Chapter Two—Jace

The blasting of my alarm clock rung out into my silent apartment at five am, but I'd been awake for an hour. Sleep hadn't come easy for me in years. When you felt as if the weight of the world pressed onto your shoulders—sleep seemed irrelevant.

I jerked the dark gray sheets from my legs and walked toward the bathroom adjacent to my bed. I turned on the golden faucet and stared at myself in the long half-wall length mirror.

The dark bags underneath my eyes hung heavier these days. With art shows every other week, and the pressure of my grandfather's lingering reputation over my head, I couldn't afford to make a mistake.

I showered quickly, made my coffee and took a quick look at the Houston Chronicle while leaning on the stainless steel island in my kitchen. The sunrise lingered over the Houston skyline in the distance, brightening up my dark gray furniture and what some would call broody atmosphere.

I sighed and braced my palms against the flat surface in front of me. A manila folder caught my eye on the far edge of the cabinet. I grabbed it, leaned back and crossed my ankles. Lidia Lambert stared back at me, her resume—that was impressive—underneath her grinning picture.

It looked more like a rap sheet folder, but I liked to see what my interviewees looked like. This one—she was a character. After hearing her call the place snotty, which wasn't too far off, I couldn't help but feel intrigued by her.

Even though she was a klutz and couldn't stop talking, her kind smile made me feel different from the two other kids I'd interviewed before her. She seemed genuine, which wouldn't last long in our business, because it was well that—business.

I shut the folder and leaned in to check my emails. Rebecca had emailed me over another interviewee scheduled for nine, which gave me plenty of time to open the gallery and settle in beforehand.

Not that I wouldn't make them wait thirty minutes, just to judge their attitude. Patience is a virtue, Grandpa always says.

I watched Lidia from my office on the second floor, tapping her heel and fixing her hat, and then dropping to her knees to dig in her purse. Poor girl had no idea I heard everything from the moment she walked in until the moment she left.

When I got to work at six thirty, the Houston traffic began its torturous pattern of horn blowing and curses out of the driver's side windows. The smell of pine wafted from the nightly cleaning crew sprucing up the place after I left the night before.

I started my coffee pot and sat down, hearing Rebecca come in a few minutes later and drop off my interviewee for the day. Rebecca came with the position. I hadn't hired her, and probably wouldn't have if it'd been up to me.

She rubbed me the wrong way, and I pretended not to notice the way she trailed her finger against the top of her dress and gave me eyes.

"Good morning, Mr. Archer," she said, walking over in ten-inch heels to pour me some coffee.

I didn't look up from the folder of Johnathon Thomas. "Good morning."

She sat down my mug and hugged her clipboard to her chest until I glanced up at her. Her makeup was perfect, her red painted lips pulled into a smirk. "So, yesterday—that girl—she was a hot mess, huh?"

I watched Rebecca eye her long dress for quite some time before I walked down to greet her. Lidia was the only girl she'd given me to interview from the stack of applications. She didn't want any competition.

I didn't respond and pointed toward the door. I caught her eye roll as she walked out and down the stairs. My phone rang a few moments later and I answered, "Hello."

"Jace," my grandfather's voice boomed. "Good morning. You at the office?"

I straightened even though he wasn't there and fixed my tie. "Yes Sir, been here since six thirty."

"Hmm," he said, never impressed. "The reason I'm calling is because I need to speak to you about our contract."

I furrowed my brow and opened my laptop. "What about it?"

Grandfather stayed quiet for a while and then cleared his throat. "You know the speculations that were made when you took this job nearly eight years ago."

I opened my email and started scanning them for importance and weeding out the trash. "I've been keeping up with appearances for publicity. I have a huge social planned for the end of the month and an artist is hosting an exhibition this coming Friday night—"

"Your brother, Seth, is getting married son. I know you received the invitation. That's what I'm talking about."

My eyes fell to the silver lined invitation that'd taken residence on my desk for the past two weeks. I'd glanced over it once, not caring that he was getting married—the dirty little …

I sighed and ran my palm over my face to calm myself. I loved my brother, and at one time in our lives, we were close, but he'd changed over the years. The family money went to his head years ago when he realized he could get under any skirt by using it.

Married, huh. To whom? A twenty-year-old college girl looking for a free ride into the Houston social circle. I didn't care about him getting married any more than I cared—the contract.

Realization washed over me in one heated moment. Nerves skated down my back and tied my tongue. It'd been eight years since I signed the contract with my grandfather, and it'd given me eight year to forget all the ridiculous speculations.

Married before thirty-five rolled over my mind, burying its own grave. I hadn't had time to date seriously. I invited a couple of pretty girls to different social events, but never really dated them. None of them held my interest.

"Son, are you there?" Grandfather said. "Did you hear me—"

"I heard you," I said, leaning back in my chair and twirling around to get a good look at the view of the bustling traffic beneath me. It might be one of my last times to sit in this desk.

Because I turned thirty-five in six months, and I hadn't been on a real date in … I couldn't remember how many years.

"I haven't seen you with anyone lately. Did you forget what I asked of you?"

Yes, yes I had. Or maybe I'd hoped he was joking—halfheartedly—and wouldn't enforce that part of the contract on me. Married? What was it to him anyway? Couldn't I be a better owner without any other responsibilities?

"I didn't forget," I said. "Just—"

Grandfather sighed. "Just didn't think I was serious, huh? I'm serious, son. If you don't get married by then I'm going to have to give the spot to Seth."

Red dotted my eyes and I stood suddenly, running a palm through my hair. I felt the urge to kick something but calmed myself and shoved my spare hand into the depth of my pocket.

"Grandfather, I don’t have time to date. I've been busy running the business, you of all people should know how much time it takes—"

"Exactly, son," he said, exasperated. "I put that into the contract because I didn't want you to turn out like me. I'm eighty something years old, and I've only spent thirty years with your grandma before she passed. I married late, had children late, and missed many things because of my age that I didn't want to. I don't want that for you. So … who are you dating?"

I opened my mouth to lie but shut it. I wasn't a liar, and I wasn't going to lie to this old man. I braced my palm against the center of my forehead and slid it back over my raven-colored hair.

"No one."

He went silent and I heard clicking and moving around on the other end of the phone. "You turn thirty-five in six months," he said matter-of-factly.

I rocked back on my heels, feeling the urge to hang up and check my emails. So much work to do. "I do."

"Well," he cleared his throat. "You better get busy then. I'll see you at Seth's wedding in a couple of months."

He hung up. A nervous chuckle left my lips as I imagined Seth running this business by himself. He couldn't keep his goldfish alive for more than two weeks in college, what would he do with the art gallery?

My finger hovered over grandfather's name in my contact log as I debated calling and begging for more time. However, I knew my grandfather was stern and matter-of-fact. He'd been that way my entire life.

When Dad turned down this position the year I was born, and turned to piolet school, it'd crushed him. He wanted this to stay in the Archer family, and he got that with me.

But at what expense? A forced marriage that would end in divorce. "God," I groaned, rubbing my palms over my eyes. "I don't have time for this."

Rebecca's voice came over the speaker. "Mr. Johnathon Thomas is here for his interview." She had that sweet tone in her voice that told me he was attractive.

"Send him up," I sighed, and plopped down in my chair.

My mind raced over what to do. Johnathon walked in with a strut, hands shoved down into his pocket and a golden boy smile. He offered me a handshake that I took, trying my best to seem interested.

Why am I holding this interview for an assistant if I wasn't going to be here much longer? I pulled up my laptop and opened up his file.

"It's so nice to meet you," he said. "When your brother told me about the position—"

"My brother?" I asked. "Seth told you about this position?"

He beamed as if I'd be proud that he knew my brother. "Yes, Sir. I went to college with him. We were in the same frat together."

My interest rolled down the hill and into a sewer ditch. He lost me at Seth. I tried to maintain my focus. "Tell me about you."

I opened his folder, but my gaze landed on Lidia Lambert's sitting on the desk beside him like a huge neon flag. I'd read something in her file that caught my attention. She worked her way through college and had student loan debt she wanted to hurry and pay off.

Which wasn't something you put under reasons why you need a job in the first place—but after meeting her—I realized why she put it. She couldn’t stop her mouth from moving.

Student loan debt danced in my mind. She needed this job—badly. She needed it so bad she'd do whatever it took to—

I stood abruptly, desperation filled my stomach and a proposition formed. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I'm not feeling well. I'll give you a call back if I'm interested, okay?"

He tilted his head as if it would help him understand better, but after a few moments of staring at one another, he stood and walked out without another word. A definite no.

I grabbed my phone, found her number and called it. It went straight to voicemail, and I clenched my fist into a tight ball on my desk. What am I doing?

I glanced around at my office and sighed. Desperate, indeed. "Lidia Lambert, this is Jace Archer. Please come in today at twelve for a second interview. See you soon."

I pressed the end button and glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen. I had a little over two hours to get myself together. I needed this girl as my assistant as I needed a bullet to my head.

However, if that bullet held my job position on the other side … a bullet to the head it was. I gulped down my pride and sighed.

"What am I doing?" I asked no one.