Page 10 of Jack Frost, CEO

I share how he wanted me to go to Oxford, but I wanted to choose my own path and opted to attend school in the States despite the cost. I even tell her I spent the last three years working two jobs while attending classes. By the time I wrap up my story, the muffins are nothing but crumbs, and what little coffee we have left is cold.

“Well.” Stella clears her throat. “What a colossal ass!”

A small chuckle escapes my lips. A part of me feels bad, because he’s my father. “You’re not wrong. It just happened to work out that Uncle Gio knew Mr. Foster needed an assistant and arranged my interview.” I stare into my cup, so I don’t see Stella’s jaw drop but I do hear the sudden hitch in her voice.

“Your Uncle Gio?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“What’s his last name?”

“Santoro?”

“OH-MY-GOD!”

“What?”

Stella shoves her chair back before standing and pointing at me. “GIO SANTORO IS YOUR UNCLE!”

I look around nervously. Lucky for me, the few employees in the canteen appear to ignore Stella’s outburst. “I mean, he’s not really my uncle. He went to school with my dad and Jack—Mr. Foster. So, when we met, he told me to call him Uncle Gio. He’s always been really kind to me.” I tug on my hair.

“Okay. So, let’s break this down. You needed a job that would allow you to finish your internship hours and still live. Your Uncle Gio Santoro pulled some strings, and you were hired here. However, you are more than qualified for the position. So, what’s the issue?”

“Father called Mr. Foster. Uncle Gio said they haven’t spoken in a decade or more. It can’t be a coincidence that the first time they talk is also my first day working here.”

Stella bites her lip. “No. It can’t be, but you don’t know what they’re talking about. It could be—” Her words are cut off by a chime from my phone.

Picking it up, I see two text messages. The one from my bank says I received a deposit of $25,000. The second text is from Father telling me to ask Jack to do things I will never repeat and not to expect him to send me any more money when this is gone.

I set my phone back down and cross my arms over my chest. “Well, I think I understand what was said. I have to talk to Mr. Foster about minding his business and staying out of my family drama.”

Stella drinks the last of her cold coffee before pushing to her feet. “Oh, boy. Here we go.”

I barge into Mr. Foster’s office, and he stares at me wide-eyed before hanging up the phone. “What did you tell Father?” I’m so angry I’m practically vibrating.

“Excuse me?”

“What. Did. You. Tell. Father?” I approach his desk, gripping the edge so hard my knuckles are white.

“The truth, Maisie. I told him the truth about his actions and how they would be perceived. About how what he is doing is child abuse—to his own daughter, no less—and that if the word got out to his social circle, he might find a different reaction. I’m guessing he reached out to you then?”

I never considered myself a violent person, but Jack’s calm, rational tone makes me want to throw things directly at his head. “You had no right! None! The last thing I want or need is his hush money! I was doing just fine on my own!” I toss my unlocked phone onto the desk in front of him.

Jack picks it up and views the one-sided text thread with Father, since the man hardly ever replies to me. “How much did he send you?”

“Why does it matter! It’s money I don’t want!”

“But you need it, Maisie! I know you want to stand on your own, but helping provide for you is the bare minimum he should be doing as your parent! He has literal millions. Did you know that? Millions! He should support you no matter where you want to study! So, take the money, pay off what you need to pay off, and do something fun with the rest. Update your wardrobe, go out to eat, see a play—well, I’ll give you my seats at the opera if you want.” Jack stands and comes around the desk, stopping in front of me. “I don’t want you to just keep on existing. I want you to LIVE.” Jack reaches out and cups my cheek again.

I feel the tears pooling in my eyes because every word is almost a physical punch to the gut. How long have I just been existing? Trying to make it from one day to the next? How long has it been since I was just able to be carefree and happy? The fact that Jack can see all of that after only knowing me one day makes my heart ache.

Since I went against Father’s wishes and he cut me off, I’ve only existed, trying to make it from shift to shift, job to job. While Father would probably consider the amount an insult—a pittance—for me, it’s life-changing.

“How did you know?” My voice catches in my throat, which has suddenly become too tight.

“Because, my darling, once upon a time, we weren’t that different. I see you, Maisie, and if I can do something to ease your burden, I will. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jack’s hand drops from my face, and he walks around his chair. Without a doubt, I’ve been dismissed.

I walk back to my desk, where Stella is waiting while chewing on her thumbnail. When I grab my bag from where I flung it in my earlier snit, she grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Did you get fired? I couldn’t hear a thing. What did he say? What did you say? What did he do? What did you do?” Her voice ends on a wail, and I grab her arms to get her to stop shaking me.

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