Chapter 11 #3
The second I stepped out of the elevator at Dupont Digital Dynamics, I felt the stares—too casual to be casual.
My body moved on instinct, muscle memory dragging me toward my desk as if I’d never left.
Ross’s voice bled in: “Routine, chunk large tasks, anchor yourself.” When I reached a desk in the center of the office, my email signature flashed in my memory: Associate Creative Director.
If these things were mine, they’d look familiar, the way things at the house did.
I glanced around until I spotted the office with the matching title.
I stepped into that office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a stunning view: a peek of the lake in between bold skyscrapers.
Against the sterile, impersonal desk, the soft pink of my shirt stood out.
This time, I had a purpose beyond design and money. Nina.
The door creaked open, and there stood Carmen as I turned around, with her hands on her hips, dressed in a form-fitted sweater dress and knee-high boots, wide belt cinching her waist. She had that edgy I’m good and I know it air to her.
“Cute office,” she said, eyes skating over the mock-up photos and sterile furniture. “Very … creative decor for our creative director. I guess leading by example is your motto.”
I sat and leaned back, measuring her intentions. “I reached out. You never responded.”
Her grin was all teeth. “I chose to help Nina first. She needs more clients, wouldn’t you agree?”
Thinking of Nina’s apartment, I rolled my head, neck cracking under the movement. “There was a slide deck on the team’s cloud, and now I can’t find it anymore. I need it.”
Carmen circled around the desk and stood by the windows.
The glow of the rising sun gave her the edge of some kind of corporate warrior.
Looking over her shoulder at me, she smirked.
“I’m sorry, it sounds like you’re telling me what to do.
” She turned to face me, hip cocked on one side.
“I should make myself clear: I will help you whenever I decide the time is right.” She ran her fingers through the strands of hair that had fallen from her bun.
“In the meantime, you should ask your little lackey about it.”
I eyed Carmen. Her gaze was fiery, daring me to complain about these terms she hadn’t even mentioned.
“I’ll tell you this: files don’t disappear.
People change them, move them, hide them, pretend to forget about them …
. There’s always a trail. I bet Nasty Tasha could help; you’d just need to, you know, keep your enemies closer, if you can stomach that. ”
I examined her carefully, then gave her my dimpled smile. “Or you could just give me the file, you know, as a favor.”
She laughed, a strange sound manufactured to pretend casualness, but it was pure calculation.
Twirling her necklace around her index finger, she pulled a thumbdrive from between her cleavage.
“Cashing in favors this early on?” She sat on the corner of my desk, claiming my territory with her movements.
“Sure, I could.” Carmen held the drive between her fingers.
“But you don’t even know the right questions yet.
Who moved the file, who had second thoughts, who came up with it—answers like that don’t come in a neat deck. ”
Carmen’s eyes shone with anticipation. The implication was clear: it’d been deliberate. I’d need those answers for Nina, for me. Was this what I’d done?
The uneasy feeling of those moths in my stomach flapped awake, gouging me from the inside out.
Natasha hadn’t texted or emailed about Nina’s presentation for Infinity Weddings.
Anything regarding Nina’s firing had been discussed hush hush, in person, so there’d be no trace. Not a good sign for Nina. Or me.
My shoulders tightened. “She won’t tell me anything now. I kicked her out of my house.”
Carmen dragged a fingertip along the edge of my desk, nails metallic green, leaving trails on the faint dusty surface as if she’d just tagged my space.
She met my stare head-on, daring me. “Play Natasha. Keep her close.” She tilted her head, the words dropping slow.
“Come on, Lincoln. Wouldn’t be your first time toying with someone. ”
The tension coiled in my throat again, winding tight until heat pricked my skin and my shoulders knotted. I didn’t mind playing the viper after what she’d said, not one bit.
But would Nina? I did mind playing the version of me that left her in knots and flinching.
I’d been asshole Lincoln for years, and since the accident …
, I’d been building distance between him and me, especially for Nina, so letting him seep back in was risky.
Nina needed assurances that there was a firm line between past and present me.
Carmen smirked. “Oh, boy, you have it bad, don’t you?”
I sat up, leaning on the desk. “If you’ve got something to say, say it straight.”
She clicked her tongue. “Look, you do whatever, but if you want to dig, really dig …, you may not be able to keep yourself clean. Natasha’s just your loudest problem.”
She stood, scanned the office one last time, and headed for the door.
Before stepping out, she turned. “I love the bones of this office,” she said, eyes glinting.
“I have a plan, Lincoln. So carefully designed, it could be one of your little drawings. We’re handling it my way.
You don’t get to back out if something rubs you the wrong way.
” She opened the door, waved, and added, “Bye-bye.”
Her presence lingered—her smirks and hints thickening the air.
Nina had shouldered the Infinity Weddings’ presentation flop.
There wasn’t much I could do without my memories.
Files gone. Clues dangling. Natasha would be key.
I’d have to play the part, dig through the mess, follow every breadcrumb.
Show Nina I saw her. Nina was the point.
Everything else was just noise. I could play Natasha; it’d be on my terms, though, not my past’s.
I walked into the strategy room eight minutes before the weekly meeting.
I’d read notes of the ones I’d attended and those I’d missed while on leave because I didn’t want to give off more idiot vibes than I already did in this polo.
I glanced at the open seat next to Carmen but took the seat next to Natasha.
She screeched with joy, squeezing my forearm.
“That’s an … interesting choice for the office,” she said, throwing her lip up at my shirt.
I smirked. “I think pink is my color, don’t you?”
She huffed, eyes narrowing. “Bold. Not really your usual … image.”
I leaned back, dimples sharpening. “Maybe I’m expanding my brand.”
Her eyes widened as she studied my face, and she must have found something convincing because she leaned in until her tits pushed against me so hard I felt the padding in her bra. I had to fight the urge to push her away.
Before she could snake her arm around me, I grabbed her wrist. “We’re not clubbing here, you can’t fuck your way into relevance.”
She glanced at the conference room, pulling away immediately.
“Oh, Linc.” She exhaled, placing her hand on my thigh.
“You know exactly how well I can do that.” Her tone turned sultry.
Thankfully, she retreated her hand before I threw up on her.
“I’m glad you’re back to your charming self.
” Her tone snapped to normal. “You’re going to have to make up for kicking me out, hun. ”
“What can I say? I’m a delightful bastard.” I pushed the disgust down my throat and winked at her. Then I lowered my voice. “Especially, given that whole Infinity Weddings situation …”
Natasha’s eyes glazed over with maliciousness. “So, you do remember?”
I shook my head. “Not everything.” That should give me some kind of cover.
“Oh, Linc,” she whispered, “it was unfair to let you deal with that mess on your own.” Her thigh brushed mine under the table. I curled my hands into fists and crossed my legs. “I have something in mind. Isn’t it great to be back?”
I nodded, my eyes meeting Carmen’s. Her expression was set in a neutral scowl, but the smallest nod showed her approval that I’d decided to play along.
Natasha laughed—it was brittle, too high-pitched.
As much as it was not good to be back, if Natasha was cooking something, I needed to keep her away from Nina.
Finally, the CEO, Curt Dupont, walked into the room.
Before he’d even taken his seat, he called the meeting to order with clipped efficiency, but all eyes slid toward me when the first agenda item landed on the table: campaign timelines.
Curt had made sure earlier in the day that I was up to running point.
I’d have appreciated it if I didn’t think the guy was a douche and fired Nina without batting an eye.
I didn’t falter. My team presented on each project, and I was able to fill in the blanks, streamline processes, and identify weak handoff points. My voice was steady. Assured. It felt good—foreign but right—to stand in my seat as creative director, not just a man clawing for fragments of his past.
Carmen lounged back in her chair, pencil rolling between her fingers, smirking. Natasha was loving every second, as if my wins were hers, glossy hair catching the light, lips pursed in faked concentration.
“Speaking of streamlining, Curt,” Carmen purred, “you might want to look at client attrition. The weekly rate has certainly skyrocketed. They’re all falling into your former employee’s hands. Nina Reyes.”
The sound of her name could have been that of a stone dropped in the middle of the glass table.
George from accounting adjusted his glasses and tapped at his tablet, pulling up numbers. “She’s right,” he muttered, brows knitting. “Six small contracts in the last week, and four larger clients. Individually small, but the trendline’s concerning. If it continues—”
“The issue with the original pitch must have been misjudged,” Carmen finished smoothly, eyes cutting to me, daring me to flinch.
“I already told you, sweetheart,” Curt said, “use that pretty head of yours to make us money and leave that woman to rot. Stop bringing her up.”
Carmen pursed her lips, and closed her notes, pencil tapping twice on them.
Natasha smiled, her eyes crossing briefly with Curt’s.
She didn’t bother hiding how she loved that—Nina being belittled.
Natasha might be spinning something, but this time I was watching out for Nina, even conjuring asshole Lincoln so I could keep Natasha away from her.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted, my head pounding—not in a bad way, just in a finally feeling-useful way. As I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, Natasha was waiting. She fell into pace beside me, trying to wrap her arm through mine, but I stopped her.
“Natasha, get your hands off me.”
I’d play up the Lincoln she wanted to see to get information and protect Nina. I wouldn’t play couple with Natasha. I had no interest in anyone other than Nina—and if she were to see …
She pouted.
“You and I are not together.” It was clear in the texts—no love or respect. “And Nina’s living with me.” Time to play the part right so she’d stay away from my place. “Don’t turn up and fuck up my plans for her.”
She smirked, loving the idea that I had some plan to mess with Nina. I didn’t correct her, letting her think we were both still against Nina. As I stepped away from Natasha and lifted my eyes, I froze.
A familiar face cut through the noise of the street. Sandy-brown curls gelled back stubbornly. Steely dark-gray eyes, colder and older than they should be. That second line etched at the corner of his mouth when he smiled—I’d seen it in Nina too many times this past month.
For a second, shock hollowed me out. I’d been expecting to hear from him for weeks, not for him to turn up here. He opened his arms, and just like that, anger burned over surprise.
My jaw locked, voice dropping. “Fucking Vinny.”