Chapter Nine
Dani
Monday morning rolled around, and as I made my way through the office, it occurred to me what the jolts of energy shooting up my legs and sticking in my chest were. I was nervous , which was ridiculous. I was just going to Ardena to drop off some symposium invitations for Jillian, who’d wanted to personalize a few before they were mailed. I’d sent out the rest with the office’s mail this morning.
The invitations going out made everything more real. The turning of a corner with no going back. This event was happening now, whether I got the signage, name tags, guest welcome packages, and a hundred other details finished or not. It was just a matter of what kind of experience the guests would have when they arrived.
That wasn’t why I was nervous, though.
He might not even be there , I reminded myself as I pushed through the main door of the building into the thick July heat. It washed over my air-conditioned skin with cozy warmth that quickly turned blistering. Hot waves radiated off the asphalt parking lot beneath my feet. The flutter in my stomach only grew with each step.
He probably wouldn’t be there. I was pretty sure Mondays had been one of Jase’s days off before Jillian roped him into catering the symposium, and now that the menus were finalized, I doubted he’d have a reason to be there an extra day.
But he might.
And that possibility alone was enough to send me over the edge.
The edge of what, I wasn’t sure. Just that after our conversation last week, I hadn’t been able to stop picturing his eyes as he said, “I wouldn’t call that a mistake,” or the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he crossed them over his chest. Or his lips—those fucking lips—as he’d smirked at my demands.
I’d imagined those lips on a dozen different places along my body since, from my throat to my toes with some notable stops in between. Just the thought had my stomach clenching and my body growing warm in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this horny.
And okay, not all of me loved that it was Alec’s older brother I was lusting over, but it’d been so long since I’d felt this kind of attraction to anyone that a bigger part of me desperately wanted to enjoy it. It wasn’t like I was going to tackle him and start humping his leg. I just wanted another glimpse of his chiseled jaw and to see his hands glide across a cutting board.
His hands were…yeah.
I was so caught up dreaming about them that I almost missed the scrap of paper on my windshield. At first glance, it looked like a ticket, but this was HBC’s lot, and my car was where I always parked it.
I snatched the folded white paper from under the wiper. Nothing on the outside.
I flipped it open and read the words scratched inside.
My blood froze, my skin going cold. All of me went still except for my heart pounding in my ears as I read the note again.
Then I spun from my car and ran back inside.
The death threat lay open on Talia’s desk, the words glaring up at me, tracking my movements as I paced back and forth across her office. Nausea churned my stomach, climbing its way up my throat. Mr. Fisher—Geffery, he’d told me to call him—was here too, discussing the best course of action with Talia.
I couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t just the note. It was that it had been left on my car. That whoever left it knew which car was mine in the first place. That they had been bold enough to do this in broad daylight.
Did they know where I lived? Would they follow me home? Try to hurt me?
What about the office? I’d read articles about nonprofits like ours across the country being attacked. Gasoline poured under their doors and ignited with people inside. Stink bombs set off in the ventilation systems.
Shootings.
Was this how those had all started? With hate mail and a note on a windshield?
I shook out my hands to try to get them to steady, but they wouldn’t. Instead, I clenched them into fists, pulling in short breaths as I attempted to take in what Geffery was saying.
“There were no other notes on anyone else’s car. It does appear as though they targeted Dani specifically.”
“Can we take it to the police?” Talia asked, the two of them standing around her desk, hovering over the note.
“We can, but it’s not much for them to go on. Even with the rest of the hate mail coming to the office, I wouldn’t expect the cops to be able to do anything.”
Talia nodded firmly. She was as steady as the brick building we stood in, eyes narrowed in concentration, perfectly in control. I was pretty sure her calmness was the only reason I hadn’t passed out.
“Then we prioritize Dani’s safety until things cool off.” She trained her gaze on me, where I continued to pace in the corner of the room. “How would you feel about working from home until after the symposium? You’ll come into the office for certain meetings, and we’ll have Geffery escort you to and from your car, but you don’t need to be here the rest of the time.”
My eyes jumped from her to Geffery and back. “You think it’s safe there? My apartment?” I didn’t even try to hide the tremor in my voice.
“The fact that you haven’t gotten any hate mail there makes me think whoever did this is only focused on the office,” Geffery said. “They probably were here this morning planning to do something like graffiti the side of the building and saw you get out of your car. I’m guessing they made a last-minute call to leave the note, then ran. That said, you should stay on alert for a week or two. Let me know if you see anything strange around your place. I’ll file a report with the police to be on the safe side, and we can update them if you notice anything suspicious.”
I nodded, more from reflex than from comprehension, as my body went numb. Something landed on my upper arms, and I jumped.
“Dani. Dani .” Talia was in front of me, gripping my biceps to hold me steady. I hadn’t even noticed her move. “You don’t have to do this. We can cancel the symposium. It’s not worth your safety.”
That shook me a little from my panicked haze. I furrowed my brow. “We can’t cancel. We need the money from the symposium to open the clinic.” And the invitations had already gone out.
“We’ll get it next year. Let things calm down fully and try again.”
She was serious. Her gaze was as steady as the rest of her, expression resolved.
A fuse of rage lit its way down my spine. “ No ,” I said forcefully. “You can’t cancel because of this. I won’t let us be bullied into giving up on the good this clinic can do just because people like Bill Sewick would rather spout ignorance.”
Talia released my arms and straightened, studying me. “Are you sure? Because the board would understand.”
I shook my head, my body settling somewhat back into itself. “Don’t go to the board. I’m sure. I’ll work from home. I was just freaked out, but if Geffery thinks it’s okay, then I’ll do it.” I pushed every ounce of confidence I could muster into my voice, my determination enough to suppress my fear, at least for the time being.
It must have worked because Talia’s shoulders lowered. “All right. We’ll move forward with it. But only as long as you’re sure.”
I almost laughed. There wasn’t a single thing about my life I was sure of. Not my career choices or the number of times I’d moved because of them. Not my decision to break up with Alec and not reach out to him again in the months after. Not my college major, or quitting drama club in high school, or picking clarinet over the flute in the fourth grade. Hell, not even my nail polish selection.
I didn’t know if I was sure about this. It was possible I didn’t know how to be sure about anything.
But that same reckless confidence that had unraveled in me during the interview was mounting within me again, silencing all the voices in my head that were throwing out doubts. Maybe it was my gut, or maybe it was just bad judgment, but if it was what I needed to grab hold of in order to see this event through, then that was what I’d do.
This symposium was happening.
No matter what.