Chapter 2 #2
“Fine,” I grit out, slipping the heels onto my feet. My reflection is cut off at the top of the mirror as soon as I put them on. It’s fun being six inches taller, but it’s not fun struggling to walk in stilettos when you’ve always been more of a wedge girl.
“God, look at you. They’ll all be at your feet begging for mercy. Turn and face me.” She assesses me, gobsmacked, her eyes doing a last once-over of my outfit. “Okay. I give you permission to go.”
She embraces me in a tight hug, squealing.
We’ve been doing a lot of that ever since yesterday when I was offered the job of my dreams. “I’m so proud of you, oh my God.
” Opening the bedroom door for me, she tells me, “Please take it slow. You look hot, and hot women aren’t in a rush when they’re wearing Louboutins. ”
I kiss her goodbye as I leave her house, conveniently located in the middle of the city.
“Text me how it goes.”
“I will!” I yell, already hobbling down the sidewalk to catch the subway.
“And watch your step!” she yells, three steps before I miss the curb and go falling.
Great start, Jessy.
I smile and wave, and spend an embarrassing amount of time descending the steps down to the subway. I miss my train as a result, but that’s why I set off early.
I paid extra to send the kids to their kindergarten’s breakfast club this morning, a whopping eighty dollars per child.
It feels like a kick in the teeth to spend money like that, but I choose to not dwell on it this morning.
Good things are coming. After my first paycheck, heating my apartment might stop feeling like daylight robbery.
I may be able to start attending Pilates classes again, biweekly like I used to before the kids.
But there is one thing that won’t ever go away—the fear of running into Taro around every corner.
I sold my previous apartment and moved into a bigger one to create more space for the kids.
Taro probably stopped searching for me years ago, but that’s not a good enough reason for me to stop being on guard.
If he finds out I had kids with another man, he’d probably take out his resentment on me, and God forbid, on my children.
I stumble out of the train when it’s my stop, feeling way too overdressed. The clink-clonk of stiletto heels really draws unnecessary attention, but I remind myself to play the part. The only thing worse than wearing business-smart is looking awkward while wearing it.
And I’m choosing confidence today, even though I’m shitting bricks.
My whole life depends on this job.
Savannah’s right, and I hate her for getting too real sometimes. I don’t sleep. I struggle to even fit in a shower some days, between looking after five-year-old triplets who always need their Mommy, and work.
Finding a man who loves my kids as much as I do is an option, but a terrible one. My safety net is money, not another human. And this firm is how I give my children the life they deserve. I’ll have health insurance through this job, and good benefits, and I can finally give myself a rest.
I need to be in top shape for my kids in order to raise them right. All I’ve been doing for the past six years is surviving.
I consult maps on my phone. It says I’m here.
I glare up at the glass building in front of me that shoots high into the Boston skyline. A very big contribution to the city, indeed. It has to be one of the tallest, if not the tallest. And this is where I’m gonna be working five days a week.
Suddenly I feel like I’m not dressed for the part enough.
The building soars high into the air, long and thin like an icicle—tipped like one too. The point at the top looks sharp enough to cut through the clouds.
I scroll my eyes up and down the exterior, questioning if the building is really made from glass. The blinding way it catches the sunlight has me thinking it’s made of diamond.
I should’ve accepted that Cartier tennis bracelet from Savannah. The Birkin and Louboutins don’t feel like enough…
I start toward the building, heels clinking loud on the concrete beneath me. I clutch the Birkin the way Savannah instructed me: “Hold the handle, don’t loop your arm through it. That’s not the impression you want to give off.”
The curb disappears beneath me, one heel wobbling off onto the road.
“Fuck,” I cuss, hoping nobody around hears. It’s a miracle that I managed to catch myself.
I straighten my spine and enter one hundred stories of glass. Much to my surprise, Leon is already there waiting to collect me. He shoots up from the chair and offers me his hand, which I make sure to shake firmer than last time: “In business, the firmer the better.”
“Hi,” I say, waiting for him to say something.
He does a sweep of my outfit. Yeah. It’s quite a step up from the white shirt and thrifted flats I wore during the interview. “Right on the dot,” he says, checking the watch on his wrist that probably costs more than my monthly paychecks. “You’re already making a good first impression.”
I flash him a smile and hope it doesn’t come off as being nervous.
“The CEO is eager to see you. Best not keep him waiting,” he jokes, although I question if that really is a joke.
I gulp and follow him through the lobby, noting all of the trees. I didn’t interview in this building; it was at a coffee shop down the road. Extremely odd—given how much space there is here.
The main reception desk has a canopy of leaves hanging over it from the trees that have been trained to grow around everything. The tree in the middle of the atrium shoots high into the center of the building.
“As you can see,” starts Leon, “here at Sterling Row Partners, we value open working spaces. There are options to reserve desks that overlook the atrium if you’re in a social mood. Other days, you might want to work somewhere more private, so quieter spaces are available too.”
I glance up and see easily a hundred employees tapping away on laptops, in casual meetings with others.
Leon calls for an elevator—glass, of course, like the rest of the building. I slide in after him, my stomach tightening when I see him press the button to the one hundred and third floor.
Of a glass building.
We glide seamlessly up the spine of the high-rise, passing leaves and floors and gravity—I fear—until we reach the top.
“Nadir Medvedev takes pride in everything he does,” Leon says as he leads me out of the elevator. “You’ll see in a minute that he can be a bit…skeptical of the new hires. But I know that you’ll be able to prove yourself. That’s why I hired you.”
My legs seize up, heavier than led.
Leon looks back into the elevator, where I now appear to be stuck.
“Miss Rawcliffe? Please follow me. It’s right this way.”
“Who did you say the CEO is again?”
“Nadir Medvedev.”
“Right.” I choke, air dying in my lungs.
First impressions matter. Don’t make it obvious you had something with the CEO.
Shit. My baby daddy is the CEO.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
“Miss Rawcliffe?”
By some miracle, I manage to peel myself from the glass elevator and step into the corridor. My legs are weak, and in these heels, it’s especially hard to keep upright.
But I get my breath back and manage to take one good step.
“Is there a problem?”
“No problem.” I flash Leon a smile—a gritted one that probably makes me look constipated.
A good first impression to make when I’m about to reunite with my baby daddy, close to thirty thousand feet in the air again.
My stomach wraps in nausea. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I take a minute and use the bathroom? It’s t-that time of the month.”
What the fuck am I saying?
Leon’s expression flickers. “Sure. Down there, second on the right.” He signals with his hand.
And I move fast in that direction…
When a door cracks open.
Revealing my boss and baby daddy all at once.
I crash into his chest, and immediately lose my footing when I catch the nostalgic smell of bergamot. His eyes are even more penetrating than before. He’s straight-up ice, his hair frosted over fully white now.
Oh my fucking—
“Jessy?” he purrs, picking my whole ass off the floor.
Yes. I actually fell all the way this time.
“This is Jess Rawcliffe,” Leon says, appearing behind us. “The successful candidate.”
Nadir’s jaw is so sharp that it could slice this building in half.
He wouldn’t dream of doing that, of course. Not when he owns the building.
And now me.
“Thanks, Leon,” he says. “I’ll take it from here.”