“Pierce.” Lior’s voice gentles. “We’re going to handle James. Together this time. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”
I nod, but as I stand to leave, the weight on my chest isn’t about James or corporate warfare. It’s about the way Thatcher looked at me on that roof, the way I pulled him against that door without asking, the way I can’t seem to control myself around him.
When I return to my office, Thatcher isn’t around, and his desk is suspiciously tidy. A pink sticky note stands out on my black computer screen.
Personal matter or escape route? The question gnaws at me.
Fresh guilt rises as I remember how I pulled him up to the roof without asking. He’d responded enthusiastically, yes, but power imbalances make everything complicated. I’m his boss. What if he felt obligated? What if…?
James’s threats suddenly feel manageable compared to this. We have a plan for the corporate warfare, a strategy to turn the tables. But this thing with Thatcher? I have no plan for that.
15
THATCHER
The hot showerdid nothing to wash away the bitter taste of disappointment coating my throat. I’d walked along the river for hours after leaving the restaurant, trying to process what had just happened, watching the sun set over the water while my father’s words echoed in my head.
“I’m proud of you, son. Really proud.”
For exactly thirty seconds, I’d believed him. Thirty seconds of thinking, maybe, finally, my father saw something worthwhile in what I was doing. Then came the real reason for his sudden show of support.
“Your brother’s firm has an opening. Junior analyst position. Tobias put in a good word.” He’d slid a business card across the table like it was a done deal. “Real career potential, Thatcher. Benefits, advancement opportunities, the kind of stability your mother would have wanted for you.”
He went right for the jugular by mentioning my mom.
I’d tried to explain about VSE, about how well things were going, about the art I was finally taking seriously again. But his smile had contained that patronizing edge I know too well.
“This assistant thing has been a nice break, but it’s time to be realistic. The position starts Monday. I already told them you’d accept.”
That was when I walked out of the restaurant.
Thinking about it makes my chest tight all over again. I pull on sweatpants and an old T-shirt, my hair still damp from the shower, trying to shake off the feelings I always get whenever I see my father.
I should have known better.
I shouldn’t have left the office.
Especially not after what happened with Pierce in the roof garden.
The memory of him pushing me against the wall and going down on his knees makes me hot all over again. We would have crossed a line.
An even bigger line than the ones we’ve already crossed.
The knock on my door almost makes me jump. I know it’s not Alli because she told me she was on a date tonight when I asked her if I could come over.
I open the door to find Pierce standing in the hallway, looking nothing like the man I see at work. His usual perfect suit has been replaced by black sweatpants and a soft gray Harvard hoodie that clings to his chest. The sight makes my tongue feel too big for my mouth. His hair is slightly mussed and wet, like he showered before coming over.
“Pierce.” I can’t hide my surprise. “I…wasn’t expecting… What are you doing here?”
“I know,” he interrupts, words tumbling out in a way that’s completely unlike his usual measured speech. “I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I was worried when you left early, and I couldn’t stop thinking that it was my fault. I got your address from your file. What happened on theroof…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I handled it badly.”
“Come in,” I say, stepping back.
My apartment suddenly feels impossibly small with Pierce in it. He takes in the space, the sketches covering every wall, the art supplies scattered across the coffee table, the general chaos that is my life.
“This is…” He pauses, studying a drawing of the VSE office building I created from memory. “It’s very you.”
I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not, but the way he’s looking around suggests he’s actually interested, not judging. “Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
