My chest aches, knowing that a bigger part of me than I’d like to admit, actually wanted to give into him. Was dying to give in to his demands. The reality of the situation is that I was lucky to make it out of his office by the skin of my teeth…and if he’d said one more thing, perhaps touched my arm…it all would have been over and I’d have crumbled before him.
I transfer to the green line on autopilot, headed back to my place in Allston. I have class later this afternoon. No way will I be able to concentrate. What am I going to tell everyone at work, anyway? I have to tell them the truth—that he offered, and I said no.
To calm myself, I imagine telling this story to my mom and dad. They’re the ones who raised me to live a life of service to others. We may not have had a ton of money, but we always give what we can to helping others. It’s how I was raised, and it’s the only way I know how to be.
Which makes Jackson Croft that much more confusing.
The thought of someone—especially someone so privileged—having zero interest in helping others, even so much as to write a freaking check, is totally foreign to me. I just don’t get it.
I get off the T at the Allston stop. There are hints of fall in the air, and I relish the crisp air on my cheeks—much better than the suffocating heat I was feeling in Jackson’s office.
As I head into my studio apartment in the back of a blue house on Greylock Road, I get the story straight in my head. I had a bold plan to ask a huge corporate boss-guy for a donation and he turned me down. That’s one part of the story, the one I’ll tell to my co-workers. The other part of the story is that I met one of the sexiest, most ridiculously attractive men I have ever seen in my life.
The way he acted repulsed me. The way he looked drove me insane in a completely different way.
I sigh with relief as I kick off my shoes. Stupid blister. As I hunt for Band-Aids, my phone buzzes. It’s Jules from work, no doubt wanting every detail of the meeting. I had gone in with total pipe dreams of securing a donation and gradually getting Jackson—and his money—more involved in CEF, but it backfired in a humiliating way.
“Hey, Jules,” I answer. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for blowing it so badly. If things had at least gone differently—like, if Jackson Croft had said he’d think about donating to such a worthwhile cause but needed to see more research, I could have brought in Jules to close the deal.
But now the deal is dead before anyone else had a chance at it. That’s my big mistake—going for such a big prospect with no backup.
“So?” Jules asks. “You’re on speaker. Talk.”
“Tell us!” voices say in the background, and there’s laughter. My stomach churns. It’s a small office but it sounds like most of the staff is there. Did they really think I was going to pull it off? Get Jackson Croft of Croft International to give money to our little charity?
“There’s not much to say,” I offer lamely.
“We need to know all about it,” she says.
“I’m just,” I begin, not knowing how to tell them all, where to begin. My mind has gone suddenly blank. “I don’t know what happened.”
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Jules says. “Because whatever you did needs to be standard operating procedure from now on. You’ll have to train the interns on how to ask for donations.”
“And get the big ones!” someone calls in the background.
I pause, confused. “Wait…” My mind is racing.
“So tell us how you did it,” Jules says. Why does her voice sound upbeat instead of pissed off to the point of terminating me?
Cautiously I say, “Did what?”
“You tease,” Jules laughs, and I hear a chorus of whoops in the background. “How did you get Jackson Croft to give the single biggest donation in CEF’s history? Emily, you’re amazing!”
“Way to go, Em!” someone else cheers.
I slowly lower myself to my threadbare couch. “Wait a minute. He actually did it? Jackson Croft donated?”
“One hundred thousand dollars,” Jules says to more cheers. “We have to know—how did you convince him?”
I feel light headed. How did I do it? That’s a great question that I can’t answer.
“So?” Jules prompts.
She needs something from me, and I’m certainly not going to tell her or anyone else about Jackson’s little proposal, even if I did turn it down. Now that he’s donated the money, the last thing I need is for people to think that anything untoward happened between us.
It’s in everyone’s interest—donor and recipient—to present a clean, professional and united front.
“I just,” I begin, thinking. “You know, I gave the stats like you said. I mean, who can say no to kids, right?”
My brow is sweaty and I gulp anxiously. I feel hot, suddenly.
“I’m sure there was more to than that,” Jules says, “but whatever you did, it’s amazing. Truly, Emily. We’re so proud of you.”
“And excited about the money!” someone else cheers.
“Thanks, guys,” I say. “I’ll see you in the office.”
As we get off the phone, I hear more shouted congratulations and then I’m alone with just my racing thoughts.
Why did he do it?
I think back to our conversation and wonder if it was something specific that I said that made him change his mind. Or maybe he just regretted cornering me, had a change of heart.
Whatever it was that caused him to donate, the right thing to do is to call him and thank him. I can just leave a message with Sandra. I don’t want to speak to him directly, just hearing his voice makes my stomach flutter.
What is it with this guy and the spell he puts on me?
I quickly pick up my phone and call the number I have in my phone.
“Jackson Croft’s office.”
“Hi, um, Sandra? It’s Emily Brown, from earlier,” I begin, nervous already, even though it’s only a phone call. “Could you leave a message for Mr. Croft for me?” I continue, my throat raspy with emotion. “Tell him I called to say thank you for the very generous donation he gave to the Children’s Education Fund? Tell him it’s really going to do a lot of good for a lot of kids, and we really appreciate it.” A bit of a shaky voice but I got it out, thank God.
“One moment, please,” Sandra says. I guess I should have paused long enough for her to write it all down. I wait quietly while she jots down the message.
I hear a click on the line, and before I can wonder if I’ve been disconnected, that smooth deep voice that’s already doing on number on my stomach says, “Emily Brown. Hello, again.”
“Mr. Croft,” I stumble. That sneaky Sandra! She could have given me a heads up. “I’m sorry to disturb you, I just…”
“If you were disturbing me, I wouldn’t have picked up,” Jackson informs me.
“Right, okay. Um, I just, I left a message with Sandra.”
“I’m here now. Tell me,” he says.
I take a breath. I’m not letting this guy get to me because that’s totally ridiculous. He’s just a man. A totally gorgeous man who makes me forget my name, but still. Get it together. “Thank you,” I say. “That’s what I was calling to say. Thank you—from the Children’s Education Fund—for the donation. It’s really…it’s huge. It’s really big and we’re so grateful at such a large gift…”