Chapter Three
LIAM DIDN’Twant to go to work the next morning. For the past decade he’d beenhungryto be at the office, showing up before anyone else and usually staying until only a skeleton crew remained. The firm’s work space was designed to inspire the architects who spent time in it, and it was open, bright and airy, modern and sophisticated, and Liam had a place there. A place ofhonor. He’d worked hard, he’d been rewarded, and he belonged.
But now?
Maybe it was partly because of running into Ben. So many unresolved issues—but, no, they’d been resolved. Ben had dumped him. Liam had deserved it. There was nothing unresolved about that, other than Liam’s recurrent suspicion that he’d messed up the best relationship he was ever likely to have. But all that had been yearsago.
No, he was upset about his job, now. Hiscareer.
He knew he was being melodramatic. He was healthy, he hadn’t been caught embezzling or anything; he was fine. He just hadn’t been chosen for a project. There were any number of reasons why that might have happened, and very few of them were anything to worry about. Liam would sit down with Tristan, get an explanation, and move on. Hell, maybeit was actually agoodthing. Maybe there was an even bigger project, more prestigious, more challenging, right around the corner, and Tristan had wanted to make sure Liam was free to take it on.
But even that optimistic possibility wasn’t enough to put a bounce in his step as he approached the front doors of the office. He forced himself to smile, though—he’d be damned if he’d let them see himlooking discouraged—and jogged up the stairs from the street. Purposeful, focused—that was the image he wanted to project.
And the first person he saw was Allison Sutcliffe, the bitch—no, don’t use that word, you’re not a caveman—theassholewho’d stolen the project from him. Her smile was bright and seemed totally genuine.
“Liam! Good to see you. I’m really looking forward to working together.I set a meeting for the team at ten this morning, but I’d like it if you and I could get together before that to—” She stopped, clearly reacting to the expression on his face. “Oh, shit. Tristan hasn’t talked to you yet. I thought he was going to—” She stopped again, and now her smile seemed more forced. “Sorry. I jumped the gun. Never mind.”
“Tristan wants us to work together?” Liam asked. Itmade sense, except thatAllisonhad been announced as the project lead. Which would make Liam her fucking assistant? Hell, no, that was asking too much. “I’d better give him a call.”
“Yeah, of course. Sorry, you should hear it from him, obviously.”
Obviously. Because it was bad news. Essentially a demotion. What the hell was going on? What had Liam done to deserve this?
“Oh, here he is,” Allisonsaid, her gaze focused behind Liam, toward the front doors. “Wow, I didn’t know he was even capable of being conscious this early.”
The last was said in a lower voice, an almost conspiratorial whisper. It was the kind of comment that would have been totally appropriate, totally expected between them prior to the announcement, but now? The familiarity, the implication that they were somehow stillon the same team? It made the muscles of Liam’s shoulders clench.
Liam shifted so he was looking at Tristan, and the older man glanced from one face to the other before he said, “I see I’m a bit late. Sorry, Liam, I was going to speak to you yesterday but you didn’t come back to the office. I thought I’d be able to catch you this morning.”
“Timing aside,” Liam said, “what’s going on?”
And onegood thing about Tristan was that he didn’t mince words. “I want you to work on the project with Allison. She could use someone with your experience.”
Use someone. Liam was just there to be used. He was a tool in the workbox of the true artist. It was unthinkable, unbearable. “Oh. Actually—I was planning to speak to you today as well. About something different.”Hold it together, save face, don’tcrack. “Obviously I want to be a team player. I remember the first time I was lead on a project—it was when you were”—going through that messy divorce, and I stepped in and saved your reputation, do you remember that?—“preoccupied elsewhere, and I definitely had to scramble a bit. It was a challenge.” He found himself relaxing a little. There was something kind of liberating about this feeling,like he was disconnected from his career, his emotions—his reality. But still able to get some jabs in. “I learned a lot, though, Allison. I think it would be really valuable for you to have that kind of experience, that sink-or-swim opportunity, if you’re up for it. As I said, I’m a team player. If you need the help, I’ll certainly put my own ideas aside. But for your own sake—oh. Unless Tristan—”
He turned to look at the older man. “Sorry. Possibly this is why you wanted to have the conversation in private. But—if you’re not sure Allison’s up to it? If you have some doubts?”Then you shouldn’t have put her in charge of the project when you’ve got someone totally competent standing right beside you!“Well. Sure, yeah. If help is needed, I can help. The most important thing is the project,obviously. We can’t betray a client’s faith in us just to manufacture an employee growth opportunity.” He smiled benignly.
“I don’t think I need the help,” Allison said. Her voice was icy now. Good. No more fake friendship, no more casual jokes. “Tristan was trying to find a way to keep you busy, I think.”
“Let’s not do this,” Tristan said firmly. “Liam, you said you had ideas of your own. Anythingyou’re ready to bring to the table?”
And the calm, floating sensation disappeared completely. He’d done a good job of bringing business to the firm in the past, and he was sure he’d bring more in the future, but right then he had nothing more than a few vague hints and jovial, empty expressions of interest.Shit, shit, shit.“Actually,” he heard himself say, “I was looking at a few personal projects.You know how it is, the collection of smaller jobs that people want you to take on, the things that just get shoved aside and piled up?” The projects he reliably and repeatedly refused to adopt because he didn’t want to get bogged down in petty, trivial designs. “I was thinking about taking some time to work through that backlog. A sabbatical, maybe we could call it?”
Tristan’s expression wasunreadable. “Come into my office,” he said. Sure, the humiliation with Allison could be played out in a public space, but now that Liam was trying to reclaim some power—even if he was doing it with totally imaginary projects—they needed to be in private.
But Tristan was the boss, so Liam trailed after him around the reception desk and into the glass-walled space that was the only private officein the whole firm. Tristan shrugged out of his light coat and tossed it casually on the back of the leather sofa, then perched on the stool by his drafting table. He wasn’t in the big leather chair behind his desk, so this was supposed to be a casual chat, not a major meeting.
Liam, of course, was left with the sofa, which put him at least a foot lower than Tristan. Supplicant and benefactor.Lovely.
Tristan looked down and smiled gently at Liam. “Do you want to know why I didn’t choose you to lead the Taybec Briggs project?”
And suddenly Liamdidn’twant to know. He didn’t want to discuss Tristan’s view of his failings, didn’t want to be analyzed and poked apart. But that wasn’t the proper answer, of course. “If there’s something you think I should know,” he said, “I guess I shouldhear it.”
Tristan was quiet for a moment, then said, “What’s your passion, Liam?”
What a peculiar question. “I want to create practical art,” he started, but Tristan waved a hand impatiently.
“Not a regurgitation of the firm’s promotional materials. I want to knowyourpassion. What excites you? What do youneedin your life?”
