Chapter 2 #2
Which is exactly what needs to happen. This is temporary. Two weeks. I can survive two weeks of pretending Friday never happened. I press a sharpened pencil tip into my thumb. And then bite down hard.
Even if pretending is going to kill me.
On Tuesday, I'm picking at a salad in the dining hall when Jaden drops into the chair across from me. And just like everything he does, it's dramatic.
"Okay," he says, wagging his eyebrows. "I need details."
"About what?"
"Don't play dumb. The new boss. What's he like up close?"
Lea slides into the seat next to him, sandwich in hand.
"He's..." I pause, trying to find words that aren't lies but aren't the whole truth either. "Professional."
"That's not what I'm asking." Jaden leans forward. "Is he actually hot? Because Lea here saw him in the elevator and she said he looks like he could throw a woman over his shoulder and carry her off into the sunset."
Lea nods and bites into her sandwich. "He really could."
The coffee I was sipping goes down wrong, and I cough until my eyes water.
"You okay?" Lea asks.
"Fine. Wrong pipe."
"So?" Jaden prompts. "Hot or not?"
I think about Matthew in his navy suit this morning. And the simple crisp white shirt last Friday.
"He's not really that hot," I tell them, even as warmth creeps to the tips of my ears.
Jaden's face falls. "Really?"
Lea just shrugs. "He looks like a perfect ten to me, though."
I focus on spearing the lone tomato on my plate. "He doesn't really do it for me."
I stand to grab water and nearly slam into Matthew himself.
He's standing right there. Close enough to touch. Close enough to have heard every word we just said.
My heart stops, blood rushing to my head.
If the earth could swallow me whole right now, I would be very grateful.
His face is unreadable, but there's something in his eyes that might be amusement. Or it might be annoyance. Or it might be nothing, and I'm projecting because I want to die.
"Vivian," he says with a slight nod.
He called me Vivian, not Ms. Olivers. Oh God.
Jaden makes a sound like a deflating balloon.
My throat is suddenly dry. "Mr. Astor."
He steps aside to let me pass, perfectly polite, perfectly professional. I walk by him on legs that feel like jelly.
Did he hear? Surely not, right? He's Matthew Astor. He won't go around listening to us mere mortals yap at lunch. He has ten thousand thoughts in his mind. That one comment probably didn't register with him.
The moment I get back to my desk, my phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number.
UNKNOWN: For the record, you did seem to find me hot. Friday night, anyway.
I stare at the screen until the words blur. My face is on fire. My hands are shaking.
UNKNOWN: But I appreciate the professional discretion.
I delete both texts immediately and shove my phone into my desk drawer while my brain screams variations of "OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD" on repeat.
Matthew heard. He definitely heard. And now he's texting me like we have some kind of secret, which we absolutely do not, because Friday night was a one-time thing and we're both professionals and this cannot be happening.
By Wednesday morning, I arrive at the office with a game plan. Professional distance. No eye contact beyond what's absolutely necessary. No lingering when he asks for coffee. No noticing every small thing about him.
I can do this. I'm good at my job. I'm competent and professional and I will not let one night with a stranger derail my career.
Even if that stranger is currently sitting in my boss's office, looking unfairly good in a charcoal suit.
My phone rings.
"Ms. Olivers, could you come in, please?"
I grab my notepad and walk into Matthew's office, closing the door behind me. He's sitting behind Levi's desk, his top two buttons undone. I swallow a whimper because I have now been reduced to getting turned on by a tanned chest. Yay.
"I need you to reschedule the Tokyo meeting for Thursday morning," he says without looking up. "Maddie Cole mentioned some concerns about the timeline for the lifestyle campaign. Set up a meeting with her department heads for Friday afternoon."
"Of course." I finish writing and look up. "Anything else?"
He leans back in his chair, and something in his posture changes. Subtle, but I notice because I've been watching him for three days, even as I keep denying it to myself.
"One more thing," he says, and his tone is different, slightly warmer, less formal. "You told your friends I wasn't doing it for you, and yet I didn't get that impression last Friday."
My pen slips, and the notepad drops to the carpeted floor. The air leaves the room. All of it. Gone.
Matthew tilts his head to the side, like he's enjoying watching me squirm.
"Mr. Astor, I think there's been some kind of—"
"Have there?" He leans forward, steepling his fingers. "You seemed to find me attractive enough when you had your legs wrapped around my waist."
"Jesus Christ."
"Is that a professional response, Ms. Olivers?"
"Is asking about my legs wrapped around your waist a professional question?"
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Fair point."
We stare at each other across the desk.
I sigh heavily. "I'm sorry about what you heard. I meant no offense."
"Hmm."
"And I would prefer it if you wouldn't do this."
"Do what?"
"Allude to our time together."
"You were comfortable enough to discuss me."
"Jaden and Lea don't know."
Matthew stands up and walks around the desk, stopping just close enough that I have to lift my chin to look at him. His gaze drops to my mouth, and he lets it linger before dragging it back up to my eyes. "That's all for now."
I nod, grabbing and clutching my notepad like a lifeline and picking up the pen. Barely holding myself together, I walk to the door.
"Ms. Olivers? Just so we're clear," he says. "I don't make employees redo coffee unless it's terrible. And I've never denied anyone a lunch break."
"T-that's good t-to know."
"Although, I do occasionally require overtime."
A few hours later, Jaden and Lea are at my desk while I pack up my things. One second, it's just the three of us, and the next, Matthew appears from out of nowhere. I didn't hear him walk over, and the sudden proximity makes me jump.
"Working late tonight," he says. "You'll need to order dinner."
Jaden's face is a mask of horror. "Overtime?"
"I'm afraid so."
Lea looks up from her phone with the expression of someone who's just been told Christmas is cancelled.
Matthew glances between them, taking in their obvious horror.
"Not you two," he says. "Just Vivian and me."