Sine Qua Non

Chapter Ten

Usually, someone was chasing through the house—a man who wanted to hurt her, his face drenched in shadow, the familiar hallways warped like funhouse mirrors—but this time, she was trapped in the pool. There was some kind of party going on, like one of those Golden Age Hollywood bacchanals, and although people kept walking by, none of them could hear her screaming. None of them could see that the water was already frozen, and that beneath that score of big band jazz, her screams were fading as she drowned.

I’m all alone , she thought. I’m going to die down here.

And then someone grabbed her arm—

“Jay.”

She woke up with a choking gasp, tears running down her face. When she realized that heavy hand she remembered had been pulled with her from her dreams, she jolted forward in the dark, a shrill cry escaping her lips. “ No .”

“It’s time to get up.” The owner of the hand leaned forward, more shadow than man in the dark. But she recognized that silhouette and her body relaxed before her heart did.

“Oh,” she said. “N-Nick. It’s just you.”

She saw his head tilt, as if he were taking in her expression and posture. “Did I scare you?”

“N-no. Just a bad dream.” She fell back against the mattress. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Nicholas yanked the covers off, making her yelp. And then she abashedly clapped her hand over her mouth, belatedly remembering the neighbors.

Like they don’t recognize the sound of your screams by now.

“Get up,” Nicholas said, and she was grateful that it was too dark for him to see her blush. “Or no coffee.”

“What coffee? I packed the machine.”

“Coffee that I went out and bought for you.” He waved a cup beneath her nose that smelled utterly intoxicating. Where had he gotten that? It wasn’t gas station swill and Jay didn’t know if any places in this area that were open before—God, what time was it? She reached for the cup and he pulled his arm back. “Get dressed and you can have it.”

Jay grumbled but slid her legs out of bed, letting out an involuntary expletive when Nicholas snapped the light on. He quickly retreated out of swatting distance, leaning back against the wall with her drink in hand as she reached for her skirt. He was already fully dressed, she couldn’t help noticing, and irritatingly awake.

“Do you mind?” she asked irritably.

His smile widened. “Not at all.”

“Dick.”

She turned her back on him to change into the business casual outfit she had laid out the night before—when she had been so furious with his head-fucking that she’d burned off her rage by finishing off what remained of the packing.

Ah yes, now she remembered why she was so annoyed with Nicholas. Mr. That’s-Why-You-Never-Fucked-Any-of-Your-High-School-Boyfriends was a fine one to talk, when he’d never dated anyone long enough to even know her middle name.

Anger made her fingers clumsy, and though she refused to look at him, she sensed that Nicholas was very amused as he watched her struggle to hook her own bra.

Finally managing the last hook, she began buttoning up her blouse as quickly as she could without looking like she was trying to rush, making sure her skirt was zipped before folding her pajamas into her large purse. She braced herself before turning around.

“Coffee.” She put out her hand. “Now.”

Nicholas handed her the cup, and then gave her ass a smack that had her whipping around to glare at him as he grabbed a second drink from the kitchen counter. “Does anyone else know what a grumpy little bird you are in the morning, or is that something you save for me?”

“It’s still dark out, you monster.”

“So it’s only Daddy you won’t play nice with.”

“Fuck you, Nicholas.”

“If we didn’t have a plane to catch,” he said, “I would.”

Jay set her teeth. The U-Haul driver Nicholas had hired had left with her things very early in the morning, and he had booked a red-eye flight back to LA. Red-eyes were cheaper but money, of course, was no object to him. He just wanted to get her back to Hollybrook, and his bed, as soon as possible. The energy surrounding him was so palpable that she could feel it against her skin.

He’s planning something , she thought. And I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it.

She hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder and grabbed her carry-on. Carbon had already been loaded into his carrier, she noticed, and was now caterwauling in the hall. Mildly impressed that Nicholas had managed to coax him out of wherever he’d been hiding, Jay looked around her empty apartment and tried to dredge up some sort of emotion. This place had been her refuge for years; surely, she thought, staring at the blank walls and scuffed floors, she should feel something .

“Taxi’s waiting,” Nicholas said, breaking into her thoughts.

“Well, let’s not keep him then,” Jay said tautly.

“Considering what I tipped him, we probably could fuck for a good solid hour and go out for breakfast afterwards, and he’d still be here waiting.”

“Oh my god.” Jay took a mutinous sip of coffee and headed for the door. Then she thought better of turning her back on him and reached behind her, catching his wrist before he could spank her again. “Smack my ass one more time,” she said threateningly, “and I’m breaking this off.”

Nicholas chuckled and twisted out of her grip. This close to him, she could read the writing on his cup, which appeared to be a quad-shot latte with at least six pumps of sugar. Just reading the label made her feel like she had high blood pressure. When she looked up at him, his eyes were alight with wicked mischief. “Next time, I’m booking a later flight.”

She didn’t fully get that until they were on the stairs, and then she missed a step.

The driver only seemed a little grouchy as he loaded their things into the back and it was a quick drive to the airport. The sun hadn’t even breached the horizon yet and the sky was a deep midnight blue. Jay watched the skyscrapers tumble past while Carbon napped at her feet in his carrier, marveling at how those big glass windows reflected the stars so clearly.

Nicholas scrolled through his phone, reclining against the seat with his legs spread. His thigh was resting against hers. Every time they hit a pothole, the feel of his wool trousers rubbing against her bare calf sent a troubling current pulsing through her legs. One of his arms was draped over the back of the seat, and she was aware of his hand, resting mere inches about her left shoulder. Toying with her hair. Making her skin feel too tight beneath her clothes.

“Do you do this often?” she asked desperately.

He lowered his phone, circling it to indicate the car. “What, this? Travel? No, not as often as I used to. Why?”

“I had no idea you were such a morning person.”

“It was all those morning swim meets in high school and college. I got used to being an early riser, burning off all that extra energy before dawn in cold, cold water. It turned out to be the perfect boot camp for international travel.” He flicked her shoulder and goosebumps rippled down her arm. “Two years ago, I went to Asia and stayed at the fanciest hotel in Singapore. It had everything—laundry service, five-star restaurants, an infinity pool that looked out over the whole city. But the whole time I was there—I was wishing that you were with me. Especially at night, on those ridiculous silk sheets.”

“Nicholas.” A harsh breath escaped her. “God. The driver.”

“Don’t be such a prude, Jay. I’m sure people fuck in this backseat all the time.”

“Some of the drunk ones try,” the driver said, making Jay jump. “If see ‘em, I kick them out.”

“That’s the lesson.” Nicholas slid his hand up her thigh. “Don’t get caught.”

Jay took his hand and flung it back at him. I’m still mad at you , she reminded herself. Stop it.

“I should take you there,” he mused, looking at her thoughtfully.

They pulled up at the drop-off point and Jay looked away from Nicholas’s smirk, cheeks flaming. She gauged the traffic instead. There was plenty of movement but it was far from busy. Nobody was honking or jockeying for space. Although at this ungodly hour, who had the energy for a fight? Jay lugged her carry-on onto the curb and heard Carbon let out an angry yowl.

“Speaking of not getting caught,” Nicholas said, stepping onto the curb with the cat carrier, “one of our VPs left unexpectedly, so that role should be opening up soon. And when it does, I think you should apply for it.”

“At your company?”

“Yes, Jay,” he said, with a little laugh. “My company.”

“I don’t know,” she said dubiously. “I’m not sure I have the experience.”

“I happen to know that Arthur thinks you would be perfect for the position, too.”

“Really? He does?”

She must not have been fucking up as badly as she’d thought, if Arthur was talking her up like that to Nicholas—although how had the subject of her future with the company come up? After the dinner invitation? Before it? She glowed at the approval, but wasn’t sure about how to feel about Nicholas’s involvement.

She tightened her grip on her suitcase. With his penchant for overstepping, probably alarmed . “How would that work? Most people want decades of experience.”

“We promote based on merit, not tenure. Otherwise, people think they deserve a raise just for showing up.” A harsh edge snaked into his voice.

“Wouldn’t I be working directly under you then?”

Nicholas paused, and Jay cringed inwardly, her eyes instinctively scanning to see who was going to be around to hear the filthy joke he was undoubtedly about to make at her expense. But he just slung his backpack down on the counter and began to undo his belt and then his brogues. “Technically, no. You’d be working under Arthur—” God , thought Jay “—but you would also continue to report to me. Because everyone eventually reports to me.”

Jay dropped her necklace in one of the bins with her shoes and purse. “That sounds like the sort of job where one of the implied prerequisites is ‘don’t sleep with the CEO.’”

“Secretaries also aren’t supposed to fuck their bosses,” Nicholas pointed out. “If you’re going to be fucking me either way, why not take the pay raise and fuck me as a vice-president? RSUs, equity, a six-figure base salary—Jay, I thought you were a feminist.”

“That is not feminism. That is like some sort of morally bankrupt welfare capitalism.”

Nicholas chuckled. “I suppose that’s one explanation for sticky wage theory.”

“Oh my god, Nicholas,” said Jay, and he laughed hard enough that several people looked over.

“But seriously, Jay, the role is perfect for you. Give it some thought, at least. Arthur will be reaching out shortly, but I thought you’d appreciate a warning. You always did like to overprepare.”

One of the TSA agents beckoned him over impatiently and Nicholas walked in that direction unhurriedly, tossing over his shoulder, “Just between you and me—you’d probably get it.”

Would I? She thought about that as she toed off her shoes so they could dust for explosives or whatever it was that they looked for in shoes. She took pride in the quality of her work but it was true that people often dismissed her role out of hand—like Annica said, Nobody wants to be a secretary forever, right? There were too many Harlequins and old pornos about secretaries who had fallen by the wayside. She distinctly remembered a fashion spread that she had seen in one of her mother’s magazines back in the 2000s, advertising office clothes by showing a woman seducing her boss in varying states of undress.

It would be nice to have a job where people actually took her seriously. Even if they should be doing that now, in her current role, she had accepted it as an inevitability a long time ago, and she was tired of defending the necessity of what she did to people who couldn’t even begin to understand the skills required for her job and didn’t even want to.

God help her, she was tempted.

They got through the rest of security without a hitch and boarding was the fastest she’d ever experienced. There were so many empty seats. When the flight attendant walked them to the front and asked them if they wanted to have anything to drink, Jay shook her head.

“Champagne for me.” Nicholas swung himself grandly into his seat.

With the second course of his liquid breakfast brought to hand, Nicholas pulled out his laptop and immediately began fighting with people over email.

Jay shook her head and leaned back in her seat. The frenzied typing, peppered with the occasional editorial grunt, was oddly soothing. It was nice not to be alone. Undemanding companionship—that’s what they had when they were young, occupying the same shared space like two small doomed planets revolving around a pair of unpredictable suns. Molten fire and icy darkness. It made her think of that documentary that they had watched together before everything had grown so muddled.

Back when she had been his prisoner, and none of this had been her choice.

But I don’t feel like his prisoner anymore .

Very distantly, she was aware of Nicholas declining the offer of an in-flight breakfast. “Can I get a blanket?” he asked, and Jay thought, Mm, a blanket sounds nice.

When she felt something soft drape over her bare legs, she thought she was dreaming.

She cracked open her eye and saw Nicholas adjusting the blanket over her lap. He had the softest expression she’d ever seen on his face, so vulnerable and open that it just about broke her heart. She didn’t dare move, the weight of his eyes like a physical stroke. When he reached up to smooth the hair back tenderly from her face, she nearly jumped.

(I’m not the one who fucks with my eyes closed)

His fingers stroked down her cheek, lingering like he couldn’t bear to stop. Oh, Nick . She struggled to remain still, unwilling to betray herself and end this prematurely and wondering if he could feel her fluttering pulse. Please don’t.

Feigned sleep must have turned into real sleep because when she opened her eyes again, Nicholas was shaking her and his touch wasn’t gentle at all.

After another parade through security and a much shorter wait for their taxi, followed by a much longer drive, Jay was back to where she had started: at his big house with the ridiculous colonnades that still made her heart skip when she saw it rising up on the hill like a mirage because it looked so much like a cage. The sun was rising, filtering through the leaves of the mulberry tree she had once climbed as a child, and the fragrant smell of jasmine and roses drifted on the morning breeze like a balm. What a pretty cage it is , she thought. And what a seductive jailer .

There was just enough time to shower and change. The Chihuly sculpture swayed menacingly overhead from the current they’d let in, making her remember the night that Nicholas had taken her beneath it on the stairs like some sort of satyr the night he proposed, and how it had turned the moonlight on their bodies a ghostly blue.

She would never be free of him.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

Unable to do her hair the way she wanted, Jay worked mousse into her curls and scrunched them up with a t-shirt between blow-drying after her shower. It felt very high school, back when everyone had wanted those loose waves that looked wet. Her mother thought it was wasted effort. “Why don’t you just flat-iron your hair?” she said, and so for several years, Jay had.

Jay thought her blouse was looking a little rumpled, so she changed into a black blouse with translucent sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline that melted into more that same sheer tulle that fluted around her neck like a ruff. When she got to the door, she saw Nicholas had changed, too, with his shirt left open to reveal a hint of his collarbones.

He didn’t talk much as they drove to the office, turning on his music instead. More fuck-boy rock. She watched his steady hands on the wheel. Did he dream about the past, too?

“I missed you,” he said, when they pulled up in the parking lot and he had cut the music. “The house didn’t feel right while you were gone.”

She looked at him.

“I meant what I said before, too.” His eyes flicked from hers. “On the phone.”

It took her a moment to remember, and then she did, and it felt like going into freefall.

Jay pulled him back when he reached for the door and kissed him. He groped her through her blouse while they gasped and panted like teenagers and she let him tug and pull at fabric, until the ache building between her thighs was almost as desperate as their kissing.

“That’s enough.” Nicholas sounded breathless as he pulled her hand off his chest. A slight hint of mockery entered his voice. “Someone might see.”

“Oh god.”

“Go.” He popped the locks. “I need a moment.”

She glanced up at the second floor as she got out of the car, smoothing back a lock of hair. The parking lot was empty, but she hadn’t known that in the car.

What are you doing, kissing him like that?

The breeze felt like ice on her too-hot face.

Arthur and Annica were chatting in the kitchen when she came in. They went quiet when they saw her, which she told herself was fine.

“Jay!” Arthur said. “Welcome back.”

“Welcome back,” Annica echoed. Jay hazarded a look at her face: it did not look very welcoming.

“It’s good to be back. I don’t think I could stomach another red-eye.”

Arthur looked aghast. “Don’t tell me you flew in this morning.”

“It was—” Nick’s idea , she almost said. “No big deal,” she finished awkwardly. “There was more to do in San Francisco than I thought. I needed the extra time. It’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Arthur said, not looking convinced.

“I was actually just about to get a second coffee, if you’d like one.”

Annica shook her head, even though Jay hadn’t exactly been offering to her, but Arthur’s eyes lit up. “I think I’ll take you up on that. A flat white would be great, as well as whatever you’re getting for yourself.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jay said, rejecting his proffered card. “My treat.”

“Assistants treating their bosses,” Arthur said. “What is the world coming to?”

Annica looked as if she thought it were coming to a very bad place, indeed.

Jay looked up at Nicholas’s office and wondered if anyone had ever treated him. He seemed to think that everyone wanted him for everything but who he was. It would explain why he had so much antipathy for intimacy, and why he was constantly trying to court her affection with gifts.

His head turned her way and Jay whirled around, conscious of the many office cubicles all facing her way. “I’ll just go get those coffees then,” she said, too-brightly, as Arthur came out of the kitchen and headed towards the stairs that took him to his corner office.

He gave her a little puzzled wave.

Bravo, Jay. Very smooth.

It was a nice day, so Jay decided to go a little further than her usual Starbucks stop, heading to a little indie place with a curated photo wall and gently-used thrifted armchairs. The menu was handwritten in chalk, very fancy, though she had to squint to read the cursive.

“What’s the sweetest drink you have?” she asked the barista, who pursed her lips.

“The sweetest? Probably the white mocha frappe. I’ve been told it tastes a lot like white chocolate candy.”

“Do you have sprinkles you could put on it?”

“We use them for the donuts, but sure, I can put some on the whip and charge it like a topping, if that’s okay with you?”

“That would be great!” said Jay. “I’ll have that and a flat white and an oat milk latte. Make the white mocha and the oat milk decaf, please,” she added, remembering Nick’s quad shot from that morning.

The man behind her stepped up in line, forcing Jay to squeeze out of the way and off to the side with a little hop before he could press up against her. Ugh. She felt a flicker of impatience and unease, which she quickly suppressed, knowing that if either showed up on her face it would be worse. She studied the sparse remnants in the pastry case instead, keeping an ear out for her order.

She heard the man pay, noting that he didn’t say thanks. Jerk , she thought, her frown deepening when he approached to join her at the case. There was something familiar about the way he held himself. She stiffened and pulled out her phone.

There were no good reasons that she would remember a man of her stepfather’s age.

“Are you a fan of sweets?” he asked, looking at her boldly.

“No, not really. My boss is.”

“Oh? Where do you work?”

Little alarm bells went off in her head. She’d heard this line of questioning too many times before when listening to how men talked to her mother.

“Not that far,” she said evasively. “I’m just doing a coffee run.”

Tweed Creep smiled. “My wife doesn’t drink the stuff. Doesn’t see the need to get a coffee machine, either. I have to sneak out of the house to get my fix.”

Jay smiled tightly, doubting if there even was a wife. She hadn’t missed the once-over he’d given her in the reflection of the glass case when he thought she couldn’t see, or the casual way he’d fished for her place of work.

“Enjoy.” She kept her tone brisk. Not friendly but not annoyed, either. Men seemed to take both of those things as invitation. In the corner of her eye, she could see her order being placed in one of those drinks carriers and hurried over, waving her receipt before they could call out the name that was on her credit card. “That’s mine! Thank you.”

She slid a tip into their jar as she hurried out, clutching the carrier to her chest. The man wasn’t following—yes, she’d checked—but her heart was still going a mile a minute, the way it did whenever she thought of Damon.

Maybe you’ve forgotten how to talk to people , that voice that sounded like her mother said. All you do is hang around with Nicholas, and he’s not exactly Mr. Social.

And that was true. But after spending seventeen years traumatized by her stepfather’s attempted grooming, Jay had learned to trust her gut whenever her gut said “run.”

She sagged into the office, giving a tired nod to the receptionist as she flashed her lanyard. “Thanks, Jay,” Arthur said, when she handed him his coffee. “You’re an angel.”

(pure little angel)

Setting her shoulders, she walked down the hall to Nick’s door. It was open for once, but everyone was giving it—and him —a wide berth.

He looked up when her shadow fell over his desk, and that stern glare melted into a slight half-smile when he saw that it was her. Turning sideways in his chair, he propped one arm up on the desk to lean on his chin.

“And what can I do for you , Ms. Varens?”

She found herself looking at his fingers drumming on the armrest for a beat too long. “I brought you a coffee,” she said stiffly. “It’s half-chocolate, all sugar. You’ll love it.”

Nicholas blinked.

Nudging aside his empty mug, she placed the cup on his desk. Some of the whipped cream had melted on the walk over and the sprinkles had made it a runny rainbow mess, but he looked at it with the same bewildered expression he’d given her when she had brought him the cupcake from Just Avocados.

“Thank you, Jay.”

That was when it clicked—the man, the one from the coffee shop. Tweed Creep. He’d been the photographer at the farmer’s market—the one she’d seen while buying the cake.

She hadn’t recognized him without the bulky camera around his neck. Maybe his interest in her hadn’t been prurient, after all.

Nicholas cleared his throat. His eyebrows were raised. “Was there something else?”

“Yeah.” Jay bent towards his neck, and he sucked in an anticipatory breath that made the seams of his suit audibly strain around his shoulders. “Wash your disgusting mug before it gets mold in it,” she whispered in his ear, before taking a quick step back. “Enjoy the coffee.”

She walked back to her desk with a swing in her step, feeling his eyes hot on her back. Annica stared at her with obvious judgement and Jay, uncharitably, found herself thinking, Oh, go cry to your sad little group chat.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced up at the mezzanine where Nicholas was leisurely sipping his coffee in a way that looked downright indecent.

It tastes almost as sweet as you will later.

*****

For the fourth time in her life, Jay found herself moving things into her old childhood bedroom. It was surreal, shoving aside bubble hem dresses and skinny belts to make room for her adult clothes as she sidestepped her agitated cat. He raced around the room, alternating between sniffing at the boxes she was unpacking and yowling his unhappiness.

Jay felt sorry for him. Change upset her, too.

Perhaps it would have been smarter to insist upon her own apartment, but her heart wasn’t in it. It would feel too much like him setting her up as his mistress, and she knew he would fight her on rent, which would defeat the whole purpose of having her own place.

Nicholas may have freed her from her imprisonment, but now, in the absence of those barred walls, she felt as if she’d lost all the hard edges that had defined their relationship in this place.

And then there was his confession: he loved her, and wanted to marry her. If she left again, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would be taking his broken heart with her. She didn’t want to hurt him but staying here was a tacit promise of the very sort of possession that he had initially tried to obtain by force, and she wasn’t sure how to navigate that , either.

It didn’t help that part of her wanted to be here. The cruel boy who had used to fling her own confused desires back into her face like a knife-thrower at a carnival had become a man who could charm her into holding those selfsame blades at her own throat.

Things were different now, and he seemed to sense that, too. He hadn’t even come to her room and she had been listening for him, braced for the familiar tread of his footsteps outside her door.

It won’t last , she told herself. He’s not patient, he’s never had to wait.

But he didn’t come to her, and when she dragged herself down the stairs, poorly rested and haunted by the nightmares of a not-too-distant past, she felt hunted by the way his eyes tracked her through the kitchen, and how they lingered on the engagement ring she still wore at her throat.

She owed him an answer and could feel the unspoken deadline drawing nearer and nearer. For the first time in her life, she had control, and the thought of giving it up was terrifying.

Work was her only normal. From the moment she stepped out of his car, to the moment she walked over the threshold of his mansion, she was simply Justine Varens, administrative assistant. Not her stepbrother’s mistress. Not a stripper’s daughter. Not a member of the deposed elite, shaded and scorned by her betters. She was Jay. Just Jay.

And she was good at being Jay.

She just had to figure out the rest of it.

A calendar invite popped up on her computer screen with a cheerful chime. Jay looked away from the bullet points she was putting together for one of Arthur’s upcoming presentations to the Finance team. A meeting? Quarterly evaluations weren’t until next month and they only met every other week or so to discuss tasks and projects too detailed to fit into an email.

Hey, did we have a 1:1 that I forgot about?

No , Arthur responded. Are you available for a quick chat?

There were few words in the English language as terrifyingly euphemistic as “a quick chat.”

A cold feeling washed through her as she mentally sped through her performance over the last month and all the ways she could have failed.

Okay, sure, I’ll be right there.

She was being fired, clearly. They knew about her and Nick and this was the final straw. And it wouldn’t be sensitivity training for her , no. She wasn’t important enough to rehabilitate. They would just replace her with another assistant and she would be back to where she was before, living off of Nicholas’s charity and having to see the awful triumph of having her at his mercy in his eyes.

Arthur was waiting for her in one of the conference rooms on the second floor. She had to walk past Nicholas’s desk to get to it and was aware of his head turning to follow her shaky progress. In a company this small, word spread like wildfire. God, that fucking woman in Acquisitions had noticed that Nicholas waited for her inside his own parked car.

With a trembling hand, she closed the door behind her until it latched with a little click. This is the end, Jay. The privacy is just a formality in case you cry when you’re fired for being a whore.

“So,” Arthur said, in a voice that did not contain nearly enough disgust for how shameful she felt sitting in front of him. “Nicholas tells me that you’re very interested in the VP role that just opened up, which I have to admit was a bit of a surprise.”

Jay gaped at him, trying to understand. I’m not being fired collided full-force with Nicholas told you WHAT? It felt like her brain had just short-circuited and was shooting off sparks.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about what prompted your interest in the role,” Arthur suggested, when she continued to stare at him stupidly. “This isn’t a formal interview, of course, but I’m curious what made you want to apply, and also how you envision your future at this company. You’ve been here for a while and we haven’t yet discussed the prospect of growth.”

Arthur thinks you would be perfect for the position , Nicholas had said. Apparently that meant, I think you’re perfect for it, and I always get what I want so I’m going to meddle in your life.

Her fingers dug into the armrests as she forced herself to smile and nod.

I’m going to kill him , she thought.

Not now, though. Later, at home. In private. She might have wanted to wrap her hands around his big stupid neck and squeeze, but she didn’t want to get him fired. Between the near miss of the lawsuit and his total disdain for workplace harassment, something like this could well be the breaking point.

“I like it here,” Jay said, though this didn’t feel very true at the moment. Her mouth was dry from fear and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears like a timpani drum. “And it seemed like it would mesh with my current skillset. I have experience in overseeing projects and delegating assignments. And I work well with people—even if they’re difficult to work with.”

Even if I’m going to kill them later.

She glanced at Arthur’s face. It gave away nothing.

“I, um, also enjoy a challenge?”

“Directing is quite different from providing administrative support,” Arthur said.

Hearing her own doubts spoken out loud by someone else, no matter how gently, was devastating. Why had Nicholas done this to her? It was just another way she was going to fail.

“I know I don’t have a lot of experience but sometimes that can be a good thing,” she said, a little desperately. “When there’s no expectations, there’s no bad habits to break. You can just grow naturally into the role and pick up all the new skills like it was made for you.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He considered her, not unkindly. “Assuming one can step up to the task.”

And I’m not . Her shoulders sank despairingly. She was reading that loud and clear.

They discussed the role a little more. It was a very polite rejection. He kept emphasizing the word “expectations,” as if to drill in the fact that she wouldn’t be able to fulfill them, while Jay nodded and smiled and longed for nothing more than to flee from the room.

By the time the “quick chat” petered out into actual small talk, she was exhausted. Arthur asked her questions about San Francisco, and though she answered, she couldn’t remember anything she actually said. She thought she might have heard herself telling him about crying at the apple picture, which would have been even more humiliating, but at that point it was hard to be sure what she was saying because her brain had shut off from panic overload.

“I’ll reach out with next steps, Jay,” he said, concluding both the meeting and her silent torture. “But I really do appreciate you raising your hand for this role. I always tell people that you have to be your own advocate. Nobody else will make that push for you.”

I know one person who would. Right off a cliff.

She looked hard at Nicholas as she stumbled out of the room. He was on the phone but making no attempt to pretend like he wasn’t watching. If he even was on the phone—she knew that he faked his own phone calls when he didn’t want to be bothered. Evil, meddling bastard .

What the fuck? she mouthed at him, and he gave an insolent shrug, pointing to the receiver in a way that made her absolutely certain that he was not taking an actual call.

Even Annica looked over as she walked back to her desk, unlocking her computer one-handed and typing in her password, while scrambling for her phone.

Too busy to answer me, huh? But not too busy to mess around with my employment. How DARE you go over my head like that to Arthur. I don’t need you to micromanage my career. Not when the one you SHOULD be worrying about is your OWN.

She opened the list of bullet points and began line editing furiously.

Her phone lit up.

You said you didn’t want to be a kept woman.

I fail to see what that has to do with this situation.

Nicholas hung up his phone, putting an end to the charade.

If you’re a VP, you’ll be an executive.

Jay stared at her phone incredulously. And you think handing me the job like I’m one of those nepo babies is the solution? People are still going to think I fucked you for it.

I’m not handing it to you. You have to earn it.

Unbelievable . She shook with anger, and a deep, deep sense of disappointment. I can’t believe you .

Why is it unbelievable? You went to one of the best colleges in the country. The only reason you didn’t get snapped up after college like everyone else was because you allowed my father to make you think you were nothing without his name. I could put you in any position at this company and you would be too stubborn to fail, because that’s the kind of woman you are.

Jay stared at her phone.

In his twisted mind, he wasn’t meddling. He was removing barriers from her life to clear the road to—what, exactly?

Himself?

She could feel her anger rapidly draining away, even as she struggled to hold onto it. He really thought he was doing her a favor.

I’m a grown woman , she wrote. I don’t need you to manage me.

She glanced up at his office, but he didn’t respond.

*****

Not all transactions were quick and painless. How many times had he been absolutely certain that the deal was closed, only for the other party to get cold feet? Or worse: greedy. There were always more demands to be made, more money, more time, more everything , and he had gotten very good at saying “yes, and?” or “no, but.”

Regardless of what Jay thought, the interview with Arthur would work to her advantage. If his own conniving secretary could harbor such ambitions, why not Jay?

Her anger had lost its edge already. They had driven home in cold silence but she had grumblingly accepted his apology before disappearing into her room and closing the door—a dare, he thought, amused. He invited her to go out wine-tasting with him instead. The museum and dinner date had been a success, and he had enjoyed himself. She had, too. He could tell.

And that was good. He wanted Jay to enjoy spending time with him; he wanted her to need it.

When she had drunkenly begged him to fuck her after that date—to hurt her and make it feel good, god, did she have any idea what she did to him?—it had been hard to refuse. But he had, because he understood now what he hadn’t when he was young: that Jay was so married to her morals that she would destroy her own happiness as long as she got to believe she was good.

She would fuck him, and be his slutty girl for the night, and then she would accuse him of wanting her for her body and things would devolve into the same tired argument that they’d had so many times before because, yes, of course he fucking did, but he also wanted her .

And Jay did not think she was good enough to be wanted.

Birds chirped in the trees overhead and a breeze rifled through his hair. The picturesque vineyards and rustling cypresses formed a pastoral background that could have belonged in a children’s book, which was ironic, because his thoughts right now absolutely could not.

Jay was on the fourth wine in her tasting and he was watching her get increasingly flustered and silly and hoping she wouldn’t notice that the sleeve of her sweater had slipped down to bare her shoulder and the very low-cut neckline of her top.

“I forgot what I’m supposed to be drinking right now,” she said, “but it tastes like cherries.”

“It’s a rioja.” He took a sip from his own wineglass. “They all taste like cherries.”

“Not the one before,” she protested, a flush in her pretty cheeks. “That tasted like pears.”

She tilted her head back to watch the birds in the branches. One of them, drawn to their charcuterie board, got bold and fluttered right down on the table. He started to shoo it away, but Jay grabbed his bicep with a look of pure delight.

She just fucking lights up, doesn’t she?

“Oh my god,” she said. “Look how cute. It’s right there .”

“Yeah,” he agreed, focused entirely on the press of her fingers through his sleeve and the soft weight of her breasts through that lacy camisole. It looked like the one she’d been wearing beneath her sweater in San Francisco. When I made her cry. Guilt flared through him, hot and stinging. “So it is.”

“I think it’s a pygmy nuthatch,” she said. “I used to see them at the school. I missed them.”

“Give it a nut or something.”

“Okay!” She leaned over him to grab one of the seed-studded crackers and crumbled it, giving him a look down her top that had him taking a deep drink of wine while she flicked a few morsels the bird. It hopped back and eyed them both with a head tilt before plucking up a piece with an editorial chirp and flying back into the trees. “Off she goes.”

“You need to eat.” He slid the wooden board towards her. “You’ve got the voice.”

“What voice?”

“The one you get when you’re wasted.” The one you had when you begged me to fuck you. “And you’re losing your sweater.”

“ Shit. ” She yanked the sleeves back up her arms in a show of defensive prudery that made him chuckle.

“A little bit of tasteful cleavage isn’t going to get us kicked out, you know.” He slid his arm around her waist and squeezed. “I like it better when you’re not quite so buttoned up. Even when you’re mouthing off to me or talking about birds or cylinders.”

Or driving me insane.

“Mmm.” She let her head fall against his shoulder. Letting go of the sweater, he noticed as he traced his fingers over her soft stomach. “Mom always said I talked too much.”

“I think you talk just the right amount.”

She smiled at him. Then her face clouded. “I don’t think she ever loved me. I think all the things she said to me were just reasons she made up for herself for why she couldn’t.”

He forced his hand to relax as he reached for his wineglass, letting his other hand fall flat over the slight swell of her belly. “Well, she would know.” He kept his voice toneless. “No one was more unlovable than her, except for my father.”

Jay shuddered. “I never understood how you could stay with him. It was like he wanted to snuff out everything that was good in you and make you more like him.”

“I stayed because it was easy,” Nicholas said. “And then, later, I stayed because I liked seeing him slowly realize that I was going to take everything that he had built and destroy it.”

“Including who he wanted you to be,” Jay murmured. He looked at her sharply.

Oblivious, she stared up at the trees. “Michael took me here once. He kept telling me how pretty I was, and how perfect we were—like it was my face and your father’s money that made us work as a couple, and absolutely nothing else. And I hated him a little that day, Nick. I really did. Because the person he kept describing to me, the girl he thought he was in love with—the person he wanted me to be, who was uncomplicated and easy—sounded so vain and shallow.”

“Don’t take it personally. He only sees what his father tells him to see.” Nicholas set his glass down, still disturbed by what she’d said about him and his father. “I know where he works. We could run him over with my car.”

She laughed uneasily. “You’re such a bad person, Nicholas. You shouldn’t joke like that.”

“I’m my own person. Good or bad—it’s all subjective in the end. We’re what we make of ourselves.”

“Uh-huh,” said Jay. “That’s why you run your father’s business from your father’s house.”

“Let’s not talk about our parents.” He poured the remnants of her wine into his glass while she was distracted. “Tell me more about you.”

“Oh, you’re going to be like that?” Jay picked up a date and growled when he tried to take it from her. “Get your own.”

“Those have honey on them, you drunk nerd.”

“Honey’s not so bad. It helps the bees. Agave is bad for the rainforest, anyway.” She began chewing it, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “I forgot how you can be.”

“What?”

“I mean, you were always smart—that was clear in the way you used to lead your little group of friends around. But I didn’t realize you could be like this.” Her face shifted to a soft, sad expression that turned the wine bitter on his tongue. “It makes me want to say yes.”

His heart pounded. “Yes to what?”

“How are you doing over here?” their server interrupted, and he wanted to strangle her. “Are you ready for the next pour?”

Jay frowned and looked for her glass. Nicholas gave a brief shake of his head, letting some of his irritation show.

“Oh, uh, actually, I was wrong,” she stammered. “Looks like there are no more pours. But I can give you a small taste of dessert wine.”

“I thought there would be more,” said Jay.

“Not for you. Tell me more about what you were saying before.”

“I don’t remember.” She wiggled against him, like she hadn’t just fucked with his head and heart as casually as one might say the sky was blue. “Did you know that the barnacle has the biggest dick-to-body ratio of any animal on earth?”

Nicholas paused. “No.”

“Up to eight times their body length—that would be forty-eight feet in humans. Imagine that.”

“I am,” Nicholas said, in a warning tone she cheerfully did not heed.

“How many inches is that?”

“About five hundred and sixty-seven more than you’d know what to do with,” he growled, and she gave a little yelp as he pulled her onto his lap. “Stop teasing me.”

“Here’s your wine.” Their server blushed and looked away. “I’ll, uh, just set these both here on this side then?”

Nicholas wrapped his arm more firmly around Jay’s waist. “Perfect.”

When the other woman walked away, Nicholas leaned in to Jay’s face and kissed her pretty, wine-stained mouth hard enough that she squeaked. “You need to eat something before I take you home and sober you up.” He layered a piece of dried fruit over the crackers and pressed it against her lips. When they parted for him, the graze of her teeth against his thumb sent a shiver arcing down his spine, and he found himself watching her mouth with a frozen fascination.

There was no way she couldn’t feel what she was doing to him, sitting where she was, but she didn’t seem to care. And even though they were far from alone on this vast patio, she seemed content to remain on his lap with his cock nestled against her ass.

His throat grew tight and he knocked back his port, letting its fiery sweetness consume him and hoping it would wash away the images of things he could not do with a drunk Jay.

“Here,” he said, passing her the second, smaller glass.

“Oh my god, that’s so good.”

I know. And I want it all.

When the server came back, he handed her cash for the tasting and the tip, before asking for a bottle of water.

As they walked along the dirt road that led back to his car, Jay had her cold bottle pressed against her throat. Her other hand was in his. “That was nice,” she said guilelessly.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Trees formed a living tunnel over the path leading back to the crude parking lot. A dirt shoulder separated the tarmac from the property itself, though the owners had allowed it to become overgrown. Her sweater was dangling around her elbows, and the leaves were making patterns on her bare arms as the wind made her curls bob around her face in a way he found enchanting.

Jay’s head whipped towards the shrubs and bracken when a high-pitched whine filled the air, the satisfied, slightly sleepy smile disappearing from her face.

“There’s something in those bushes.”

“Probably a snake or something.” He tugged on her wrist and she lurched unsteadily in his direction. “Let’s get you to the car.”

“It sounds hurt .” Before he could stop her, she dropped her water and stumbled for the greenbelt.

Nicholas stared after her incredulously—“fuck”—before giving chase. Drunk Jay was surprisingly agile, and although he was faster than she was, she had a head start. By the time he caught up to her, breathing lightly with exertion, she was already stooping down, offering her hand to god-knows-what. “No,” he barked, making her jump. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s just a baby.” She bent to scoop up what appeared to be a mound of brown and black fluff. “It’s not even running away.”

The fluff uncurled, and he saw a face, two eyes, and a pink tongue. Somebody’s dog, he thought, though it looked too matted to be newly escaped. A stray dog , he thought, eyeing the puppy’s grotesquely large paws. And it’s not going to be a small dog.

Jay looked at him with a pleading expression that was so similar to the puppy’s that he almost laughed, but he’d just had his car detailed and getting a dog was not in his plans.

Jay lifted up a dirty paw and waved it at him.

“Please?”

(it makes me want to say yes)

His no died in his throat as he realized he couldn’t remember the last time she had directly asked him for something that he would be able to give her.

“Fine,” he said tightly. “Hold onto it. Both hands.”

He remembered his father saying, There are two types of women in this world. Those who will demand the world from you and those who will sit back and quietly accept their lot in life.

But Nicholas had never seen any woman smile at his father the way Jay smiled at him.