There’s a slight head gesture to the seat across from him, and my stomach flips. Slowly, I stand, grab my bag, and walk down the narrow aisle, feeling like I’ve been invited to sit with the popular kids at lunch.
It’s a long flight, and I’m on the clock. Maybe he wants to keep an eye on me and make sure I’m making the most of my time. There are still a million tasks on my to-do list.
I’ve just started to pull my laptop from my bag when he says, “Your performance has been adequate, Lucy.”
My heart jumps to my throat, like it always does when he says my name, and I snap my head up to look at him, but he’s not looking at me. It’s like he can’t bring himself to do it, or like I’m not very interesting to him.
“Thank you,” I say, even though I’m not totally sure if it’s meant to be a compliment.
“Frankly, you’ve already outlived many of our other assistants.” Dane sets his papers down and shifts his attention to me. I realize, with a start, that he is wearing glasses. I’ve never seen him wear them before.
“You’re wearing glasses,” I blurt, without thinking, and Dane blinks, pulling his head back. For a moment, I think I’ve made a mistake and that he’s going to withdraw whatever praise he was about to offer, but then he laughs.
“I am,” he says, touching the side of the frames briefly. “I have Lasik, but it needs to be touched up every ten years or so. I’m coming up on it, so I need these for reading.”
They soften him and give me the feeling that I’m getting to see something others don’t. A gentler side to him.
“That’s good to know,” I joke, needing something to do with myself, so I pull out the binder and open to his section, “I’ll make a note of that.”
“What is that?” he asks, voice shifting back to professional, attention landing on the open binder. Worry flushes through me, and I slide the binder a little closer to myself, as though he hasn’t already seenDane Rourkewritten on the top of the page.
“It’s uh—they gave it to me when I was hired. It’s supposed to be?—”
He’s already reaching for it, gently pulling it from under my arm and onto the table in front of him. “Notes on us,” he muses,flipping through it, “that’s smart. Or would be, if they weren’t mostly incorrect.”
I flush, “They are?”
Thankfully, I haven’t taken any notes of my own there yet, or I’d be even more embarrassed. I’ve been far too busy trying to pull Amsterdam together while juggling all the other tasks to think about recording details about Dane Rourke.
Plus, what would I even add?Gifts amazing products on the first day. Pays for your clothes. Invades your thoughts.
ThankgodI didn’t write anything in there, even as a joke.
“Yeah,” he says, pushing the binder back toward me. “Most of that stuff is pulled from the internet, which is usually wrong.”
“Really?” I can’t keep the genuine curiosity from my voice, considering the fact that the internet has been my primary source of information, too. “Like… what?”
Dane gives me a careful look, then clears his throat, laces his fingers together, and says, “Well, based on what wedofor the company, Nico and I should really have swapped roles. I handle all the day-to-day logistics and ensure things run smoothly. I look for the bottlenecks in our processes and remove them, manage hiring practices—anything that’s the meat of the company, that’s me.”
“And Nico does…?” I ask, knowing that his role is technically COO, but not really understanding what that means.
“Nico does the dreaming, the big thinking. I mean—Cole is the one who figures out how to solve the problems, but Nico is usually the one finding the problem in the first place. He sends Cole in the right direction and gets him going, and once we have an idea, I get to work on my part.”
“So, really, Nico should be the CEO?” I ask, then immediately wish I hadn’t, since that seems like an uncouth question.
But Dane just nods, “Right… something like that. But being CEO is about more than just vision and decision-making.It’s also about being the face of a company and taking on the responsibility of your choices. Nico has never really liked responsibility all that much.”
I nod. As far as I know, Cole has been off sourcing materials for the new product line, but it was never made clear what Nico was doing on his trip. Maybe that means he was just… vacationing?
“And the three of you are friends,” I say, not wanting the conversation to die. Without my realizing it, we’ve already taxied to the runway, gone through the scary part of take-off, and are now aloft in the sky.
Dane’s face pinches slightly. “Something like that.”
I shouldn’t ask, but I’m curious and can’t stop myself. “What do you mean?”
He gives me another careful look, like he’s trying to figure out what I’m really asking, and whether or not he should answer. Then, he seems to decide on something and says, “We are more than friends.”
I jerk my head back without meaning to, bringing my hand to my mouth with a gasp. What Julian wouldn’t give to be here for this conversation. “You’re?—?”
