Chapter 4 - The Stairwell ConfrontationRebecca slowly lowered the stack of proofs to her side. Her expression was completely unreadable, a blank slate that terrified me far more than any of her sharp corporate critiques ever could.
“Who are you on the phone with?” she asked, her voice echoing off the concrete walls.
I swallowed hard, clicking the mute button on my phone before sliding it into my pocket.
“Derek,” I admitted quietly.
Rebecca’s left eyebrow rose. A dangerous, lethal arc.
“And what was my idiot half-brother telling you?”
“That he may have dropped a hint to Sarah Jenkins about us,” I confessed, deciding that honesty was my only surviving lifeline. Lying to Rebecca Sloan was like trying to hide an elephant in a telephone booth.
Rebecca closed her eyes for a brief second, taking a long, controlled breath. When she opened them, there was a flash of pure, unadulterated frustration in her brown eyes.
“Sarah Jenkins already cornered me in the executive washroom ten minutes ago,” Rebecca said tightly.
My heart skipped a beat. “She did?”
“She asked if my sudden decision to make you the lead presenter for Apex Financial had anything to do with our ‘personal arrangements.’” Rebecca crossed her arms, clutching the proofs against her chest. “Do you have any idea what that means for me, Mason? In a company where people are constantly waiting to prove that I only reached creative director because of my family name or office politics, rumors like this are poison.”
“Rebecca, I didn't tell anyone,” I said, stepping closer to her, dropping all professional pretense. “You know I didn't. Derek is an agent of chaos; he does whatever stupid thing pops into his head.”
“I know it wasn't you,” she said softly, her voice losing its razor edge. She looked down at the concrete floor before looking back up at me. “If it were anyone else spreading these rumors, I would have HR launch an immediate investigation. But because it’s you... and because of what happened on Friday... my hands are tied.”
“Are you saying we should stop?” I asked, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
Rebecca looked at me for a long time. The harsh fluorescent lighting of the stairwell cast shadows across her face, softening the severe lines of her professional armor.
“I’m saying,” she whispered, stepping closer until only a few inches separated us, “that we have to be smart. In public, we are strictly boss and subordinate. In private... we figure out what this actually is.”
“And New York?” I asked, my voice barely above a breath.
Rebecca’s mouth curved into a slow, knowing smile.
“In New York, there are no office walls, Mason.”
May you like
Before I could process the sudden, electric jolt of heat that sentence sent through my veins, she turned around, pushed open the heavy metal door, and walked back up toward the executive suites.
She left me standing alone in the stairwell, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, realizing that I was already in way deeper than I could ever swim back from.
