Chapter 11
DEXTER
Meetings fill the day, start to finish. Most of it’s debriefing my team, assigning roles, strategy checks.
I’ve built Thorne Architects from the ground up, and it’s my team’s job to run with it.
Still, there are things I prefer to keep on my plate.
The details matter, they always have. I want to make sure we deliver the best.
I check my phone a few times between calls.
Nothing from Holly. I shoot a text to her and wait.
Normally, I’d scroll back at the end of the day and find at least three messages waiting.
Today, nothing. I chalk it up to timing, and I don’t push.
She’s finishing a big project, so I assume she’s just as slammed as I am.
That, and the fact that we’re scheduled to have sex.
She asked me for something big. And I said yes.
I figure she’s processing. So am I.
She thinks we can make this clean and simple. A one-time thing. A means to an end.
But I know Holly, and I know she jokes when she’s scared, and her timing’s always off.
And I know myself.
If we do this—when we do this—I’m not going into it half-assed. I’m doing it the way it should be done, and it’ll feel the way it’s supposed to. And I’ll take care of her, the way she deserves. Simple as that.
And when this is done, it won’t feel like a transaction.
“Howya, boss. I need your signature.” Keith’s Irish accent cuts through my thoughts as he strolls into my room.
Keith Murphy and I met six years ago at an architecture convention, long before he came to work for me.
When his old firm went under, I convinced him to jump ship and join mine.
He’s the principal architect, keen as hell, and he’s never afraid to speak his mind.
Most people either tiptoe around me or try to hide their mistakes.
Not Keith. If something’s wrong—or if he screws something up—he says so. We get along well.
“Keith, ever heard of knocking?”
“Fair enough.” He backs out, shuts the door, and a second later: knock-knock.
“Come in.”
Keith enters, wearing that familiar shit-eating grin. “How’s that now?”
I reach for the rolled-up plans he hands over. “I’m surprised Hermine let you in.”
“She’s not at her desk. It didn’t sound like you were on the phone, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to pop in.”
“Or you waited her out, just so you wouldn’t have to book a slot like everyone else?”
Keith flashes me a grin. “Ah, you have me there. That’s why you’re paid the big bucks.”
“Among other reasons.”
I unroll the plans onto my drafting table and scan them. We’ve gone back and forth on this set a few times already, but there are still details to tighten up.
“You’ll want to widen these rooms by about two feet,” I say, tapping the page. “They talked our ears off about it on the upstate visit. Oversized doorframes. And here, we’re still short on natural light. Go back to those floor-to-ceiling windows we looked at last week.”
Keith frowns. “Grand. But pricey.”
“The grid layout keeps it in check. They want to look important. We’ll make sure they do.”
As I talk, I pencil in the changes myself, sketching out exactly what I want. Keith watches with that look that says, Boss, I’m not new here.
I make the last mark and hand him the plans.
“Make those changes tonight,” I say, “and I’ll sign off in the morning. We need them clean and ready for the Swan Estates call next week.”
Keith nods, re-rolling the plans. “Sounds grand. Care for a pint tonight?”
“Can’t. I’ve got plans.”
“Redhead, blondie, or brunette?”
I shake my head, slipping my blazer on. “I’m meeting up with Holly.”
“And people think I’m the lad around here. You’re giving me a run for my money. How’s the unofficial Mrs. Thorne?”
“You know she’d give you a smack if she ever heard you call her that.”
“Well, as I’ve told her many a time myself, she can do whatever she wants to me.”
Keith and Holly’s playful dynamic started the day I introduced them. Usually, I ignore it, laugh it off. But tonight, it hits different. We’re not together, sure, but she’ll be carrying my kid. That changes things.
“Yeah, well, that’s never going to happen.”
“I don’t know, boss. I think she might, you know, be secretly in love with me.”
“In your dreams, Murphy,” I say, voice even, but there’s an edge to it. “In your dreams.”
He picks up on it, eyebrows lifting. “Hit a nerve there, boss? I’m only coddin’ ye!”
“You’re hitting all of them. You’ve had your fun, now get the hell out.”
“Grand, grand. I’m goin’,” he says, holding his hands up as he heads for the door. “But don’t blame me if she shows up askin’ for me instead.”
I wave him off and shut down my laptop.
I debate whether to shower here or head home to change. Here, I decide. I’m already running late.
On my way out, I notice Hermine’s back at her desk.
“Hermine, I’m heading out.”
“Good evening, Mr. Thorne. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” She’s a stern, sixty-something widow I hired in the fall after my last assistant couldn’t keep up. Hermine gets things done. She doesn’t do drama, doesn’t cut corners, and that’s why she’s lasted longer than anyone else.
“I’m waiting on a call from Swan Estates. Don’t transfer it, just take a message. I’ll follow up tomorrow. I’m unavailable for the rest of the night.”
I want my hands on Swan. It’s a win I’ve been working toward for months, but it has to wait. Tonight, I’m going to be… busy.
“Of course, Mr. Thorne. I’ll see the message gets to your email before I leave.”
“Good. Thanks.”
Outside, I pull out my phone. No text from her. Good. That means we’re still on.
I type a quick message and hit send.
Nothing overthought, just two words.