As I sink into Fiona’s, well,mydesk chair, I can feel Pierce’s eyes on me through the glass walls. I resist the urge to bang my head against the keyboard, if only because I’m pretty sure breaking company equipment would be a terrible addition to what is rapidly becoming the worst first day in employment history.
My phone buzzes with a text from Alli.
Alli:
How’s it going? Any disasters yet?
I look at the message, then glance behind me at Pierce. He’s staring at his paperwork with rigid focus.
Thatcher:
Remember how you said I’d need wine tonight?
We’re going to need more bottles. All the bottles. And possibly a time machine.
Through the glass, I watch Pierce straighten his tie, that same gesture from the wedding night, and wonder if it’s too early to update my résumé.
4
PIERCE
I stareat the reports I’ve been working on for weeks like I’m about to discover the solution to world hunger through VSE’s financials.
Don’t look up, Pierce.
My vision blurs as I stare at my monitor, struggling to focus on anything except the impossible fact that my new assistant is the same man who made me forget myself in a bathroom at Lior’s wedding six months ago.
The same man who has returned to my mind any time it’s not busy with work or trying to avoid my family.
Thatcher Edward Charles III
My new personal assistant. The man from the bathroom.
My fingers tighten around my pen until the metal digs into my palm.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Noah did this on purpose. After all, he doesn’t work for VSE, so, apart from being married to Lior, what business does he have influencing who gets to be hired by the company?
But when Thatcher crossed the boundary between the garden and the house with those two champagne glasses, myeyes were on the happy couple. So there’s no way Noah or Lior knows about what happened that night.
Thatcher pulls a collection of sticky notes and pens from his bag and arranges them in a rainbow gradient. The sight sends an unwanted shiver down my spine as I remember those same hands moving with a similar purpose across my?—
No!
I force my attention back to the reports, but the numbers might as well be hieroglyphics. My tie feels too tight, my collar a noose.
Thatcher looks up, catching my gaze through the glass, and I curse the fact that his desk, even through the wall, still feels too close. His smile, genuine and disarming, catches me off guard. I look down at my reports so quickly that my neck twinges.
Maybe I should get his desk moved.
My phone’s ringtone cuts through the silence with Noah’s name glowing on the screen. I swear Lior married Noah as my personal penance for past sins.
“Pierce!” Noah’s voice carries the same tone it always does. Friendly, confident, and caring, with a splash of revenge. “How’s Meatball settling in? I told Lior you’d be perfect for each other.”
“We’ve only just met,” I lie, “so it’s hard to tell.”
Thatcher gets up to talk to other people in the open office. He’s all smiles and hand gestures.
“Give him a chance, Pierce. I know he seems unconventional, but he’s got something special.”
