I school my expression and smile. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Hmm, because your face just went all frowny.”
“It’s nothing. I was just having some bad intrusive thoughts.”
“Oh, you mean the doubt?”
“Huh?”
He leans closer. “That stupid feeling that overcomes you and tells you that you’re not good enough. You’re too young and still figuring yourself out. You’re most definitely not good enough for a sophisticated older man.”
I open my mouth and then close it again because I don’t know what to say.
“Tell me something?” he whispers in my ear. “Is his hand on your leg?”
I nod.
“Then you have your answer.”
I look at Pierce, and at that moment, he looks back at me and smiles. His hand tightens on my leg, but his face gives nothing away.
Maybe I can live with having him in any way I can for now.
26
PIERCE
I glanceat the desk outside my office and don’t like that it’s empty. The only evidence of Thatcher is a stack of sticky-note pads and the potted plant where Anthony allegedly lives.
The publisher he connected with at the conference got in touch with him yesterday, asking for a meeting today. I want him here with me, but my desire to see the man I love succeed overruled my selfishness for once, and I gave him the day off so he could prepare for the meeting.
This is what it’ll be like when he’s out there being a successful artist, books with his illustrations gracing the shelves of bookstores around the country. Someone else will be sitting in his chair. My files and reports will no longer come with personalized doodles and encouraging notes. A dull pain settles in my chest. I press against it with my hand, but it doesn’t get better.
Get it together, Dellcourt. He’s just in a meeting. It doesn’t mean anything.
But the problem is that I want it to mean everything. I want him to get the publishing deal. I want him to follow his dreams. But I also want him near me. I want lunch breakswith him, and I want to see the little dance he does in his chair when he ticks a task off his to-do list.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I force myself to go back to spreadsheets that, for the first time in my life, have lost their appeal.
Two o’clock approaches like an inevitable storm. I get to the conference room early, settling into my usual seat and arranging my materials with more care than necessary. The real financial documents sit in a neat stack beside me, ready to counter whatever James is about to present.
Lior enters looking calm and composed, greeting the board members with his usual professional warmth. Only I can see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes briefly meet mine with a look that says everything is in place.
“Where’s Thatcher today?” Tina asks, glancing at the empty chair beside me.
“Publisher meeting,” I reply, trying to keep the pride out of my voice. “Professional development opportunity.”
“Good for him,” she says warmly. “That young man has real talent. As much as I love to get his messages filled with colorful sticky notes, his talent is wasted as a personal assistant.”
At exactly two p.m., James strides into the room with the confidence of a man who believes he holds all the winning cards. He’s followed by his legal team and an assistant carrying presentation materials.
“Thank you all for accommodating this meeting,” James begins, his smile sharp as he moves to the head of the table. “I understand this isn’t standard protocol in these types of negotiations, but what I have to share today will fundamentally change how you view VSE’s future. You’ll soon understand why it’s vital that we move swiftly.”
Thornton leans forward with obvious interest, and I haveto suppress the urge to smile. He has no idea he’s about to be exposed.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” James continues, activating his presentation screen, “VSE is in crisis.”
