Chapter 12
For the most part, life after the Spring Forward Summit seemed to return to normal. The first week back was quiet solely because of Connor’s determination to keep it that way.
“You know, you’re only scheduling me for two meetings a day,” Nate pointed out on Tuesday.
“Yup,” Connor grunted. “You should be thanking me.”
“I brought you breakfast this morning, didn’t I?” The way Nate grinned had his stomach fluttering just enough that Connor cracked a small smile of his own.
Perhaps it was a little self-serving. Fewer meetings meant quieter mornings, and quieter mornings meant listening to Nate talk while Connor worked on some of his extracurricular projects, as he called them.
Lou Simmons was preparing to announce his retirement and after making an introduction at the afterparty, Connor decided to start preparing to put himself forward for the role.
Little peeks into his department, lingering in the break room on the first floor hoping he might be able to catch someone who could give him the right kind of information, all fueling a proposal Connor was writing.
Corporate Communications was a department that had long been lacking in a unified direction, between Simmons’ own tendency for outdated methodologies competing with his revolving door of assistants, but Connor had plans to take the department in a completely new direction.
Streamlined communications and approvals, simplified channels, cost savings into the tens of thousands in the first year alone.
All of this, he planned to lay out in a proposal he’d started writing.
“I’ll present it to Simmons before his last day. With any luck, he’ll approve it and recommend me to the board as his replacement,” he’d told Junie when they’d met for lunch at their usual poke bowl place.
“Hey, get him in a good enough mood, anything’s possible,” Junie smiled before dumping her avocado into Connor’s bowl.
She was in a good mood of her own today, and that made it easier for Connor to feel confident in his work–and his potential.
In this proposal lay every single one of his hopes for finally landing the director role he wanted. All he needed to do was impress them.
That wouldn’t be hard when he had Nate behind him, backing him up in every conversation, introducing him whenever they passed by members of the board.
“Have you met Connor Hayes?" He’d ask, dark eyes shining brightly. “If you’re looking for someone with great ideas, Connor’s your guy.”
Connor, of course, was ever at the ready with a polite smile and a firm handshake to follow up Nate’s introduction.
This was, after all, his end of the bargain.
Connor had done his part in helping Nate survive the conference.
Now Nate was doing what he supposedly did best, getting Connor in front of the right people, helping him make the right introductions.
Presenting him as someone whose name should carry a little more weight.
But then Nate would look back at him, and something in his smile would have Connor’s heart skipping a beat, his mouth running dry as he tried to keep from stuttering around his words.
Things between them remained unsettled since the Summit, since they’d spent the last night together. Neither of them had brought it up since, though he could tell Nate wanted to.
Connor only ever allowed for professional conversation between them, ignoring the way those dark eyes would follow him around the office suite, ignoring the way his lips would part around an unasked question, one that he was quick to silence before it could ever be given voice by bringing up one deliverable or another.
He could only do that for so long.
As much as he hated to admit it, Connor had really enjoyed himself with Nate. It wasn’t just that he was attractive, or that he gave good head. He made pleasant company. Too pleasant.
And Connor knew better than to let himself have company this pleasant. Not after what happened last time.
But he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. He couldn’t turn back the clock and undo what they’d done. He could wash away the evidence of it, but they’d crossed too many lines.
And rather than hate him for that, Connor found himself smiling more in Nate’s presence, keeping an eye out for him in the mornings as directors came down the hall.
Even in the evenings, where Connor had always held a strict boundary with himself to never allow work to consume him after hours, he couldn’t shake his thoughts of Nate.
Memories of the taste of his lips, the weight of his body, the girth of his cock in his hand-
These fantasies were fine enough for jerking himself off, but remained a problem when they wouldn’t disappear under daylight. Desire burned its flame until resolved–and Connor feared what resolving it might do to his sprouting seed of a chance of maneuvering himself to a better role.
God, he liked Nate–he liked Nate, but he needed… he needed to focus on his proposal, needed to ensure he looked and sounded his best when Nate brought him along to company lunches, setting up situations so Connor could answer a question from another department head.
And when Connor did, Nate's knee would brush his under the cover of a restaurant table, a delicate touch that said great job.
He could have stopped this at any time. He could stop it whenever Nate gave him that smile, lingered too long over his desk, praised him a little too enthusiastically to other Alarie heads–
But he didn't.
No, Connor liked it. He couldn't help the little thrill he got when Nate so much as said his name, told him, “You're really going to be a great director, you know that?”
There wasn’t any questioning it. Connor was going soft for Nate.
He felt it in his body whenever they were close, Connor standing near Nate’s desk as they worked together on a memo for department coordinators.
Like a magnetic pole drawing him even closer until arms brushed together, shoulders bumped, and he’d feel the warmth of Nate’s smile just from the corner of his eye.
“Not here.”
Connor had said that on Monday. Maybe it was more for himself than for Nate.
“Okay,” Nate said. “Not here.”
And he drew back, giving Connor his space once more though his absence was cold. Still, Connor wondered, if not here, where?
Maybe that was his way out, his way of keeping himself from repeating the same mistakes he always made. But then the week went on, and they still had to work together, didn’t they?
He couldn’t keep his distance in that office, not with Nate leaning over his desk to check in on his progress with a slide deck for an upcoming investor presentation, and Connor felt his body burn in response.
The sense memory of the feeling of Nate’s body atop his, hard erection impossibly hot against his own, pressed into the hotel bed by his weight haunted Connor, made all the worse by sheer proximity to Nate.
He knew the taste of this man’s desire, the weight of his cock in his hand.
He shouldn't know these things about his boss, but he did.
Those memories tormented him whenever he so much as caught a whiff of his cologne, or noticed the long lashes framing his eyes. Those eyes seemed to shine especially bright these days. Connor wondered if it was just for him.
Then again, it wasn't just Nate who seemed to walk through Alarie Inc. with more of a pep in his step day after day.
“You’re in a good mood,” Liam observed when he passed Connor in the hallway one morning. Not malicious, more an observation. Still, he reacted a little defensively.
“What makes you say that?” Connor asked, frowning.
“You’re smiling,” Liam pointed out. “Or, you were. Is something good happening in your department?”
“Not particularly,” Connor lied. “Just feels like a nice day.”
The overcast sky hanging overhead just outside Alarie Inc.’s headquarters would beg to differ. But Liam didn’t question him, taking Connor at his word.
He stole a glance around them before leaning in, nudging Connor with an elbow.
“Junie wanted me to tell you, she’s thinking about getting some of us out for drinks tomorrow. You in?”
“Hm?” Behind Liam, Connor caught sight of Nate rounding the corner, his jaw set. No doubt he was on his way to Berkshire’s office for a last minute meeting. Those were becoming more common these days.
Even if Nate didn’t want to admit it, Berkshire probably wasn’t calling him up just to spend time with his son. He always returned from these meetings a little harried, a little sensitive.
Hard not for Connor to notice–and he noticed far too much about Nate these days.
“Drinks. Tomorrow, Connor. After work,” Liam bit the side of his cheek, annoyed. “You coming? It’s a Friday.”
“Just drinks?” Connor asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I guess. I don’t really-” he cut himself off, making a face. “I was looking at the $3 beers, myself.”
“So that’s why Junie adopted you. You’re worse than she is.”
Maybe Liam would have had something smart to say, but his phone buzzed in three pulses, cutting him off.
“Fuck me. Just tell Junie if you’re coming or not. I gotta go. Ronny really thinks she’s going to get a last minute flight in first class to–”
“Ronny?” Connor crossed his arms and gave him a look, trying to straddle the line between playful scolding and fraternal advice. He wished he’d had someone like that when he was Liam’s age. “Don’t let her catch you saying that.”
But Liam just looked nonplussed, waving Connor off without a second glance. Whatever he had going on with Maria Ronaldo, Connor’s concerns over his use of an unsanctioned nickname were clearly at the bottom of his list of priorities.
Not that Connor could care more than Liam did about his own director.
No, instead he was left caring about his own far too much. And that was a problem.
It was going to be a problem.
There was no denying it any longer–he liked Nate, more than he knew was right. And it seemed like Nate liked him, too.
Fuck, that only made this harder. But the bandaid needed to come off. If this continued on, then that risked his job. Nate’s job. But, more importantly, his job.