Page 10 of The Truth of Us

Opening the thread, I burst out laughing at the barrage on my screen.

Elliot:

I enjoy being able to see you at work

Sorry, was that not professional?

Do you hate meetings that should have been emails?

Me too!

I think I need an assistant just to filter through the nonsense HR and Marketing book me for

I’ll send over the details for the gala

Do you want to send your address so I can pick you up, or should we pretend I don’t already know where you live?

So, are you seeing someone?

Never mind, not sure I want to know about your sugar daddies

Sugar daddies? I shook my head, smiling. If only he knew.

Scrolling down, I realized how much his private humour contrasted with his polished, untouchable public persona.

Should I send a dress?

Should we match?

The HR rep just gave me a glaring look because I’m looking at gowns instead of reviewing the presentation.

My fingers hovered over the keypad, trying to decide which line to address first. I settled on keeping it brief and focused.

Me:

Pick me up at six. I own plenty of formal gowns, so a new one isn't necessary, but thank you for the offer.

My screen lit up with an incoming call, and my smile softened when I saw my father’s name on the display. Placing the phone in its dashboard cradle, I connected the Bluetooth, answered the call, and pulled out of the parking garage into the afternoon traffic.

Working with the Northwell partners was going to be a wild ride, but one thing was certain: they would not make this easy.

6

ELLIOT

To say I was looking forward to tonight would be an understatement. I hadn’t seen Harper since our not-so-accidental hallway run-in. She had finally replied to my barrage of texts, which I immediately regretted sending. That wasn’t me. I don’t lose my cool or vomit strings of digital desperation into a chat window… I think I’ve been spending way too much time with Theo. But since that embarrassing exchange, she’d gone radio silent.

I held back on the daily messages and gifts I wanted to send her, hoping to seal the deal tonight. If all went well, I’d propose an arrangement where we both got what we wanted: she could pretend it was strictly professional, and I could hopefully fuck her out of my system and get back to the way things had been. Or… I could follow Julian’s lead. The jury was still out on that one. He approached Lucy the way a corporate raider approaches a hostile takeover, but Lucy wasn’t a corporate asset. She was different from us, and she had rejected his emotionless proposal for ‌marriage and reproduction. Yet, somehow, he’d convinced her to show up tonight, another train wreck I was eager to watch.

I’d given my driver Harper’s address without a second thought, only to sit up straighter when I noticed where the car was turning. I tapped the glass partition, asking if we were in the right spot. The driver reassured me that we were minutes away.

Who the fuck is she fucking?

I’d read the file Rowan had on her, and nothing in it explained why she lived in the Gold Coast. The file was a little light, so he might have missed something, but that didn’t sound like Rowan….

We crossed into the Gold Coast, a neighbourhood built on old money, family legacy, and luxury. The driver slowed, pulling into a section of historic townhouses on a quiet, tree-lined street. We pulled up to a five-story, fully restored limestone townhouse with towering arched windows, black iron railings, and window boxes filled with white flowers.

What the...