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I continue, "Marshall Greene was there too. He's offered me a project. Of course, I accepted."
My dad's eyes flicker to Bailey then back to me. Bailey's face pales.
I feel like I've missed the memo on something...
I raise my hands in an exaggerated shrug, my face full of confusion.
The silence in the room is thick, heavy.
Bailey abruptly stands, her chair scraping back on the tiles. Her hands ball into fists at her sides. "Marshall Greene. MarshallfreakingGreene. He's one of my top clients, Logan!" she yells, her voice echoing around the office. She whirls around to my dad. "And you're going to let this happen?"
My dad opens his mouth to respond, but Bailey doesn't give him a chance. She's back on me, her blue eyes sparking fire.
"I have beennothingbut helpful to you since you waltzed into this company, and this is how you repay me? By stealing my clients?!"
Oh shit.
It hits me then. Greene was one of her clients. I didn't know. I open my mouth to explain, but Bailey is already up, storming out of the office, leaving me and my dad in stunned silence.
My dad finally breaks the silence, his voice steady despite the drama that had just unfolded. "Logan, let's talk." He motions for me to sit. "I'm proud of you for stepping up and getting those projects. You're showing initiative, and that's commendable. Keep it up." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "But in this business world, it's crucial not to bite the hands that feed you. You need to keep a clean plate... remember that."
His words hit me like a punch in the gut.
If he knew that we had sex, he'd fucking kill me right now.
My plate... My plate is certainly not clean.
I run a hand through my hair, anxiety bubbling up within me. "But what if... what if the plate can't be kept clean anymore?"
"Then, you'll need to figure out how to manage the mess."
I sit wondering if my dad's intuition is sharp enough to see that my mess extends beyond clients. That my messy plate consists of office closets and sex eyes.
I try to switch the tone of the conversation, needing to escape the phantom guilt. "I’m... I’m going to go talk to Bailey."
My dad nods at me. "That's a good idea." He clasps his hands together, looking up at me.
I step out of the office, scanning the desks for Bailey's head.
"Anyone seen Bailey?"
One of the interns looks up at me "I... I saw her leave. Said something about getting coffee?"
Ah, coffee, Bailey's only weakness, apart from... Well, we won't get into that.
I make my way to my car and I head towards the one place I know she loves more than any other—the little café down the street, home to her favorite triple shot caramel macchiato.
The drive is short and as I pull around the corner, I spot Bailey. She's trudging along the sidewalk. I slow the car to crawl alongside her.
"Hey," I call out, rolling down the passenger window.
She ignores me.
I try again.
"Bailey, get in."
She side-eyes me but keeps walking. "What? So you can kidnap me and steal the rest of my clients too?"
