11. Cora
Chapter eleven
Cora
T he towering skyscraper looms above me, its glass exterior gleaming in the harsh morning sun. Though it’s barely nine, the heat is already oppressive, the kind that clings to your skin and makes the air feel thick and sticky. A bead of sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades.
My power outfit—a sleek black skirt, a cream blouse that feels a little too warm under the sun, and black stilettos that make my legs look longer but are already pinching at my toes—does little to ease the anxiety fluttering in my stomach. The butterflies have turned into a full-on swarm, their wings beating frantically as I stand at the entrance of the glass and steel monolith.
As I step through the revolving doors, the temperature drops and the rush of the city fades away. I’m greeted with crisp, cool air, muffled discussions, and the faint scent of expensive coffee drifting from a café tucked into the corner. This is where I’ll start fresh, where I’ll leave behind the past ten months and dive back into what I do best.
“Hi! I’m Cora. It’s my first day at Hayes no more hot-desking since the pandemic,” Nathan says, rolling his eyes. “The open plan thing is supposed to encourage collaboration. Only department heads have offices.”
“And the big bosses?”
“James and Dameon? You won’t see them often, and that’s a good thing,” he says, widening his eyes. “The only time you’ll have to endure their presence is at the monthly town hall.”
“What’s that?”
“A company-wide meeting where one of the big bosses updates everyone. It’s supposed to foster unity or something, but it’s mostly a waste of time,” Nathan says. “Oh, and please—since you’re here to work on company culture, do us all a favor and change how new employees are introduced. It’s brutal.”
“That bad, huh?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You’ll find out in”—he checks his watch—“half an hour.”
We reach my workstation, and Nathan hands me a folder. “The login details and everything else you need are inside. Take your time getting settled in. I’ll be back for you before the town hall. My desk is just over there if you need anything.” He points to a spot a few desks down from mine.
“Thanks so much, Nathan. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me yet—I’m about to lead you to the slaughter in thirty minutes,” he quips.
I groan and mutter, “Gee, thanks,” under my breath as he walks away.
Nathan must have superhuman hearing because he throws his head back with a laugh and sings out, “You’re welcome!”
Sliding into my chair, I store my purse in the drawer then log into the computer. Looking around the office, I see people sipping coffee, typing, or chatting by the couches. Everyone seems relaxed, not stressed out or rushed like you’d expect on a Monday morning. It’s a far cry from the hostile work environment I anticipated. But there must be something going on beneath the surface. Especially if they needed to hire someone to improve company culture and perception. I make a mental note to pick Nathan’s brain about what’s really happening behind the scenes. He seems down-to-earth and genuine. I could use a friend to help navigate office politics.
A ping from my office messenger catches my attention.
Nathan Ready to go, lamb chop? Town hall awaits. Meet you at the lifts in two mins.
Cora Lamb chop?
Nathan Lamb to the slaughter? Not a fan of that kids’ show?
Cora Pretty sure I’m not old enough to remember it.
Nathan What? Lamb Chop’s an icon and so freaking cute!
Cora Umm, okay…
What a weirdo—but I kinda love it. Smiling to myself, I log off and head to the lifts to meet Nathan.
We enter the auditorium on level thirty-six, and Nathan guides me to the side of the stage. The space is huge, with plush red velvet seats arranged in steep, theater-style rows, creating an atmosphere that feels more like a high-end cinema than a corporate meeting room. When the last few stragglers arrive to find their seats, Nathan gives me the rundown.
“Okay, Rossi, when I introduce you, just keep it short and sweet. Don’t expect a warm welcome from everyone,” he warns.
Nathan strides to the center of the stage, his voice booming as he welcomes the crowd. “Good morning, everyone. Hope you all had a great weekend. Tina is off sick today, so I’ll be introducing our new employee, Cora Rossi, before handing over to James for the monthly update. Cora will be working closely with me as our new senior public affairs specialist. Please make her feel welcome.”
He motions for me to join him on stage. My heart skips a beat, but I force my legs to move with as much confidence as I can muster. Standing beside Nathan, I project my voice as loud as possible, keeping my message short and sweet like he suggested. “Thank you, Nathan. I’m really looking forward to meeting all of you and working together.”
Public speaking doesn’t usually faze me, but the sea of blank faces staring back offers no warmth, making the moment feel like an eternity. I can practically feel the walls closing in around me.
Sensing my panic, Nathan steps in to fill the silence. “I’m sure we’ll all make her feel welcome and part of the team,” he says, glancing off to the side. “Great. James is here now to take us through the monthly update.”
We retreat to the side of the stage, and I whisper to Nathan, “Well, that was fucked.”
“Yes. Yes, it was,” he deadpans.
My relieved chuckle dies on my lips when my eyes lock onto a man staring at me—dark eyes that look so much like my son’s.
Oh no.
Please, no.
Oh God, no.
My heart stops. Blood drains from my face and the world around me sharpens and blurs all at once.
Jonathon is glaring at me from the other side of the stage, a storm of emotions raging across his face—confusion, anger, disgust. My knees go weak.
He’s the first to break eye contact, striding across the stage and commencing his update in his clipped American accent. But I can’t tear my eyes away from him. Here, under the harsh fluorescents of the auditorium, he looks different to how he appeared on Saturday. But his presence is just as commanding, if not more so. The dark fabric of his tailored suit highlights his broad shoulders and lean physique. This time though, his black hair is neatly slicked back, and his sharp jawline is clean-shaven. This man was deep inside me less than forty-eight hours ago, his body intertwined with mine. I can still taste the salty, earthy flavor of his cum on my tongue, feel the roughness of his stubble against my thighs.
The room empties around me, but I’m frozen, the sounds of shuffling feet and low murmurs fading into a dull roar in my ears. I didn’t hear a single word of his speech, too lost in the shock of seeing him again.
Nathan’s voice slices through my daze like a lifeline. “Cora, are you okay?” he asks. “You’re white as a sheet. Do you need to sit down?”
Before I can answer, Jonathon—or James, I suppose—cuts through the crowd like a predator homing in on its prey, his glare locked on me with an intensity that makes my blood run cold. My heart hammers against my ribcage, each beat more frantic than the last as he closes the distance between us. An unreadable look flickers in his eyes, one that sends a chill down my spine and roots me to the spot.
When he stops just inches from me, the air thickens, as if the entire room were holding its breath. “Follow me,” he commands. There’s no question in his voice—only an ironclad expectation that I’ll comply.
Every instinct screams at me to run, but I can’t. I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t think beyond the overwhelming presence of him—this man who holds my past and now, somehow, my present in his hands.
Nathan’s eyes dart between us. He mouths, What the fuck? but I’m already gone, my feet moving of their own accord as I follow James out of the auditorium.
My legs struggle to keep up with his long, purposeful strides. I’m half-jogging, my heels clacking on the polished floor, my breath shallow. The walls of the hallway blur around me.
What the hell is happening?
My mind races, trying to piece together some semblance of reason, but nothing makes sense. Not the way he’s acting, not the urgency in his steps, and certainly not the dark look in his eyes.
All I know is I’m following a man who was supposed to stay buried in my past, a man who’s now much more than just a memory. As he leads me down the hallway, away from the safety of prying eyes, a cold dread claws at my sanity.