Page 9 of Jack Frost, CEO

I clear my throat, trying not to laugh as I interrupt my assistant’s tirade. Her back goes ramrod straight, and as she slowly turns to face me, I erupt into full belly laughs. Maisie has wet splotches on her shirt, coffee grounds in her hair, smears on her cheeks, and the portafilter in her hand.

I stride up, taking the portafilter away, and she blushes a pretty pink. Without thinking, my hand reaches up and gently swipes the coffee from her cheek. Her skin is warm under my touch, and I find myself cupping her face for longer than is work-place appropriate.

Her wide brown eyes stare up into mine, her pupils blown wide as her breath quickens and her pink lips part. I slide my hand into her hair, my fingers tangling in the silken strands before tugging slightly. I catch her gasp with my mouth above hers. I’m staring into her eyes as I brush against her lips.

My cell phone rings, breaking the moment, and Maisie jumps back while pressing a shaky hand over her lips. She turns and dashes from my office. I curse under my breath and pull out my phone, only to curse louder when I see Antony’s name on my screen. Gio must have given him my number because I know I sure the fuck didn’t.

“What?” I snap into the phone.

“You hired my DAUGHTER!” Antony’s angry voice comes over the line.

I almost kissed your daughter. I wisely keep that retort in my head. The last thing I need is to put a match to that powder keg.

“Someone needed to! You weren’t helping her! She has been drowning for THREE YEARS, and you couldn’t be bothered to get off your ass and care for her!” I slash a frustrated hand through the air, and the portafilter flies across the room. I rub the bridge of my nose. Today is not going as planned.

“She knew what going to the States meant. She is the one who decided that was what she wanted—”

I cut him off. “She has been working two jobs to afford FOOD, you pretentious bastard! Tough parenting is one thing, and then there’s neglect. And here’s a hint, boyo. You are so firmly in the neglect category it should be reported.”

Antony snorts. “You can’t neglect an adult child. She made her own choices and gets to live with them. You had no right to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Maybe so, Antony, but you know what? I bet all those posh friends of yours would think differently if they knew how you’ve been treating Maisie. I mean, the poor girl who lost her mother and got shipped off to a man she barely knew, then shoved into a boarding school and forgotten, only to graduate and have to work two jobs to afford a cup of noodles? That’s not a good look when her father is worth millions, now is it? All it would take is a word to the wrong group.” I tsk my tongue, like I’m ashamed of him. And I am. My opinion doesn’t mean shit, though. But his social circle? Oh, they matter.

“You wouldn’t dare...” Antony seethes, and I hear a voice screeching in the background. A voice I never want to hear again. Monica. I roll my eyes at their antics. Some things never change. Antony could never accept accountability at uni either.

“Now listen to me, MATE.” My voice is dark and deadly. I’m done with this jackass. “You will start to support your daughter the way she deserves, AS YOUR DAUGHTER, or I will. Your choice. Make it soon. Either way, she will have a job here for as long as she wants it.”

I hang up the phone and chuck it onto my desk in frustration. I take a minute to breathe and calm down. Turning around, I see the mess of my espresso machine again and chuckle. I clean up the scattered grounds and put the machine back together. Thankfully, nothing’s broken. It was just in the wrong spots.

Truth is, I wouldn’t have cared if she broke the machine. I can buy a hundred of the same models and never break a sweat. It was the thought behind what she tried to do that I couldn’t replace. How long has it been since someone cared enough to do such a small thing for me like make me a coffee without a hidden agenda?

I stare at the wooden door to my office as if I can see her, and the smell of coffee fills the space. Grabbing my cup, I move around and sit back in my chair. The pile of projects I requested is placed neatly on top of my desk with the notes typed up and paper clipped to each folder. The assistant position is below where she could be in my company. Still, it gives her the ability to focus on other aspects as well as earn a living.

Pushing the files aside, I draft an email to the private investigator I keep on retainer. Time to learn a bit more about Miss Mitchell.

Chapter 9

Maisie

Irush out to my desk on wobbly knees. Jack almost kissed me. ME! Maisie Mitchell!

I sink into my chair, pressing my trembling fingers on my lips. He would have kissed me, but Father called. What could he possibly want with Jack? According to Uncle Gio, they haven’t spoken in years.

Could it be a coincidence that I started working here, and Father calls for the first time in over five years?

I grab my purse from my desk. I need to take a break and be anywhere but here. I can’t do this right now. I dash for the lift, only to have Stella intercept me before I can press the button.

“Whoa, Maisie, are you okay? You’re running like the hounds of hell are after you! Did you get in trouble?” She pulls me closer and lowers her voice. “You didn’t get fired for standing up for me, did you?”

“No. No. It’s nothing like that, but I have to go. I’ve-I’ve…” I’m looking around, trying to figure out exactly what I have to do.

“Okay. Let’s go get a coffee, huh? Doesn’t that sound nice?” Stella grabs me by the hand and pushes the button to guide me to the canteen.

We each select a coffee and a muffin from the machine, and she pulls me over to a table in a quiet corner.

“Okay. Talk,” she says.

So I do. I tell her everything. From growing up with my mum in Sydney to the accident that claimed her life, to finding out who my father was, and then moving in with him and my stepmum. I tell Stella about how he refused to let me stay with my nan, stuck me in a posh boarding school in London, and ignored me even when I graduated.

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