Jackson sat in his office, staring at his computer. An image of him and Holly at his mother’s birthday party filled the screen. The photographer had sent the pictures days ago, but Jackson couldn’t make himself look. His mother hadn’t wasted any time printing, framing, and hanging all the pictures she could find of him and Holly all over the apartment. Ursula had made quite the show of removing everything else from the walls and even hiring art professionals to hang up each enlarged image and calling Jackson to inspect the placement of each item.
He’d started spending as much time as he could at work, trying to ignore his crumbling private life. Three days earlier, he had left Michigan and come home to Ursula chain smoking in his living room, her cold gaze calculating and judgmental. Although she had refused to speak a word to him, she made sure Holly was everywhere he looked. It was the worst punishment she could have dealt.
“Sir?” Jessica popped her head into his office. “I have the finance minister of Finland on line three.”
“Who cares?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
Jackson stopped, realizing he had spoken aloud. “Nothing. Thank you, Jessica.”
He tried getting some work done. He answered some calls, donated some money, tried going over some takeover reports, but found he couldn’t focus. By the time Denny called him, Jackson could barely force himself to pick up the phone.
“Jackson. Denny,” his campaign manager started. “Have you been looking at your numbers lately?”
“I’d rather not,” he replied, tuning away from his computer. Politics was the last thing on his jumbled mind.
“Well, it’s shit. Your breakup has really hit you where it hurts and your numbers are low, low, low.”
Jackson knew the words should have upset him, but he was struggling to find the will to care. “So, it’s over?”
“Jackson, buddy, what the hell happened?” Denny’s voice had lost its edge. “You were a goddamn shark with this shit and now…nothing. Is this about that Holly girl?”
He leaned back in his seat, looking out at the New York City skyline. “I fucked up.”
“Look, I don’t know what kinda deal you had going with this girl, but as your manager, you have to level with me now.”
“Long story short, she was my assistant, I used her as a fake fiancée, developed feelings for her, then majorly hurt her by treating her like an employee and telling her to just do what I paid her for.”
Denny let out a low whistle. “Yeah, I can see why she would hate your guts. But there’s no way to salvage it? At least have her come back for the rest of the campaign season?”
“I just got back from Michigan.”
“And?”
“She’s not coming.”
“And whose fault is that? I’ve seen you tear people apart to get what you want. You’ve dropped money on yachts just to impress oil sheiks. You’ve flown clients to China for Chinese food. What did you do for this girl?”
Jackson rubbed his chin, prickly from forgetting to shave that morning. Well, he had gone into the bathroom to do it, but there was a tube of Holly’s bright red lipstick right on the counter and he completely forgot all about his scruffy cheeks. “Denny, you’re right. I haven’t tried hard enough. But she says she doesn’t want my money.”
“You love her.”
Denny’s words made him pause. Of course he felt something strong toward Holly, but he’d thought it was merely lust or the first few weeks of a new romance, always full of positive feelings. He never thought to put a word to those feelings, but perhaps Denny was right. Maybe he did love Holly.
“Is it obvious?”
Denny chuckled into the receiver. “Well, I can tell you do. I work with politicians, and I know how to pick out a lie when I hear one. It’s all part of the game.”
Jackson sighed. “I really screwed up, Denny. I screwed up and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.” He felt a pang in his chest as the words left his lips. The thought of Holly leaving his life for good hurt more than he’d like to admit, but who better to help him fix a messy situation than one of the top campaign managers in the game who had cleaned up much worse during his career. “You have to help me, Denny. I need to get her back.”
“Wow, you really got it bad, huh?”
“Can you help me or not? I need to have her forgive me. I want her back.”
“Jackson, I would if I could. This isn’t some secret mistress or coke habit I can just pay away, this is a real person that you hurt. You say you care about her, so figure your shit out.”
Jackson cursed as he hung up the phone. He had to come up with a new plan.