Chapter 3
It wasn’t that Connor was feeling better by the time he made it back up to the sixth floor office suite he left Nate in, but the coffee warmed him up enough to at least get through the rest of his morning. He shouldered the heavy wooden door open, balancing both cups as he did.
But the office wasn’t the same as he had left it only half an hour ago.
Right near the front door, next to the large picture window, was a desk. Large, L-shaped, stylishly made and stained an elegant mahogany. The same as the one he’d set up that morning for Nate.
It was nicer than he’d ever expected he might get to have.
“And I’ll have you on for the meeting with the board this afternoon. We need to introduce you, we need to show you off, our new Investor Relations director.”
Connor knew that voice, realization sending a cold chill down the back of his neck.
Isaac Berkshire.
Had he come down from the seventh floor to check on Nate after that investor introduction meeting? Or worse - had Nate complained about him? Put his name in to be reassigned? Connor wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Day one of your new job–your new job that your father likely secured for you–and your assistant is being insubordinate?
Yeah, Connor would have done the same thing if he was Nate.
He braced himself for what was to come, trying to become invisible so eavesdropping wouldn’t become just another charge levied against him.
“I look forward to being there. Two o’clock, right?” Nate said pleasantly. Connor can’t see him or Berkshire - they’re standing on opposite ends of the bookcase dividing up the office suite.
“Two o’clock. Have your assistant put it in your calendar.”
“I will. He’s–uh–running an errand for me now.”
Connor made himself busy by the time they circled around the bookcase to the front of the suite, already opening up his laptop and adding in that requested meeting.
Maybe he could save himself if he was proactive enough, handling the work without needing to be told.
But the longer their conversation went on, the more Connor realized that he wasn’t the one being discussed. Not really.
“This has been a problematic role for us to fill,” Berkshire said. “And our investors won’t tolerate inconsistencies at this time.”
“Right, of course.”
“We have high hopes for you in this role,” Berkshire continued. With the two of them standing so close together, the resemblance was clear. It should have been obvious at first sight, really.
Nate was darker in complexion, certainly, with almost jet black hair that grew in little curls and ringlets. But their height, their build, even the structure of their jaws was almost identical.
Berkshire could be handsome - well, he was. But Connor knew better than to look, and so he didn’t. But Nate is softer in his face, almond-shaped eyes round with youthful naivety in all the ways Berkshire’s resembled a snake’s.
And just like a snake, Connor was certain Berkshire could taste the air and sense his fear now just as he had weeks ago.
Connor pretended not to notice his expression change, shoulders as relaxed as he could manage while he typed up an email introducing Nate that would be sent to the other departments.
But he could tell Berkshire was watching him now, giving Nate a long look.
“Think about what I said, Nathan,” Berkshire told him. “All of Alarie’s resources are here for your success.”
And he clapped Nate twice on the back before striding past Connor, not even glancing in his direction on his way out.
And when the door closed behind him, Connor was alone with Nate once again.
He let out a slow breath, glancing over at Nate. His problem with no solution. The silence stretched on awkwardly between them, and he didn’t miss the way Nate’s face fell when he looked in his direction. Pained. Conflicted.
Good, some part of him thought. You’re embarrassed by my humiliation.
But he knew better than to act as petty as he felt.
“I brought you another espresso,” Connor said, passing the coffee over. Nate cradled the cup in his hands before taking a sip.
“Thanks. They, uh, brought your desk up.” He motioned uselessly to the desk Connor was already sitting at.
“I saw.”
For a moment, Nate said nothing. Neither did Connor.
Both men sipped their coffee, and Connor decided he didn’t dislike espresso. Normally he was making due with a cup of instant coffee, if he went for any at all. Hard to take a break most days.
Berkshire came down to check on you? Connor wanted to ask, but he didn’t. For how shitty his day was going, he couldn’t imagine Nate’s to be much better.
Not that he pitied him. Not that he could afford to.
“So how old are you, anyway?” Connor gave Nate a look over his mug, sipping his coffee. It wasn’t the kind of question he would ever ask under normal circumstances. Rude, prying, when he was meant not to notice, not to question.
But Nate surprised him by answering.
“I’m–uh–twenty-seven,” he said, like he couldn’t think to lie.
“Hm.”
Better than the kid in the elevator, he thought but didn't say. Only two years younger than Connor. It’d be fitting if he was coming in as an assistant, or even as a manager with an MBA. Connor didn’t even have that. He’d meant to–maybe it would have raised his chances–but most likely not.
Junie’s MBA hadn’t changed anything–but then, he couldn’t imagine Elle Thornton wanting to work with anyone else. She must have made it worth Junie’s while to stay down.
“Can I ask–” Nate started.
“I’m twenty-nine. I’ve been here for seven years,” Connor cut him off, knowing where this was going to go.
“Seven years,” he repeated. Connor nodded.
“That’s right.”
Nate bit the inside of his cheek, like he didn’t know what to say.
“That’s a long time.”
Connor shrugged his shoulders.
“It is,” he agreed.
“Why aren’t you a director yet? I mean- you could be doing this. You’ve got to be an IR expert after eight years.”
“My father isn’t the chairman of the board of directors.”
It was a low blow. Connor didn’t mean to take it there, but that was the truth. He decided to soften it, to be a little more forthcoming.
“I put my name in the hat. Even interviewed. Got told they were moving with a more experienced candidate.”
“Which I’m not.”
“No, you’re not.” He didn’t say it to be cruel, but it was the truth. Maybe Nate could be great at this role - one day. With some experience, some training. Not by being handed a chair and desk he didn’t earn.
Connor almost wished he didn’t feel so resentful. It felt childish.
Hell, if Nate had started out today as an assistant, just like him, just like Liam, then maybe Connor would have even liked him.
A long moment passed where neither of them spoke, Nate looking at the rug on the floor, frowning at something Connor couldn’t see.
He was probably planning out how to get rid of Connor, how to get him reassigned so he could bring in a new assistant who couldn’t see him for what he really was.
But Nate was the one to break the silence in the end, setting his coffee down and clearing his throat.
“What do you say we start over?” He suggested, clearly trying to sound friendly.
Connor could only give him a bemused look.
“What do you mean?”
And Nate stepped closer to him, offering his hand to shake. Connor stared at it like there might be a snake hiding up his sleeve, ready to strike if he were to reach out.
“My name is Nate Santos,” Nate said steadily.
“I did my MBA at Cornell, I was an intern at a VC firm for a year, and my father is Isaac Berkshire. I know that’s the only reason I’m here.
I have no idea what I’m doing. But I know you do.
I’ve only spent an hour with you, and I know that’s true.
What do you say we help each other out?”
“Help each other out?”
“Everyone has something they want, right?”
Connor didn’t answer. He knew exactly what it was he wanted, what he’d wanted for years.
And it had never felt less attainable than now. But to reveal that would have shown Nate his entire hand, so he only raised an eyebrow.
The silence seemed to make Nate uncomfortable.
“Look, I want to succeed here. I want to-” Nate looked like he’s struggling for the words. “I want to make a good impression. Get good results. Be worth the trouble. What do you want, Connor?”
Connor swallowed to wet his dry mouth, then decided for a sip of coffee instead. He hoped it would make him look unaffected.
“I want to be a director,” Connor said, somehow managing to keep his voice calm, modulated.
I want your job, he didn’t say.
And Nate nodded, not picking up on what Connor wasn’t putting down.
“That’s what I thought,” Nate said, still pushing his pitch. “And you said they’re looking to buy out Lou Simmons.”
“So they are.” What was Nate getting at, exactly? Connor frowned, crossing his arms.
“Right. I was looking him up, uh, in the directory,” Nate said, like it was obvious. “Corporate communications.”
For a moment, that easy confidence Nate wore seemed to flicker, cracking, revealing just a flash of uncertainty.
”Would you, uh, want corporate communications?”
Asked genuinely enough that it gave Connor pause. And he considered it for a moment.
Corporate communications. Mostly internal messaging, a bit of overlap with Public Relations. Elle Thornton was the Public Relations director–and while the thought of working closely with Thornton had Connor feeling apprehensive, he wouldn’t hate getting to work more with Junie.
But it wasn't Investor Relations. It wouldn’t be the role he’s wanted for almost a decade now. And it wouldn’t change the fact that Nate-
He doesn’t deserve it, a voice sneered in the back of his mind. You’re better than him. You know you are.
Why should he have to take Simmons’ old seat?
Why should Nate get to stay?