Treasure Your Love

By: J.C Reed


Chapter 1

MAYFIELD REALTIES WAS situated on the sixtieth floor of Trump Tower in one of the most popular business districts of New York City. I was standing in front of the large windows in my new office, watching the busy street below. Hundreds of people passing by, barely acknowledging each other. Soon forgotten. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, something was always happening. I could feel their rush of excitement, the dread, the stress, the anticipation, and their uncertainty whether a particular day would turn into an episode of a comedy, a tragedy, or anything in between. I liked the idea of them chasing their dreams and their futures. Just the way I had once been. Ever since I was hired by Jett Mayfield, I had entered a whirlwind of chaos. I had met the man of my dreams in the city of my dreams. New York, the city that never sleeps, was my home; Jett was the man I wanted to be with, and while everything seemed perfect, I felt something was missing: the answers to my questions about the Lucazzone estate I was about to inherit. Even though I had promised Jett I’d stay in NY with him, because it was the only way he could protect me from them, I felt no peace knowing that people were after me.

A soft knock on the door made me flinch. A second later, Emma’s head appeared in the doorway. Her cagey glance told me she hadn’t yet fully digested the fact that I had been promoted from mere assistant to a higher position than hers. We had been close to becoming friends when I started working at Mayfield Realties. Now she was distancing herself, which I attributed to my change in position. The past two weeks she had been eyeing me with suspicion, her previous friendliness replaced by badly disguised arrogance.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, Brooke?” Her voice was cold and sarcastic as her glance swept over me standing at the window. She was holding a huge bouquet of red roses decorated with pearls in between their velvet petals. I gaped at the rich burgundy color and the exquisite perfection of the petals.

She placed the rose bouquet on my desk. “Mr. Mayfield asked me to personally take these to you.”

Emphasis on “personally,” as if the word on its own conveyed a secret meaning.

I felt myself blushing at hearing Jett’s name.

I wondered if she knew I was dating the CEO of Mayfield Realties. As if sensing my thoughts, she turned, her light blue eyes piercing through me with disdain and something else.


Pure, undiluted envy.

The kind that could turn melting lava into ice. If looks could kill.

I groaned inwardly. Of course Emma knew. She wasn’t stupid, just like the rest of the company’s NY headquarters. In the last two weeks, Jett and I had tried to keep our contact at work limited to a strictly professional level, but of course there were subtle signs: the way he touched the small of my back when he led me out of the room or the way his fingertips grazed my arm too long whenever he tried to get my attention during a meeting. Or maybe it was the way we had been sitting together—too close, too intimate—my frantic heart threatening to burst out of my chest with each beat. Surely, if I could hear it, then others might as well.

“Thanks,” I said, and watched her leave. The door closed behind her, and I was alone again. I retrieved the card tucked in between the roses, and opened it, my glance sweeping over Jett’s harried handwriting.

For my beautiful, pregnant girlfriend,


P.s. Thanks for the wild ride yesterday.

I smiled and turned the card around.

I’m in my office. We have a deal to go over.

Join me if you’re not too busy.

Ever since starting this position, Jett had involved me in various company deals, telling me he trusted my judgment. I had learned the ins and outs of his company, the projects they had been working on, dealing with the top clients and seeking out the most desirable properties. So, naturally, when Jett inquired if I wanted to go over a new deal, I was ready to jump at the opportunity. Not only did I enjoy working with him, to me this was another excuse to see him.

It had been hours since I last saw him, and already I missed him like crazy. Big needy girlfriend alert, but I couldn’t help it. I fished my mirror and lipstick out of my handbag to fix my makeup, and tucked a few stray strands of hair out of my face. Happy with the result, I grabbed my smartphone and acquisitions folder, and left my office. The folder contained all my research, notes on past and current deals, my schedule, and daily to-do list—in case Jett needed anything. I carried it with me at all times, not least because Jett wasn’t known for his patience. My stomach twisted into knots, and my knees began to shake with apprehension as I knocked on his door.

“Yeah,” his deep voice called out, betraying his irritation the way it always did at work. I had yet to get used to his briskness and one-syllable commands.

I opened his door and stepped in, catching my breath. He was sitting in his leather chair, his dark hair framing his face, the newspaper in his hands hiding his green eyes. His jacket was thrown carelessly on a visitor chair, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. His shirt clung to his broad chest, leaving little to the imagination.

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