Page 122 of Secrets on Ice

“We were both reckless tonight.” She looks up at me.

We both know this was a mistake, and I know we’re going to do it again. It’s inevitable.

32

EMBER

Harper: I'm so sorry I can't come, I feel like absolute garbage. This child is punishing me. Sam will meet you out the front at 10.

Cassidy and I stand on the footpath outside Harper’s office in an amazing part of Manhattan.

The building is classic New York red brick, but it’s been updated. Clean lines, big, black-framed windows, and a modern glass entrance that still works with the old architecture. There’s a sleek black awning over the door with ‘The Rose Agency’ in crisp white lettering, and a couple of large planters with bright greenery framing the steps. It feels polished and current, exactly the kind of place you’d expect a successful PR firm to call home.

“The building is gorgeous,” Cassidy says.

Sam walks out the front door, hanging up his phone, and greets us. “There you are. Sorry, you’re stuck with me today. I promise I will do my best.” He kisses us both on the cheek. “Harper told me about your launch, sounds fantastic. I think I might need to talk to you ladies about updating my bachelor pad.”

“Of course. We’d love to help,” I tell him.

“Great, now let’s show you the space.”

Cassidy and I look at each other excitedly.

He walks us through the lobby, which is all warm timber, low lighting, and a huge arrangement of flowers on the front desk. The woman behind it greets him by name and waves us through.

“How many floors?” Cassidy asks as we get in the elevator.

“Six. The agency's got the bottom five.” He presses a button. “You're on six.”

“What's on six now?” I ask.

“Nothing.” The doors close. “Fair warning, it's a mess. Nobody's touched it in years.”

The elevator takes us up and opens, and neither of us moves.

It isn't an office.

It's the whole floor. Windows down two full sides, timber underfoot, columns running through the middle of it, and light pouring in from both directions. There's junk everywhere, stacked chairs, boxes, old signage, a dust sheet thrown over something big in the corner. It's enormous.

“Oh,” Cassidy says.

I'm already walking. The timber's original under all the dust. The columns are the good kind, the kind you leave exactly where they are and build around. There's a wall at the far end with no windows in it at all, which is exactly where you'd want the samples, and the corner opposite gets light from both sides.

“I thought Harper said she had an office. We were picturing something much smaller.”

“I’m going to blame baby brain.” He chuckles. “The whole floor is yours. It’s not being used,” Sam explains.

“But this is too much. The rent on this must be huge,” I say.

“My grandfather gifted the building to Harper for her twenty-first birthday.” My eyes widen. I knew Harper was rich, but this is rich, rich. “Look, my sister wouldn’t have offered it if she didn’t want you to have it. As annoying as she is, she has a big heart and will do anything for her friends. We will make sure this is all cleaned up for you. Yes, it’s a big space, but I think you’re going to need it. It can be a warehouse for your products as well. Harper has been raving about your throws since your launch.”

She really must have liked it if she’s told her brother.

“Em, the ceilings.” Cassidy points. We stare at the large beams.

It’s industrial chic.

“We love it,” I tell him.