"Nothing."
"No, you're giving me that look. The same one you gave me before I told you and Dad I was doing my MBA, like you already knew what I was going to do," I said. I might have been the managing partner but Max still had the big brother trump card.
He pulled his arms behind his back, flexing muscles. "Really? You want to know what I think?"
"Yeah. I do."
"It might freak you the fuck out."
"It won't."
He shrugged. "I think Vanessa's the real deal for you. She's your Marie." The referral to our step-mother threw me back. After our mum died, Dad was left in a mess with no idea how to look after four children and very little desire to either. Then he'd met Marie, an Irish-American lawyer who ran her family's New York firm and she gave him emergency resuscitation, bringing him back to life. He idolized her, as did we, and that was why none of us, especially myself, Max and Claire, had ever had a truly serious relationship: we wanted what they had.
"Fuck." I pulled my hair out of its knot.
"Wish you'd get that cut," Max said, scowling. "Fucking douche hair."
I looked up at him, trying not to laugh at what I was about to say, knowing the shit he was going to give me. "Vanessa likes it."
He shook his head. "You want me to add to my statement?"
"What's Claire said about it – Vanessa, not my hair." I had no doubt that they had discussed it.
"Honestly, not a great deal as she's heading down the rabbit hole into Wonderland with the Worthington case, but she agrees. And she likes Vanessa, but she's worried that you will let things happen too fast," Max said. "Let's get together, the three of us, for dinner on Wednesday. We haven't done that for a while."
"Done," I said, although I was already thinking about Vanessa that evening and what she would do, Claire's concerns ringing in my ears like a thudding bell. "I'm going to see if Van wants a coffee."
"Good plan," Max said, turning back to his computer.
I paused, curious and concerned. "How are you?" I asked. He was everybody's rock - except his secretary's: he was her nightmare – and rarely showed what he was feeling.
"Busy." He didn't want to speak. I knew there was something occurring in the background and had my suspicions, as did Vanessa.
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"No. Not even casually."
"What about your professors?" It was rare for Max to not have a fuck buddy, who we had nicknamed the professors as so many of them worked at the universities or were Ph.D. students.
"No one. My right hand and Pornhub."
I stood up, knowing that was the end of the conversation. "I won't suggest a double date then."
He smiled vacantly, his mind back on his work. I left him to it, seeking out Vanessa and wondering if I was deeper in with her than I thought.
I paused outside the door of the office she used with Kirsty, raised voices loud enough to hear.
"I disagree. That isn't the sort of image Jackson told me we were trying to put out there. If these are going in magazines it needs to be more vibrant, like what Pritchards have done. I don't see why your company's doing this anyway. Are you sure Jackson's not just saying yes to your ideas because you're fucking him? Is that what you do with all your clients?"
I decided that it was the right moment to walk in.
Kirsty was standing up, pulling an A1 sized advert from the wall. Vanessa was sitting back in a chair, saying nothing, the adverts that had been designed for the tube and business magazines spread out on the table. I'd already approved them, along with Max, when we'd met with her and Josh the previous Friday. We'd also had the photos to view from the magazine interview we'd done. Seph had been like a fucking kid in a sweet shop, trying on different suits and jackets and making the most of the mirror. Unfortunately, he'd been told by the photographer he was a 'natural', which had made Max and I piss our sides, but that hadn't stopped him from still talking about it. One of Vanessa's colleagues had suggested making a change to the ads and using some of the photos, the arty ones with our faces in profile or the ones where you could see our backs. They were now pinned to walls of the office, probably for us to look at and approve or otherwise later.
"Is there a problem, Kirsty?" HR had spoken to her about her reference. She'd said it was written by someone who worked at her previous firm who'd had a falling out with them, hence the confusion. I wasn't convinced.
"No. I was just expressing how I thought these ads weren't right for us. There are much better pictures and with a splash of color they'd stand out," Kirsty said, smiling at me and pushing her chest forward.
"We tried that. Cole Henderson had some put together that were similar in design to Pritchards but Max and I decided against them as they were too similar and these were more what we were looking for. I'm disappointed too that you think I'm the type of boss who would let their relationship impact on their business. Maybe I'm not the sort of person you should be working for if you think that badly of me," I kept my voice calm and unemotional, no edge to be heard.
