1. Claire
1
CLAIRE
I rap three times on the wooden office door, my trembling fingers held tightly in my fist even after I let my arm drop back to my side.
I count to sixty as I wait—he always waits a full minute before he answers—and do my best to keep my breathing calm. Just as I mentally get to sixty, his deep voice booms through the thick door.
“Come in.”
I twist the knob, push the door open, and step into the large corner office. It’s brighter in here than it is in the hallway, thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The setting sun is filtering in, and the room is soaking up what’s left of that golden hour glow. The office where I work is thirteen floors below this one and a fraction of the size, but that doesn’t bother me. I’ve only been here for a year, and I’m confident that I’ll work my way up. Not to the CEO’s office, obviously, but executive creative director sounds really nice.
Eventually.
When my boss’s boss glances up from his computer, his blue eyes crinkle almost sympathetically. “Ah, Ms. Davis. I was expecting you.”
“Good evening, Mr. Henderson.” I greet him with a professional smile, my voice only shaking slightly. “I was wondering if you had a minute to discuss the MixMosaic campaign.”
The look he gives me is one of resignation. “You want to know why I gave Brandt Macy the team lead role.”
I nod. Just hearing it makes my stomach twist in a knot of anger and disappointment. The wound is still fresh, the blow having only been dealt a few hours earlier. I worked my ass off on that campaign presentation, only for the team lead position to be given to Brandt Macy (yes, those Macys), the most mediocre of mediocre trust fund white boys. He had absolutely zero hand in any of the creative process. It was all me. And yet, one call from Mr. Henderson to my boss had Macy usurping a role with a huge brand that should have been mine.
It’s upset me so much that I’ve vomited twice, and the only positive thoughts I’ve been able to muster have been gratitude that I keep a toothbrush at my desk and Xanax in my purse.
“I worked really hard on that branding presentation, sir. From conception to delivery, it was all me. I can recite MixMosaic’s numbers in my sleep, and they loved everything I did. They said they were extremely impressed with my work. My work, Mr. Henderson. With respect, sir, I should have gotten team lead, and I’d like to know why you called my boss and told him to give it to Brandt.”
He gives me a look like a father would give a daughter, and it’s hard not to shrink back into my repressed memories. I hate when he does this. He has a handsome face. Strong jaw. Salt and pepper through his light brown hair. Piercing blue eyes. He’s a very attractive man, but when he looks at me like this, all I see is my father. I have to practically beat back my impulse to submit. To go into people-pleasing mode.
But this is my career. My future. If I don’t advocate for myself, no one will.
“Ms. Davis, you know why I had to make that call.”
“I don’t, actually. You usually have no hand in anything that takes place in the creative development department. Never once have you intervened in the year that I’ve been here. I deserve to lead this campaign. I earned it.”
He sighs, but I refuse to back down.
I refuse until he stands, his six-one frame dwarfing mine, and he only seems larger as he closes the distance between us. When he’s mere inches from me, I hold my breath. If I smell his cologne, I’ll cave.
“Claire, I know you put a lot of time and effort into that presentation. I watched it, remember? Nights and nights of hard work. It was impressive. They were innovative and creative ideas, but you’re still a junior in the department, and Brandt Macy has seniority. ”
I shake my head, a frown pulling at my lips. “That shouldn’t matter when it was my work, and you know it.”
“It’s not fair. I agree.”
“Then, why?”
He gives me a sympathetic smile, then toys with the collar of my blouse. “We’re playing a dangerous game, my love. When this started, you said you didn’t want me to interfere?—”
“I didn’t want you to interfere in my progress. I didn’t want you to interfere with my success in the company. I didn’t mean I wanted you to halt my chances of rising in the ranks. I wanted to do it on my own merit.”
When he trails his knuckles over my jaw, my eyes flutter shut, and a sense of defeat starts to invade my mind. I’m going to lose this one.
“And what would people say if they found out? Do you want people saying you’ve received unfair advantages because of your connection to me? You don’t want to be known as a woman who slept her way to the top.”
I shake my head, and my heart sinks in my chest. My shoulders hunch forward. He’s right. He’s always right, but I try one last time.
“My work speaks for itself, Conrad.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “It does. And it will. You just need to be patient.”
He notches his finger under my chin and tilts my face upward. I open my eyes before he can tell me to, and then I’m locked onto his gaze, my resolve melting away with every soft breath fanned over my lips.
“You’re too important to me, Claire. I need to be careful, so I don’t lose you.”
I release my exhale slowly, his words washing over me like a rising tide. There’s enough time to save myself from drowning, but I don’t. I could love him. I might already. So I stay and convince myself I’m a strong enough swimmer to survive.
“Okay,” I whisper. “You’re right.”
When he brings his mouth to mine, I relent fully, letting him kiss me. I slide my palms up his buttery-soft bespoke suit and wrap my arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss, but then he pulls away. Too soon .
Once again, I’m left bereft and chasing a feeling that too often slips through my fingers.
“Will you be home when I get there?”
I force a smile and nod. “Yes.”
I’m always there these days. He smiles back, his beautiful blue eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that bolsters my confidence, and then he turns and goes back to his desk without another word.
I’ve been dismissed.
A phone rings in the darkness, and it rouses me awake.
When Conrad sits up, so do I, clutching the duvet to cover my naked chest. His voice, deep and commanding despite the rasp from sleep, fills the quiet room, and I listen. I study his body language and his tone of voice. As always, his words are clipped, and he gives nothing away.
“Hello? Yes, this is Conrad Henderson. I see. No, it’s fine. I’ll be by tomorrow afternoon. Of course.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye and places his phone on the nightstand. He lies down without acknowledging me, then turns his body so he’s facing away from me. I watch as his back moves with each inhale and exhale. His breathing slows, and when I’m sure he’s fallen back to sleep, I lie back down and attempt to do the same.
In the bathroom, I’m applying makeup when Conrad comes in to fix his tie in the mirror.
“I’ve made you coffee,” I say with a smile.
He grunts. “I told you to let the house manager do that.”
The house manager’s name is Edward. He’s essentially a live-in cook and maid. Conrad doesn’t like when I call him Edward; Edward doesn’t want me to call him Mr. Miller, and I refuse to call him the house manager , so I avoid talking about him entirely.
“I like making the coffee. It makes me feel useful.”
I’d make dinner, too, if he’d let me. Anything to help feel less like a visitor between these pristine, million-dollar walls. Eleven months and all I’ve gotten is a phone charger I leave by the bed, a few silk nighties hanging in the closet, and a designated place for my toiletry bag under the bathroom sink. I was disgustingly excited about the phone charger.
I realize how sad that is.
Conrad walks to the side of the sink that I use and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’ll be leaving after lunch today and will be gone for a few days. I have some business.”
I make eye contact in the mirror. “Is it about the call last night?”
“It is.”
“Are you going to tell me what it was about? I’d like to help, if possible.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Claire.”
I turn to face him and place my hands on his chest. He’s already in his suit, and I’m back in yesterday’s outfit.
“I want to help, Conrad. It must have been something serious to warrant a call that late at night.”
He purses his lips as his eyes bounce between mine. I slide my hands around his neck and lift myself onto the balls of my feet so I can press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to make us serious?” I say when I pull back, locking my gaze with his. Willing him to see how sincerely I mean every word. How much I want the dream he’s crafted for me. “You said you care about me, right? We can’t have a serious relationship if you don’t let me in. I can help, even if it’s just to share the mental load. Tell me, please.”
Conrad sighs, his shoulders dipping before he nods once. “Elizabeth has died. I need to go upstate to make arrangements.”
My eyes go wide. “Your ex-wife? What happened?”
“Her illness took a turn for the worse. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I can come with. I know how stressful this must be. Let me come, and I can?—”
“That’s unnecessary. How would it look if we were both absent? I’ll go alone.”
“But, Con?—”
“Claire, you will stay here. I just have to get ahold of my son so I can take care of the body, and then it will be done. I’ll be back Sunday afternoon at the latest.”
I blink. So he can take care of the body...
The. Not her body. The body. Detached and cold. She’s nothing to him anymore. It makes me sad for her, but I push it away.
“ What about a funeral?”
He chuckles, but it’s a dead, hollow sound, and a chill runs down the back of my neck.
“I won’t be funding a funeral. I’ll carry out her after-death wishes and then finally wash my hands of the thing.” He must see the horror on my face because his lips curve up into a soothing smile. “Eliza was unwell, and I’m glad she’s not in pain anymore. Maybe now, without the constant stress of her presence looming over us, you and I will be able to go public soon.”
I bite back the impulse to smile and stifle the spark of hope that ignites in my chest as shame washes over me.
Excitement over a woman’s death? A woman whom I’ve never met? It’s vile.
And anyway, Elizabeth Henderson’s death still doesn’t erase the main conflict shrouding my relationship with her ex-husband. Conrad is the CEO of the company where I’m currently employed, and I do not want anyone claiming I slept my way to the top.
He bends down and kisses me once more. It’s a soft, sweet kiss, and it calms the self-loathing swirling in my empty stomach. When he steps backward, his smile is kind, but the words he speaks next deflate any confidence I’d started to feel.
“You should hurry if you’re going to be at the office on time.”
Right. Because I still have to go back to my apartment to change since I have no clothes here. Since I’m not permitted to leave clothes here.
“I’ll see you when you get back.” I force a smile and walk toward the bathroom door. “Travel safely. I hope it goes...well...as smoothly as possible.”
“Thank you, my love. I will call you.”
When he looks back at the mirror, I leave. I grab my purse and shoes by the door and let myself out of the apartment, grateful that Edward isn’t around to witness my walk of shame. It doesn’t matter that it happens almost every morning. It still makes me feel dirty .
My relationship with Conrad is unconventional, but these discomforts are the price I pay for falling for my boss. No one would believe that I didn’t know who he was when we met. No one would care that I’m not using him to get ahead in my career.
I attempt to shove down my screaming insecurities. I try not to focus on what I used to want or see for myself. I tell myself that if I keep my head down and work my ass off, it will all pay off. I’m living in New York City and working my dream job. I tell myself that I’m fulfilled and happy. I tell myself it will be fine.
I say it, but I can’t make myself believe it.
Then, because I deserve the downward spiral, I grab my phone, open a social media app, and go to the profile I know will make me feel worse. I spend my commute to work scrolling through photos of happy faces, faces that once used to be as familiar to me as my own, and I let myself sink deeper into darkness.