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I took one last glance at the bar. Ethan was leaning against it, talking. Emma was her usual cool self, but she was smiling.
Everything was so easy for her. Have a problem? Fix it. Want to start an uber-successful company? Do it. Need to get laid? Message a guy whose dick you’ve already approved and get on with it.
I wouldn’t even be able to hold a grudge against her for tonight, which she knew perfectly well. Despite this annoying stunt, my sister was the one person I counted on in this big, heartless city. Truly, she was my only friend.
As I walked out the door onto the cool, dark street, now lit with lights from signs and traffic, I thought about Aidan Winters. He was my friend too, perhaps. Someone I counted on. He’d probably find that absurd, which it was—he was my boss, and I was self-reliant anyway. I could see him now, giving me one of his wry looks and saying I think I’m flattered, Samantha, but I’m not sure.
I still didn’t know if I was fired for derailing the Egerton deal.
I didn’t know if Aidan was my friend or not.
I didn’t know where he was right now. With a woman, maybe. Talking, laughing. Fucking her. Maybe a woman he saw regularly, maybe one he’d just met. I didn’t know what was in the blank parts of his schedule. It was none of my business.
I turned and walked up the street toward the subway, wondering if he was ever as lonely as I was.
Nine
Aidan
* * *
The next few days kept me busy, and I was rarely in the office. It sounds like a ruse, but it wasn’t; my specialty at Tower VC was real estate deals. Real estate deals require looking at lots and lots of real estate. That’s the job.
In fact, I’d spent more time behind my desk over the past three months than I had in a year. I’d put off plenty of showings and appointments all over town, just so that I could spend more time at the office. The reason was Samantha Riley. She didn’t know that, and it was best if it stayed that way. In the meantime, I had a business to run.
We were in touch constantly, even when I was traveling from appointment to appointment, all over New York. She kept my schedule, sorted my email, filed my paperwork, drafted letters, dealt with HR and the legal team. We texted frequently and talked on the phone several times a day. She was as competent and intelligent as ever, figuring things out before I had to take the time to tell her, anticipating problems and killing them before they could arise. I turned down three deals in three days, but I also closed one. A deal that would make a lot of money. My professional life was made easier, and more profitable, because of my paragon of an executive assistant.
It was hell.
I didn’t see her first thing every morning. I didn’t hear her voice or see her smile. I didn’t get to catalog what she was wearing every day—the dark gray pencil skirt? Or had she moved to lighter spring colors? Was her hair worn up or down? She usually wore it up, but she varied the style. She’d worn it down only a few times since I’d met her, so it wasn’t her usual style. I wondered why that was.
Aside from my selfish desire to look at her, I sensed something else was wrong. Samantha was more reserved than before—she was always professional, but this was different. She was almost stiff, and sometimes when we talked on the phone I felt like she was trying to get rid of me. As if she didn’t want to talk to me at all.
It festered. It had something to do with the meeting with the Egerton brothers, I was almost sure of it. I had walked out without a word to her that day, but I’d never done anything to give her the impression that the problem was with her. I’d simply been too furious to say anything at all. It was my old, teenaged temper rearing up; usually I conquered it, but not that day. I’d been too angry. But I was calm now, and I’d figured that if the topic was never mentioned, Samantha would get the idea that nothing was wrong.
It had backfired somehow. She stopped joking and making sma
ll talk. She was all business.
On Friday afternoon, I figured out why.
I was in the office to meet with two of the lawyers from our legal team to go over contracts. Since they were Tower employees, I didn’t need Samantha to greet them at reception or show them in. Since it was almost the end of the day, I didn’t need her to furnish coffee or food. I let Samantha work in her office, and I met the lawyers in the meeting room myself.
I had forgotten a few papers on my desk, so I left the meeting room to go get them. As the door closed behind me, I heard one of the lawyers say, “That guy scares the shit out of me.”
It was as clear as if he’d said it in my ear. Something about the acoustics sent the sound straight to where I stood instead of muffling it, even though the door was closed.
I blinked in surprise for a second, and then I remembered the Egerton brothers, saying their frat-boy bullshit as Samantha walked away. I hadn’t looked closely enough, watched her body language as she walked. If I had, I probably would have seen her stiffen—because she’d heard.
I walked away from the meeting room and headed straight for her office. I didn’t think twice about what I’d heard—that guy scares the shit out of me. Scaring people wasn’t something I set out to do, but if I had that effect, fine. It could even be useful.
Besides, I didn’t care what the lawyers thought. I cared what Samantha thought.
Her office door was open and she was sitting behind her desk, typing at her laptop. She sensed me coming and looked up as I approached, her eyes wide.
“In my office,” I said. And then, because that sounded harsh, I added, “Please.”
Samantha nodded and stood. I heard her follow me the short distance to my door. The lawyers could see us through the glass of the meeting room. They might be wondering what was happening, but I’d forgotten about them.
