Chapter 2
Reality sets in the next morning. And it comes with a vengeance.
“What do you mean you won’t be here?” I ask my boss, Simone, for perhaps the fifth time, because none of this is making sense.
“I need you to do the handover for River Rhodes,” she says, a finality in her tone, her stern voice coming through over the speakerphone, echoing in my office.
I slump back into my ergonomic chair, my legs tucked under my espresso-finished desk. The surface is mostly empty, except for my monitor and laptop, a plant someone gave me that I refuse to let die, and a framed picture of me and Gigi. My assistant, Tessa, sits across from me, her brow pinched.
I’m probably giving her back the same look.
We are both confused right now as Simone tells me she won’t be coming in today, and possibly tomorrow.
Which makes zero sense since the woman is a workhorse.
In my entire time at Harrow instead, she was asking me to send her a client update.”
“She hasn’t changed,” I say.
“I guess that’s good to know,” he says.
“So, can we get started?” I ask, ready to get this over with.
Luke furrows his brow. “Don’t you want to get lunch first?” He taps a finger on the simple printed menu in front of him.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him.
“Are you sure? Because if memory serves me correctly, you have a hard time working when you’re hungry.”
I hate that he remembers this about me. “I’m fine,” I say.
I’ll just have to hope the toast I ate in the car on the way to work this morning will suffice.
“Well, I’m hungry,” he says, signaling at a server standing a few feet away with a lift of his chin before focusing back on me. “And besides, it’s on the firm.” He gives me a little wink, and I scowl back.
“I’m kind of busy,” I tell him. This isn’t a lie. I had to set aside all of my own tasks for today to take this lunch for Simone. And who knows what else she’ll need me to do when I get back. And also, I’d like to be anywhere but here.
Luke ignores me completely, glancing at his menu as the server—a man with a top knot, wearing black pants and a white button-down shirt—approaches.
“What can I get for you?” the server asks.
Luke holds the menu up in front of him, his brows pinching as he studies it. He peppers the server with questions, trying to decide between the steak or the chicken, taking his sweet time, as if we have all day, before finally deciding on the fish. Typical Luke.