Secrets of a Shy Socialite by Wendy S. Marcus Page B

tone. But the only things he cared about were his company’s bottom line and himself.
    “Let’s go.” Justin put his arm around Jena’s shoulders and guided her to the car. Before getting in she looked over at Jerry and said, “I’ll think about Thomas.”
    Oh no she wouldn’t.
    “Thank you,” Jerry said. “Come back any time, Jena.” He glared at Justin. “You and my nieces are always welcome.”
    The ride back to the condo was a quiet one and Justin used the time to think. And come to the conclusion, if Jerry acted as Jena’s business manager, paying all her bills and managing her money, there was the possibility she didn’t know how to do either on her own, which would explain the uneasy tension emanating from her side of the car.
    Jena spent the trip staring out the window, maintaining a tight grip on her financial data like someone might try to wrestle it from her at any moment. Which was kind of disconcerting since the only other person in the car capable of wrestling was him.
    He parked in a guest spot close to the front door, turned off his SUV and shifted in his seat to face her. “You okay?”
    She just sat there, gazing out the window, looking lost and in no apparent hurry to exit, her demeanor not that of someone he’d identify as okay. But she nodded in response to his question.
    “I’m not sure if you’re aware,” he said. “But in addition to my undergraduate degree in criminal justice, I minored in finance. And I worked at my dad’s investment firm every summer from the time I turned sixteen until I graduated college. I’d be happy to take a look at everything Jerry gave you and help you make sense of it,” he offered, half on edge, waiting to see if she’d lash out at being insulted by him thinking she didn’t know how to manage her money when she did.
    Instead of a reply, she reached up to dab at the corner of her eye with her knuckle and Justin wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay. That she could count on him to help her and take care of her.
    Whoa. That came out of nowhere. But there was something about her, a naiveté long worn off in the women he dated, that made him want to be the man to teach her and tend to her, placing him in unfamiliar territory.
    “Thank you,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear her. She inhaled a deep breath, let it out then turned to look at him. Light from the outside fixtures reflected in her watery eyes. “It’s not that I’m dumb or lazy. It’s the way I grew up,” Jena explained, lowering the folder to her lap.
    “While Jaci fought for independence I was content to be taken care of. I chose to blindly trust Jerald to manage my money. I chose to leave rather than fight him for control. But I have worked from the age of thirteen, managing the house and as a nurse for my mom, even while I went to college. After she passed away, I took on the role of Jerald’s social secretary full time. Yet I never received a formal paycheck. Jerald made sure there was cash in the safe in his office, and I took what I needed when I needed it. My credit card bills came to the house and he paid them when he paid all the other bills. If I had to go somewhere there was always a car and driver waiting to take me.”
    She looked down and fiddled with the elastic band holding the folder together. “And now I’m a twenty-four-year old mother of two who can plan a dinner party for fourteen with two hours’ notice, coordinate an exquisite gala for five hundred on a strict budget, and manage a staff of thirty-six, half of whom only speak Spanish, but I can’t drive, I have no idea how much money I have aside from the two hundred thirty-six dollars in the envelope in my dresser drawer, and I don’t know the first thing about paying bills or writing checks.”
    Justin reached out to take her cool hand into his. He squeezed it. “I promise you, by the end of the weekend, you will have your bills sorted and paid, you will know