by Emily Bourne
Jazz
Happily After When, Volume 1
Emily Bourne
Published by Halo & Claws Publishing, 2020.
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
JAZZ
First edition. October 25, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Emily Bourne.
Written by Emily Bourne.
Also by Emily Bourne
Brittany & Charli Shorts
In Fiji
Happily After When
Jazz
Aria
In It Together
In A Mirror
In The Haze
Watch for more at Emily Bourne’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Emily Bourne
Dedication
Successor
Proposal
Guilt
Used
Digging
Dirty
Wronged
Forbidden
Circumstances
Abandon
Burden
Spoilt
Proud
Brave
Panicking
Help
Follow
Hiding
Family
Son
Donation
Comfortable
Date
Heart
Wished
Lucky
Safer
Dumb
Memory
Judgement
Blessing
Enough
Boys
Destroyed
Illusion
Accept
Run
Ambush
Approval
Embrace
Choice
Ready
Home
Worthy
Win
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Also By Emily Bourne
About the Author
What does happily ever after mean?
Does it exist?
Remember the victim.
Successor
“Jazz,” Mr Yuki says, raising his wine glass. “Congratulations on completing your university studies one year early. Darius, you must be very proud. Not only an academic success; your daughter also runs the most successful gym in your empire.”
Darius boasts a proud smile at the head of the long-stretched, oak dining table. “Indeed, Kourin. Jazz is an exceptional daughter.”
Jazz sinks into her plush dining chair at the opposite end to her father. The smiling faces on either side of the table turn her way, raising their glasses in a toast. She pinches her beige linen napkin and focuses on the flickering light of the tall centrepiece candles.
“Our Caden could have graduated early, too,” Mrs Walsh says zealously, wrapping her arm around her son’s. “But he’s there to learn as much as he can. Isn’t that right, Caden?”
“Yes, Mother,” Caden says, a twitch to his lips wanting to mock his mother’s devotion to him.
Jazz takes a small sip of red wine, aware this is a night to remember. The Yuki, Walsh, and Roth families sit in celebration of her. Knowing the ins and outs of these wealthy families, Jazz is mindful of motives to this dinner which have nothing to do with her. Even the mayor of Maiden City is here to butter up her father.
Sachi Yuki beams a cheery grin towards Jazz, and asks, “What do you plan to do now that you’re finished with university? Still run the gym?”
Jazz combs her fingers through her lush, raven hair, pushing it over her shoulder. “I’m studying for my masters.” She eyes the head of the table and smiles at her father. “Whilst moving into senior management.”
Darius grins and turns to Mayor Walsh. “My daughter has big dreams.”
Jazz’s fingers flex and her knuckles crack as her father smiles at Mayor Walsh’s laughter. My management is laughable?
“Ethan,” Mayor Walsh says, swishing his wine glass. “How did you go with the numbers I sent you?”
Ethan grins and nods to the Mayor. “Perfectly. Thank you, again.”
“Good, good. They always serve me well, especially in cleaning up this city,” Mayor Walsh slurs over his wine glass. “The crime coming out of The Limits is infecting all of Maiden City.”
“Are you still thinking of shutting that area down?” Mr Yuki asks.
“Someone has to do something about it,” Mayor Walsh says. “And seems I’m the man with that title.”
Caden Walsh groans and sits back in his chair. “Why don’t you just move the city limits, and then those people will officially not be your problem?”
“That’s one way to lose a lot of land, young man,” Mr Roth says with a mocking grin.
Caden smirks. “Whatever.”
“Enough business,” Mrs Walsh interjects.
“Here, here,” Mr Roth says. “None of that at the table.”
“Certainly,” Mayor Walsh says. “Darius, how’s the old ticker?”
Darius straightens his tie. “You know doctors, they like to load you up on pills.”
“So you’re doing ok?” Mrs Yuki asks, squeezing the hand of her daughter Sachi.
Jazz’s breathing falters as frown lines pull at her father’s face.
Darius brightens, looking kindly on Mrs Yuki. “I’m doing well, but it has come to the time that naming a successor is increasingly necessary.”
When her father came to this country from Persia, he had nothing to his name. His name meant nothing. He met David Roth at temple before either married. They encouraged each other to grow their businesses and were great companions. Jazz often wonders if Ethan sought her father’s mentorship because his business did the best out of the pair. Not that David Roth did poorly. The Roth Manor is two streets away from the Abadi Mansion in the prestigious area of Sovereign Hill.
Caden turns to Jazz, his eyebrows raised in interest. “Up for it?” he asks her.
Jazz is one to keep her cards close to her chest. Her eyes wander to Ethan. Her father’s mentee and her number one competition. She breathed a little easier when Ethan took over his father’s company last year. But Ethan is someone you can’t turn your back on.
“Eve,” Mrs Walsh says to Mrs Roth opposite her. “I hear you and David are going on another voyage.”
Mayor Walsh takes a large sip of wine, and adds, “Retirement treating you well, I see.”
“We can’t get enough of island-hopping,” Mrs Roth giggles, eyeing her husband.
David Roth smiles and nods. “It was the best timing for Ethan to take the reins at the company.”
Ethan stares at his dinner plate, nostrils flaring to suppress his disdain.
Jazz stares at the tension bulging in his eyes and tries to understand him. Ethan has everything she could ever want. He has control of his father’s company. His parents aren’t watching over every move he makes. They are jumping from one vacation to the next. Jazz has worked her entire life to get to where Ethan is. When she played with dolls as a child, she wasn’t homemaking; she was running a board of directors. The annoyance radiating off Ethan infuriates her.
Caden swipes his father’s wine glass while he’s distracted and slurps it back. He places the glass to its original position and shakes his head at Jazz.
“Jazz,” Sachi pipes up. “Can we go outside?”
Caden stands up, tossing his linen napkin on the table. “I’ll escort these ladies outside.”
Jazz stands and nods at her father. “Father, I trust it’s ok you excuse us from the table?”
Darius waves a hand. “Of course, my dear.”
As Caden and Sachi stand with her, Jazz eyes Ethan and asks, “Coming?”
Ethan smirks. “No. You kids have fun.”
Jazz frowns and controls her eyes not to roll. She and Caden are twenty, and Sachi is still in high school, so twenty-eight-year-old Ethan likes to act superior to them. Age doesn’t make you impressive, Jazz concludes.
Jazz stretches out her arm, welcoming Sachi to walk beside her. She rubs Sachi’s arm and they follow Caden through the lavish living area towards the ornately carved rear doors. They walk out to the marble-tiled pool decking, overlooking the infinity pool and immaculately landscaped gardens, illuminated by lighting hidden in the hedges.
As they take in the crisp night air and meander around the cushioned lounge seating, Jazz pulls out her phone and scrolls through her Collage feed. Thousands of hearts flood her notifications, and she ponders whether it’s the right time to post a new image. Maybe a Namaste yoga pose?
While her thumbs tap away, she glances at Caden and Sachi whispering together. Caden backs Sachi against a wall with his hand pressed by her face as he leans in with his trademark, charisma-oozing, smile.
Jazz watches Caden’s other hand slide around Sachi’s hip and pulls her closer to him.
“Caden,” Jazz says, slipping her phone in her pocket and marching towards them. “Ever hear of personal space?”
Caden pulls himself upright and drops his hands beside him. “Lighten up, Abadi. We’re just talking.”
Jazz clasps Sachi’s hand. “Talk with your mouth, not your hands.”
“Whatever,” Caden smirks.
“Hey, what was that remark between your father and Ethan?” Jazz asks him.
“What remark?” Caden asks.
“About numbers,” Jazz elaborates.
Caden shrugs. “Probably another mess to clean up. There’s always someone on Dad’s list who’ll fix something for a price.” Caden’s phone rings, and he pulls it from his trousers’ pocket. He grins and shows the girls the screen. “Nice, it’s Liz.”
Jazz rolls her eyes and suppresses her gag. Another one of his one-day romances.
Caden lifts his phone to his ear and begins his charm act, walking away from the girls toward a chair to recline in.
Jazz squeezes Sachi’s hand and meets her eyes. “Remember, you are in charge of your body. No one can touch you without your permission.”
Sachi touches her cheek bashfully. The rose in her cheeks highlights against the porcelain of her skin. “It was nothing, Jazz.”
“Nothing can turn into something. Be careful, Sachi. You’re only sixteen, and people will try to take advantage of your vulnerability. You need to be aware of your surroundings, and the people you let close.”
Sachi giggles nervously. “You sound paranoid.”
Jazz drops Sachi’s hand and smiles. “Maybe I am.”
Caden and Sachi return to their parents, ready to leave for the evening. Jazz peruses the dining table, and Ethan is missing. Her eyebrows raise as she notes her father’s absence.
She moves towards her father’s study, and an uneasy twinge cramps her stomach. She edges toward the closed double doors and holds a breath as she leans her ear in.
Footsteps sound from inside and she jumps backward with alarm. A handle turns, and one of the heavy mahogany doors pulls open. Her father walks Ethan out of his study, a hand placed on his back.
“Thank you, Darius,” Ethan says, extending his hand.
“Pleasure,” Darius says, shaking Ethan’s hand.
Ethan nods at Jazz. “Evening.”
“Goodbye,” she says warily, as Ethan walks past her down the hall. She looks at her father with puzzlement. “You and Ethan had a meeting?”
Her father clears his throat. He beckons her into his study. “Let’s talk.”
Jazz straightens her back and calmly walks into the study.
“I’ll see off our guests and be right back.”
“Shouldn’t I––” Jazz begins, but her father is already walking down the hall. She knows the Yukis and Walshs were already out the door, so she moves further into the study.
She sits on a high-backed leather armchair in front of her father’s desk. Why was he in a private meeting with Ethan?
Her eyes wander over the packed bookcases behind the expansive desk. To all the biographies of the world’s greatest thinkers, to the procedures her father built his business on. Her gaze lowers to the desktop, and a document folder steals her attention. Nothing exceptional about the folder except it lays askew on the desk. Her father would never leave something so out of place. It must be Ethan’s.
She stands and moves around the desk. Her hand tremors as she reaches for the folder.
“Ok,” her father says, clapping his hands together as he strides into the study.
She jumps away from the desk, tucking her hands behind her back, and tries to shake the deer-in-headlights look.
“I have something I want to discuss... Jazz? Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing,” she’s quick to reply. She slips around the desk to the armchair. “What do you need to tell me?”
Darius lets out a weighted sigh. He sits behind his desk and sets his palms on the folder. “Ethan pulled me aside.”
Jazz swallows uncomfortably, waiting for him to add more.
He lifts the folder. “This is his proposal to take over as CEO.”
“No!” it rushes out of her, loud and frantic.
Darius lifts a hand. “Jazz, please compose yourself.”
Jazz fixes her hair and settles in the chair. “Sorry, Father.”
“I know you’re working hard, studying to be my successor. You’re an Abadi. I want you as the head of the company. However, Ethan is the front runner. He’s already brought three big clients to the company. He’s proven his worth.” Darius wrings his hands and looks deep into Jazz’s eyes. “The board doesn’t have faith in you. You have a lot to prove.”
“How can they not have faith in me?” Jazz rubs her chest as every word she speaks weighs her down.
“You’re young and fresh out of university. I wish there was more time, but this is it,” her father says, low and slow. “Prove yourself, Jazz. The board meeting is in a week.”
Jazz stands and smooths her skirt. “Don’t worry, Father. I will be your successor.”
Proposal
JAZZ arches her back as she reclines on a leg press machine the next day. She lifts her phone high and tilts her face for the perfect angle. Snap.
Jazz pulls herself up and scrolls through the photos she took this morning. She needs the perfect image to gain maximum engagement. Not only does she run the best Ultimate ME gym in a prime Business District location, she is also head of social media marketing for the company.
She bounces off the machine, and scrolls through the stats of her Collage account on the walk to her office. She slides onto her desk chair and puts her phone down. The stark white walls of her office soothe her as she wakes her computer. Her business plan appears on the screen. The CEOship is her birthright. Ethan will not swoop in and steal it from her.
She is the Abadi heiress.
Her phone buzzes from the table. She groans as the screen illuminates with Ethan Calling.
“Speak of the devil,” Jazz says, lifting the phone. She hits answer. “Ethan. Hello.”
“Such a warm greeting,” Ethan replies with a hint of laughter to his words.
“I’m just busy running my company,” she bites back. “What can I do for you?”
“I think you mean running your site. You’re not CEO.”
“Yet.”
Ethan lets out a throaty laugh. “As much as I like a good dose of healthy competition, I was hoping we could work together
on this. Care to meet me for dinner tonight?”
“Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean work together? There can only be one CEO.” Jazz reclines on her chair and kicks her heels on the desk with a grin. “Unless you mean you want to help me become CEO?”
“Meet me for dinner. I’ll explain everything to you over cocktails.”
Drinks could make him talk too much and give me an advantage in the boardroom.
Jazz moves her feet off the desk and sits upright. She grabs a pen and sighs. “Ok, where am I meeting you?”
“Overity in the Night Club District.”
Gross. “Ok, I can be there at eight.”
“I’d prefer seven.”
“I don’t know about you, but I work for a living, so I can’t be at your beck and call.”
Ethan splutters a laugh. “How nicely passive aggressive of you, Jazz.”
“I thought you’d appreciate me speaking in your first language.”
“Keep that spirit for tonight. We have a lot to discuss.” And with that, he leaves Jazz with beeping of a disconnected call.
She drops her phone, wincing. “Goodbye to you, too.”
“Jazz,” says Marcus, a personal trainer, knocking on the doorframe of her office. “Can we talk for a minute?”
Jazz gestures to the chair opposite her desk. “The minute is all yours.”
He smiles nervously, moving to the chair. “Well, I might need more than a minute.”
She raises an eyebrow as he sits. “I don’t like the body language, Marcus. You’re not quitting, are you?”
Marcus slumps in the chair, exhaling a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. I’ve been offered this amazing opportunity to––”
“––No,” Jazz cuts him off. “No way.” She twirls her pen furiously. “What’s the monetary offer? We will match it. We can’t lose you.”
Marcus folds his arms across his torso. “It’s not about the money. There’s no room to grow here.”
“You’re second in command. I can’t promote you, or you’d have my position.”
“I have your job whenever you’re absent without notice,” Marcus continues, a sharp edge to his words. “I take on the work, come in early, all without notice. But what’s the reward?”