Chapter 14
PIERCE
“I like you like this.” Thatcher had said, watching me reach for another slice of pizza with sauce-stained fingers. “Relaxed. Real.” The words echo in my memory like he’s saying them right now, but when I look up, he’s at his desk, on the phone, a picture of focus.
Unlike me. His boss. The man who almost came in his pants last night just from grinding and kissing like a teenager.
I run my hands over my face and exhale, jumping when my phone rings.
When I pick it up, I hear a chuckle. “Sounds like you’re struggling with something over there, boss.”
I look up to meet his eyes through the glass. “You’d know all about that.”
“I do, but I’m trying to be professional here, and the only way I know to bring back your chill face isn’t very appropriate for the workplace.”
I groan. “Thatcher…”
“Yes, boss?”
“Is there a reason you called?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t waste company resources on teasing my boss.
I’m very capable of doing that on my own.
I called to ask if you want me to grab you a coffee before the board meeting.
If you want your favorite, I’ll need to run down now because they get busy mid-morning, and no amount of flirting with the barista will get me served faster. ”
I close my hand in a fist at the thought of Thatcher flirting with another man before I flex it open and take another deep breath.
“No, I’ve had enough caffeine for today.”
“Okey-dokey. I’ll head on to the conference room. I want to check in with Tina before the meeting.”
I nod, and we both put the phone down. I try not to watch as he moves away from his desk, though not before bending over to grab something from a lower drawer.
“You’re really testing me today, Thatcher,” I whisper between my teeth before refocusing on the email I was working on before my thoughts distracted me.
Ten minutes later, I make my way to the morning board meeting, determined to focus on work, not my assistant.
Lior is already there by the refreshments table, so I join him and pour myself a glass of water.
“Well done again for an amazing party yesterday, Pierce. It took me thirty minutes to get to the office this morning because everyone stopped me along the way. Staff morale is at an all-time high, and I have you to thank for it.”
I shake my head. “You know Thatcher did most of the work, but I’m happy you’re happy.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing what he does with it next year.”
“Yeah,” I say, wondering if there will be a next year for Thatcher or me. With what’s happening between us and James’s threats, I’m not so sure.
The door to the conference room opens, and Thatcher enters, followed closely by James and Lior’s assistant, Tina.
My stomach drops at the sight of my brother’s predatory smile.
Thatcher’s natural warmth is absent as he takes his usual seat beside mine, his eyes fixed on James with barely concealed distrust.
James fixes me with a stare that might as well have “time’s up” written across his forehead.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Lior asks, carrying the authority of a CEO who doesn’t appreciate surprises of the James Dellcourt variety. He was never a fan of my brother.
James spreads his hands in a gesture of false apology. “I know I don’t have an appointment, but I’m certain you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He moves to the head of the table, Lior’s place, with the confidence of someone who’s about to release a smoking gun.
I sit beside Thatcher, but Lior remains where he is, leaning against the window.
“I’m here to propose a merger between Dellcourt Holdings and Van Stern Enterprises.
” James’s voice carries more arrogance than I’ve ever seen, even in our father.
“Our market analysis suggests this is the perfect time for such a venture. Especially given the…partner retention challenges VSE has been facing.”
Under the table, Thatcher’s foot touches mine as James continues outlining his proposal. The touch carries silent support as my brother’s carefully chosen words mask thinly veiled threats about VSE’s “vulnerable position” in the current market.
“VSE isn’t currently seeking merger opportunities,” Lior states firmly, cutting through James’s pitch.
My brother’s smile sharpens. “Sometimes the best opportunities are the ones we don’t go looking for.” His eyes meet mine across the table, carrying a clear warning. “Especially when market conditions become…unstable. Distribution partnerships can be so fragile these days.”
Before Lior can respond, board members begin filing into the room. James drops a file on the table labeled Partnership Analysis: Confidential, and with a nod to Lior, he leaves the room.
Lior’s expression tightens momentarily before he takes his seat. “Pierce, my office after the meeting,” he says quietly. “We need to discuss this situation.”
The regular board meeting proceeds as usual, but tension hangs thick in the air. I miss Thatcher’s foot against mine, but when we go through the reports we fixed last night, the silent touch returns, except this time, it’s his hand on my leg.
“Calm down. You look like you’re about to eject from the chair,” he says under his breath.
He’s not wrong. I feel like a pressure cooker about to explode.
“I’m okay,” I reply, but he gives me a look that says he knows I’m very much not okay.
I have no idea what to tell Lior when we meet.
Everything in my life is unraveling simultaneously, and I can’t seem to get a grip on any of it.
James is methodically destroying our business relationships while I’m losing my professional composure over my assistant.
I used to pride myself on control, on compartmentalizing, but now I can’t even make it through a board meeting without thinking of dragging my assistant onto my lap to finish what we’ve started.
Lior is one of my oldest friends—or was, before I betrayed him. Even now, with the fragile trust we’ve rebuilt, I can’t confess what’s happening with Thatcher. Not when Lior is his cousin by marriage, and not when I can’t even understand it myself.
As the meeting concludes, I know I can’t face Lior. Not yet. I’m thankful for small mercies when he gets a call just as the meeting ends. As he’s walking out, he makes a gesture for me to give him some time before coming to the office.
I turn to Thatcher. “Follow me,” I say softly, needing him…something, before facing whatever awaits in Lior’s office.
He doesn’t ask where we’re going when I take a different turn, leading him toward the service stairwell instead of the elevators. The concrete steps echo with our footsteps as we climb, the sound bouncing off the walls in the narrow space.
“Pierce, what are we—” he starts, but I’m already pushing open the heavy door to the rooftop garden. I don’t have a plan for this, I just know I need to breathe, and I can’t do it without Thatcher.
The late-morning sun hits us immediately, warm and bright after the fluorescent lighting downstairs.
The small oasis spreads before us: the raised flower beds, the weathered benches, and the city stretching out beyond the low wall.
More importantly, the place is empty. As it has been every time Thatcher’s dragged me up here to force me into having a lunch break
The moment I confirm we’re alone, my control snaps. My hand closes around Thatcher’s wrist as I pull him back against the door we just came through.
“Pierce, what—” he starts, but I silence him with a desperate and needy kiss. I press closer, making him gasp into my mouth.
Every point of contact between us feels like it’s on fire. Thatcher’s fingers find my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss, his other hand gripping my shoulder like an anchor.
“Pierce,” he manages between kisses, his voice breathless. “Anyone could come up here…”
“I need you,” I growl, surprising myself with the raw honesty in my voice. My mouth finds his neck, tasting skin that carries traces of cologne but to me only smells like Thatcher. His head falls back against the door, exposing more throat for my attention as my hands fumble with his belt.
The afternoon light makes everything vivid and real. I drop to my knees without conscious thought, my need for him too overwhelming for any level of careful consideration.
“Wait,” Thatcher gasps as I reach for his zipper.
The word cuts through my haze of want like a bucket of cold water.
I freeze, suddenly aware of where we are, what I’m doing.
The open roof, the unlocked door, and the fact that anyone could walk up those stairs at any moment.
The fact that I’m his boss, that I pulled him up here without asking, that I’m on my knees in broad daylight, ready to—
Christ. What am I doing?
I pull back immediately, scrambling to my feet and putting distance between us. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice rough and unsteady. “This is… We can’t do this. I’m so sorry.”
Thatcher’s breathing is still uneven, his lips swollen from our kisses, but he nods.
“I shouldn’t have—” I start, but he shakes his head.
“It’s fine, Pierce. We both got carried away.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back into place. “I should get back to my desk.”
The new distance in his voice makes my chest ache, but I nod. “Of course.”
We take the stairs down separately, Thatcher heading toward his desk and me in the direction of Lior’s office, guilt and frustration warring in my gut with every step.
One crisis at a time. Right now, James’s threat demands more immediate attention than my crumbling professional boundaries.
Lior stands by the window when I enter his office, tension visible in the set of his shoulders.
“Sit,” he says, though he remains standing. His voice carries the authority I know well from boardrooms, from times when our relationship was simpler, if not easier. “Tell me what the fuck that was about.”
I settle into one of his visitor chairs.
“He’s been systematically targeting our distribution partners,” I admit, watching Lior’s reflection in the window rather than meeting his eyes directly.
“Offering them deals we can’t match. We’ve already lost Sunside Industries, Patterson Logistics, and Coastal Distribution. ”
“How long has this been going on?” Lior turns, finally, his expression unreadable.
“A few weeks,” I reply, guilt making my voice rougher than intended. “I thought I could handle it internally. Keep it from becoming your problem.”
“Dammit, Pierce!” The words explode with unexpected force, making me flinch. “After everything we’ve been through.”
“There’s more,” I say, taking a breath. “James has been getting inside information. Partnership renewal dates, negotiation strategies, confidential board discussions.”
Lior’s expression sharpens. “A leak.”
“And it could be anyone on the board. Or at least any of the ones who weren’t happy when you took over the company.”
Lior moves to his desk. “Well, now we know. And now we can use it against them.”
“What do you mean?”
His smile carries a razor’s edge. “We feed them false information. Let James think he’s winning while we secure our real partnerships behind the scenes. When he makes his final move based on bad intel, we’ll be ready.”
The strategy is elegant in its simplicity. “You want to turn the leak into our unwitting double agent.”
“Exactly. But, Pierce, this stays between us. No one else can know, not even…” He pauses, studying my face. “Are you all right? You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”
The question catches me off guard, and suddenly, all the guilt and confusion about Thatcher come rushing back. “I’m fine. Just processing everything.”
“Pierce.” Lior’s voice gentles. “We’re going to handle James. Together this time. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”
I nod, but as I stand to leave, the weight on my chest isn’t about James or corporate warfare. It’s about the way Thatcher looked at me on that roof, the way I pulled him against that door without asking, the way I can’t seem to control myself around him.
When I return to my office, Thatcher isn’t around, and his desk is suspiciously tidy. A pink sticky note stands out on my black computer screen.
Personal matter or escape route? The question gnaws at me.
Fresh guilt rises as I remember how I pulled him up to the roof without asking. He’d responded enthusiastically, yes, but power imbalances make everything complicated. I’m his boss. What if he felt obligated? What if…?
James’s threats suddenly feel manageable compared to this. We have a plan for the corporate warfare, a strategy to turn the tables. But this thing with Thatcher? I have no plan for that.