Quit Me If You Can

12. Kennedy

12

KENNEDY

TUESDAY

W hen I return to the office the next day, I feel refreshed. Determined. I don’t bother to give Cade the cold shoulder, and I don’t go out of my way to strike up a conversation with him either. Casual and not caring—that’s the new me.

And it’s working! The sun seems to shine brighter, and despite the din of drills, the clatter of hammers, and the constant shuffle of construction workers in the halls and offices, everything appears lighter and cheerier. Incredibly enough, so are the walls around me! It’s like the universe listened and delivered immediately—for once. Ha! I love how the halls are transforming with the new colors. It’s a light oyster gray with a hint of warmth from the deep teal accents. It really brightens up the space while keeping things classy and is set off beautifully by the parquet flooring.

Even the Tuesday morning meeting goes without a hitch. Mr. Dahlberg doesn’t so much as glance my way, thank goodness. When Cade strides into the room, all eyes are on him. Without missing a beat, he dives right into the high-stakes case of Humphries v. Ecclestone, which seems to be one of the most critical (not to mention most lucrative) cases the firm has taken on. In essence, Humphries is suing Ecclestone for fraudulently modifying the terms of the contract and misappropriating profits from a $1.1 billion high-rise mixed-use development project they were both involved in. I know, $1.1 billion! That’s insane money. I researched it for the case, and there are several projects in NYC that have surpassed the billion-dollar mark in core construction costs. There’s the Hudson Yards development, the One World Trade Center complex, the Park Avenue Tower, and the massive One Vanderbilt building. Oh, and the sleek new Steinway Tower. All of them came in at well over a billion. It really puts into perspective the financial caliber of clients G&G is handling. The preliminary hearing is just around the corner, and their focus is entirely on that. I make sure to soak in every detail as Cade shares his initial strategy ideas for the upcoming showdown.

My mood only improves as the day goes on. Settled into a perfect workflow, absorbed in calling the contacts Mary provided and documenting information, I find that the evening arrives in a snap. It’s not until silence surrounds me that I realize everyone else has already gone home. The offices outside the paralegal office are as dark as the sky outside my window.

Just as I’m gathering up my things to leave, my cell rings.

“Hey,” I answer, the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder.

“Working hard?” Harper asks. “Or hardly working?”

“I’m in a deserted office. It looks like I’m the last one here tonight.”

“Oh, really? You know what that means.”

“It’s my job to pick up some wine on the way home?”

“Ha! That too. But you’re still on the hook for the bet you oh-so-willingly signed up for.”

Oh. Damn.

Standing over my bag and stack of papers, I can’t recall ever feeling this much regret about a promise. “Seriously, Harper? Really ?”

“You’re the only one left in the building, duh . What better time to do it?”

“Oh… maybe, never?” I shake my head. “What if I get caught? That’d be a horrible way to lose a job. I don’t think anybody would ever hire me again if they thought I had some weird fetish for leaving my panties on the boss’s desk.”

“Are you kidding ? That would make you a shoo-in for most male bosses.” She cracks up laughing. “And don’t forget the note. Come on, chicken . You pinky-promised. You can’t break a pinky promise. We both know you’ve been acting tough with all this crap about working for your ex,” she continues, arguing her point when I stay silent. “This is exactly the random risqué thing you need to cheer yourself up. We’ll laugh so hard about it when you get home, it’ll be totally worth it. Don’t think of it as a bet. It’s a prank!”

I can see it so clearly. Me rushing in our front door after the fact, still reeling with adrenaline. Harper standing right there, and both of us collapsing on the couch with one of those laughing fits that are so big and good they make your face and your stomach cramp until you cry. I haven’t had one of those in a while.

Heck, yeah. Maybe it is just the thing I need.

“Okay, how about this? I’ll do it, but not in his office. It’s way too extreme. I don’t want to get fired. Or give him the wrong idea about how I feel.”

Harper goes silent for a moment, then offers an alternative. “He has to be high up, or it won’t count. Not just anybody, got it? Who’s the second-hottest bigwig?”

I think about it for a moment and only one other person comes to mind. “Soren Dahlberg, one of the senior attorneys on the team. He’s well respected and he works right under Cade. He’s a bit older, but technically he’s still my boss. His office is right next to Cade’s.” I sink into my chair, contemplating the idea. “I don’t know him very well. He gave me a hard time when I first started. To be honest, I think he’s a bit of a dick.”

“Perfect! Even better, K! He deserves to get pranked. The dick.”

“All right, fine,” I say. “I’ll do it. But if I get fired on account of this, you’re paying rent all on your own for the next six months.”

“I’m prepared to burrow into my savings to make this happen,” she agrees. “Relax, chica. I’m pretty sure you won’t get fired. If anything, you’ll get promoted! Remember, you’ve got to take a picture of it. As proof. Send it to me when you’re done.”

Heaving a sigh, I end the call and scan the office once more to make sure I really am alone. I scribble down the note my goofball roomie came up with. It immediately brings back all those mixed feelings about Cade. My stupid body still has a thing for the jerk, unbelievably, I know. That note would definitely be more appropriate on his desk than on Mr. Dahlberg’s.

But tonight, I’m quicker than ever to shove down all that emotional baggage as I slip my lipstick into the pocket of my pencil skirt.

With another careful glance around the offices and surrounding hallways, I sneak past the unoccupied secretary’s desk toward the corner offices where the heavyweights work. The double doors have been removed, which is perfect because it means everything is unlocked. Only plastic tarps cover the doorways.

The only downside is that it also means there aren’t any name plates on the “doors,” but I don’t think I could ever forget which room I was shoved into for that first interview with Cade.

There’s Cade’s office, and right next to it, Soren Dahlberg’s.

I slip under the tarp into Mr. Dahlberg’s office, flicking on the light switch as I go. Getting caught with the lights on would seem far less damning, I think, plus, I need to see what I’m doing. I move towards his desk with cautious steps, the glow of the warm overhead light casting long shadows across the room. Sweet baby Jesus, Harper, the things you make me do!

My fingers are trembling, my cheeks grow red-hot, and my heart is pounding when I come to stand in front of his black desk. I apply a fresh layer of lipstick and press my mouth to the note, leaving a perfect lip print to sweeten the deal.

Now for the hard part. I hike my skirt up and pull my panties off.

Voilà. There they are.

A second later, I’ve readjusted my clothing, and the note, along with my lace panties, confidently graces Mr. Dahlberg’s desk.

Perfect.

All that’s left to do before fleeing the scene of the crime is take the photo Harper requires as proof. I reach for my phone. But a dark deep voice behind me stops me cold.

“Can I help you?”

Oh no!

I shriek and whip around to see Cade standing there—smirking, with his arms crossed.

Oh, my god… please tell me this isn’t happening.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I back up against the desk, trying and failing to hide the lace-edged evidence of my “tiny” transgression.

He stares at my panties, which must somehow be shining like a beacon, and then back at me.

Dear god. This is so freaking bad. Worse than bad! Floor, please just open up and swallow me whole.

“Cade!” I try in vain not to panic. “Uh… no, I don’t need any help. Not from you. I’m just… leaving something for Mr. Dahlberg.”

“Mr. Dahlberg?” He walks closer, looking over my shoulder to see what else I’m hiding. “On my desk?”

“ Your desk?”

“Yes, my desk. Mr. Dahlberg’s office is next door.” He tips his chin toward his left.

Crap on a cracker.

Isn’t that just my luck.

Of course I’m in the wrong office.

Here I am dead set on proving to Cade—and myself—that he means nothing to me, and that I can rise above everything, and just when I am hitting a good stride? This.

That damn office remodel is wreaking more havoc on our strained relationship than I could have ever thought possible.

“Oh… I see… My mistake. Haha,” I say, letting out a weird, nervous laugh. “I’ll just… um, get out of your way then. So sorry for the mix-up.”

I scramble to snatch away the evidence, but Cade’s hand flies up to stop me.

“Leave it,” he orders me.