I finish my sandwich, wipe my mouth with a napkin, and tuck my dad’s photo back into its hiding place. For a second, I consider googling “how to act normal around your dead dad’s lawyers,” but I suspect the internet doesn’t have answers for that.
Instead, I stand, rinse my coffee mug, and face my own reflection in the microwave’s stainless steel. I practice a neutral smile, one that doesn’t betray the fact that I just had an erotic fantasy about my enemies. I fail.
Whatever. I’ll fake it till I make it.
When I return to my desk, Shay gives me a secret smile, but doesn’t say anything. The rest of the afternoon is a blur of orientation packets and getting lost in the building’s labyrinthine corridors. All the while, the memory of the partners’ faces hovers in the back of my mind, mixing with guilt and curiosity in equal measure.
I’m not sure if I’m in more danger of getting fired, or getting seduced. Maybe both.
Either way, I’m not backing down.
The restof the day is a blur of admin hell: endless onboarding videos, a pop quiz on harassment policy, and sorting documents that seem to multiply when I’m not looking. I’d die of boredom if not for the fear that at any moment I’ll screw up and get bounced before I’ve even gotten access to the good stuff.
I’m organizing a stack of litigation binders by color (don’t ask, apparently it’s a “Jenkins thing”) when the woman herself materializes at the end of my desk, arms folded, lips pursed.
“Ms. Williams.”
My fingers freeze mid-fumble. “Yes, Ms. Jenkins?”
The older woman fixes me with the look you give someone who’s just double-dipped at a company party. “The partners would like to meet you in person tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. sharp.”
“Tomorrow?” My voice cracks, and I want to bite my own tongue off. “What for? I thought I was already hired.”
She tilts her head, arching a single, surgical brow. “You are, but Mr. Gibson and Mr. Grant always take a personal interest in new hires and like to meet everyone themselves. Don’t be late.”
I blink, caught. “How?—”
But she pivots and walks off before I can muster another question.
The moment she’s gone, I sag back in my chair, gripping the armrests to keep from spinning in circles. I stare at the screen but all I see are those two faces, side by side. The thought of being trapped in a room with both of them at once turns my stomach into a centrifuge. My fingers go clammy, and I have to wipe them on my skirt before they short out my keyboard.
Focus, Marnie. Remember the plan.
But the plan didn’t account for my body’s total mutiny. I can’t stop thinking about the way Brent and James’s eyes seemed to follow me even from a photograph, about the hush that fell over the hallway when their voices carried out of the conference room. I imagine what they’ll say when they see me. Will they remember my dad? Will they guess who I am before I even open my mouth?
The idea makes me break out in goosebumps, though whether it’s dread or something more primal I honestly can’t tell.
By five, I’m a wreck. I pack up my laptop and clutch my bag to my chest as I ride the elevator down, refusing to look at my reflection in the steel doors. In the lobby, Shay gives me a little salute and a knowing smile. “Tomorrow’s the big show, huh?”
I nod carefully. “The show?”
She shrugs.
“It happens to everyone. Don’t sweat it,” she says. “If they’re meeting you, it means you’re already halfway in.”
Her words make my pulse spike. “Halfway into what?”
She just grins. “You’ll see.”
What the fuck? Why does this woman seem to talk in riddles all the time? But I merely smile politely before saying goodbye, and then step onto the sidewalk outside. The evening sky has gone gunmetal, the city lights flicking on one by one. I breathe in exhaust and cold air, telling myself to chill, to not read into anything. But as I start down the block, every step makes my thighs brush together, makes me remember that odd, secret heat that started in the lunchroom when I saw the photographs of Brent Gibson and James Grant. What made them so magnetic? Of course, it’s their good looks, but it’s only a photo, for crying out loud. I haven’t even seen them in person.
Besides, I’m not here for that. I’m here to get my hands on the Williams files, to pull apart the puzzle of my father’s conviction, to find out who really screwed him over. But underneath it all, there’s a steady pulse that doesn’t care about justice, or revenge, or anything but the chance to be devoured by the two men who nearly ruined my life.
I walk faster, chasing the feeling all the way home.
Tomorrow, it’ll be me in the room with the wolves. And to be honest … I can’t wait to be eaten by two handsome, dominating alpha males.
2
