Vanessa doesn't speak until we're in the entrance vestibule, away from curious ears.
"You look good," she says, turning to face me, her soft jasmine perfume wrapping around me. "Success suits you."
I barely blink at her. “What do you want, Vanessa?"
"I told you. A partnership—"
"Bullshit. You could have sent that proposal through official channels. Why are you really here?"
Her smile fades slightly. "I heard a rumor."
"About?"
"About you being involved with an employee. A young employee." Her eyes search my face. "That's not like you, Donovan. You've always been so careful about mixing business and pleasure."
My jaw tightens. "My personal life is none of your concern."
"It is if it affects our potential partnership. Titan's going public in six weeks. Any hint of scandal could tank the IPO." She steps closer, voice dropping. "Is it true? Are you sleeping with someone who works for you?"
"Again—none of your concern."
"So it is true." She laughs, but it sounds brittle. "My God. Are you having a midlife crisis? Isthat what this is? Because Donovan, sleeping with an employee half your age is not going to fill whatever void you're trying to fill."
"She's not half my age. And this conversation is over." I turn toward the exit.
"I'm just trying to help," Vanessa calls after me. "I remember what it's like when you get fixated on something. You dive in completely, consequences be damned. But this? This is going to blow up in your face."
I stop, turning back. "Like our relationship blew up? How are Andrew and Danielle, by the way?
She flinches. "That was different."
"How?"
Her voice softens, becomes almost sympathetic. "I'm not saying it was right. But I'm also not wrong about you. You're married to your work. You always have been. And this girl—this employee—she's going to figure that out eventually. Just like I did."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" She tilts her head. "How many late nights at the office? How many moments where she needed you and you weren't there because Titan came first?"
Vanessa sees the answer on my face.
"That's what I thought." She picks up her handbag from where she set it on the console. "I hope the partnership works out. Your team can reach me through Michael. And Donovan?" She pauses at the door. "Be careful. Girls that young? They want attention, commitment, time. All the things you're incapable of giving. I’d tell you ‘good luck’,” her blue eyes thin, “but we both know it's going to end badly."
“We’ll just find out then, won’t we?”
I open the door for her to exit, and instead of leaving, she reaches up and fixes my collar, her red nails lightly skimming across my neck.
I grab her wrist—tightly, and she smiles.
The pulse of her skin beats against my palm, as stand outside the restaurant's front door on 53rd Street—
Andsee her.
Emma.
Standing on the sidewalk fifty feet away with Carmen, both of them holding to-go salads, clearly on a lunch break.
Emma looks up, and I instantly see what she sees.
