, he was in LA, dating the lead vocalist of a popular indie band from Texas that seems to be making waves on the music scene.
Daisy? Denise? Delilah. That’s it. Delilah.
“Well, that’s why I’m calling. Antony told me what was happening. It seems his daughter is in the States finishing her degree, but there’s a hitch. She needs internship hours, but no company wants to accept her because she’s due back in Australia by Christmas.”
I grip my pen hard enough that the plastic protests. The third musketeer of our little group, Antony, was someone I considered a friend until I caught him one night with my fiancée, who promptly ditched me and married him.
“I didn’t know he had a daughter.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I didn’t think Monica would let herself get pregnant. She never wanted kids with me.”
“No. She’s still as selfish as ever.”
“What?” My head spins with the news.
“His daughter is twenty-four. Long story short, Antony got his high school sweetheart pregnant at sixteen, but he didn’t know. Something about him transferring to a private school. She raised the girl on her own until she got into an accident and passed when the kid was only twelve. The grandmother was considered unfit due to her age and the fact she was living in a retirement community. Hence, the authorities contacted Antony, and he took custody.”
I raise my eyebrows at this. I feel sorry for the girl. I can’t imagine Antony as a doting father. It would force him to take time away from his favorite person: himself.
“Gio, I don’t know...” The last thing I want is a family member of Antony’s running around my business and reporting back to him, much less his daughter.
Antony and I haven’t shared a conversation since the night I caught him with Monica a decade ago and I would much rather keep it that way. That doesn’t mean I haven’t kept tabs on him. A cynical part of me thinks this girl could be a spy sent to access my business. After all, rumor has it Antony had a bad year and lost several customers.
“Jack, the girl is desperate. She’s at the top of her class and a hard worker. She needs a fair shake. In fact, she’s in town interviewing at Goldberg’s.”
Sometimes I hate that I know him better than most. I can tell when he’s putting on a public front. I can also tell when he’s being sincere. And right now, Gio Santoro is as sincere as they come.
I grimace. Goldberg is a leech, and his last three assistants were paid off to prevent the sexual harassment claims from going to court. Despite my lack of regard for Antony, I would never willingly subject a female to Goldberg’s advances.
“For fuck’s sake. Don’t let the girl go there. Tell her to come here. I’ll interview her myself. I promise nothing, Gio.” I keep my tone firm. “I’ll interview her. If she is as competent as you say, she can be my new assistant until she returns home, and I’ll sign off on her internship hours.”
“Jack, you’re the best! Thanks so much! You won’t regret it!”
Famous last words. I’m sure I will regret this very much.
My leather chair creaks as I spin back around to my computer. “What’s her name? So I can put her on the list at the reception.” I open an email and wait.
“Maisie. Maisie Mitchell.”