Chapter 49
Conrad
The next twenty minutes were filled with a different type of tension. A slow burn that moved like a flame patiently flaring down a wax-covered wick.
It was like that day after the race in Boston: the air sparked with the anticipation of something new.
“I can’t believe you rewrote this whole thing.” Malena held my laptop in one hand and scrolled with the other.
While I drove, Malena read the article and did a quick proof. Now on the sidewalk, she was still reading it and not looking where she was going. I steered her into the washed limestone mid-rise building and the doorman pointed us in the direction of the private elevator.
“Well, this last bit needs to be added in,” I told her. It was the part where we solved the whole damn thing.
The “myth of meritocracy” version Malena sent me had no mention of everything we found together. And someone had to write our story. I couldn’t let it go.
“I added it in the car.” A smiled curved up her cheeks. Standing in front of the elevator, she saved the document and closed the laptop. “Con, this is great.”
“I love that my ability to complete basic human tasks astounds you.”
She finally took a look at the towering archways in the marble lobby. My brother Barrett lived in the penthouse of a building on Central Park East. The interior of its lobby resembled a decadent Italian renaissance palazzo. “You haven’t told me what we’re doing here.”
She crossed her arms around the laptop protectively, holding it against her chest.
“Just because it can’t be in the Winchester Daily News doesn’t mean it’s not newsworthy.”
Her eyes, wandering the soaring gilded ceiling, boomeranged back over to me.
“I know a guy,” I added.
Barrett also happened to be in charge of print media at my family’s company, and one of the many facets under his control was the newsroom. The news media arm of Hastings Media was its original purpose before it expanded into everything it was today.
“Con.” Her mouth hung open in disbelief.
“As much as I love hearing you say that…” I leaned in just as the elevator dinged. Her breath hitched and I wrapped one arm around her waist. “Let’s handle this”—I tapped on the laptop she held tightly against her body—“and then we can get to that.”
With her teeth pressing down on the corner of her lower lip, she smiled as I pulled her into the elevator.
Standing in Barrett’s home office, a menacingly dark room with no pictures and a sleek walnut desk, was like seeing the ghost of Thanksgiving future I was trying to avoid.
It was depressing as hell.
“Should we apologize for interrupting?” Malena said under her breath as we watched him read over the article.
I glanced down, noticing she was twisting her fingers together, and took her hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Interrupting a holiday week for work?” I whispered back. “He’ll throw me a bigger parade than the abomination that’ll march down Park Ave in two days.”
Malena’s silent laugh rumbled through her shoulders.
“How long have you been putting this together?” Barrett’s monotone cut between us.
Mal and I looked at each other. “All semester,” Malena answered.
“And this is all true?” Barrett asked brusquely, not looking up from the screen. “You have sources to back it up?”
I had half a mind to hit him for how he was speaking to her, but I knew Mal didn’t need me coming to her rescue.
“We’ll have confirmation in a few days—an authentication report from the gallery,” Malena supplied firmly.
“And the Modiste Gallery will probably keep it quiet because it’s a major scandal,” I added. “So you’ll have time before word reaches the public.”
If Barrett was on board, one of the largest news outlets in the world would break the story. Our story.
“It’ll require a thorough fact-check.” Barrett finally looked up at us, steepling his hands in front of his face. “And edit. Probably needs a few days before it’s ready.”
“So…?” Malena asked cautiously.
“Front page next Tuesday.” Barrett leaned back into his leather chair and a rare smile graced the depressing room. “Gives my team a week to rally. Send me any evidence you have, and I need that authentication report.”
“Okay.” She stayed stoic, but the excitement filled her eyes.
He stood up and adjusted his tie, then looked directly at Mal. “Miss Amin. My accounting team will be in touch regarding your freelance fee.”
“Oh.” Malena nodded eagerly, but just as she was about to say something, she tapped her fingers inside her pocket. She glanced at her phone, and whatever it was she found stole the sparkle from her eyes. “I’ll get that to you.” She looked at me and her voice lowered. “I should take this call.”
My heart sank seeing Malena walk out of the office down the hallway we came. This time because I knew her next steps wouldn’t be easy, no matter how good this news was.
“What about my payment?” I pushed my hands into my pockets and plastered a grin on my face.
“Have you already run through your substantial trust?” Barrett pointed to the door, dismissing me. “You’ve surprised me twice in one day.”
I shrugged off the dismissal and walked out into the hallway, where I was met with Mal’s absence. I kept going till I got to the private elevator landing, and that was where I heard Malena’s hushed voice.
“Do whatever you feel like you need to do, Mom,” she whispered harshly before jabbing at the screen and stowing it back in the pocket of my coat still draped over her shoulders.
I reached her in a single stride, disappointed that the reconciliation I was hoping for would probably have to wait. “Why don’t I drive you home?”
“I really don’t want to go there right now.” She took a step back, her eyes dropping to the floor. “Sabrina invited me to Thanksgiving. Her parents’ house is only a few blocks away.”
“Mal.” I looped my arm around her waist, a protective kick in my chest that I couldn’t ignore this time propelling me forward.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but seeing her this anxious worried me.
She looked fine, but I hated thinking of what was going on below the surface.
Maybe one day she’d tell me, but for now, I would do everything I could to support her.
“You can come to my place. It’d be just us. ”
She looked up at me and the corners of her mouth dropped.
“Try not to pity me,” I added playfully. “I was planning on going to the Rutherfords’.”
“Con, I…” She stared down at her hands as she twined her fingers. “I’ve already done enough damage.” She let out a deep sigh. “I don’t want to intrude on your holiday. Why don’t we figure things out when we get back to campus?”
“Look, Mal.” I lifted her chin gently. “I don’t need to figure things out.
I want to date you. I want to be in the real phone, in your real life.
” Her lips quivered and she opened her mouth, but I continued.
“I deserve that. And I’ve never wanted to deserve anything as much as I want to deserve you. ”
She nodded, her eyes becoming glassy. “I never wanted to lie to you. Or about you.”
“Then don’t.” I leaned my head against hers, completely forgetting to press the button on the elevator. “Ever again.”
“I won’t.” Both hands on either cheek, she drew me in.
“And I want the real Malena, every single fucking day.”
She raked a hand through my hair. Her fingernails scraped against my scalp, sending tiny sparks down my spine. “You’ve always had her.”
My next breath faltered.
Unable to wait any longer, I leaned in and pressed a kiss against her lips. A sigh shuddered down her body and she kissed me back, moaning softly as I tilted her head for better access.
In a few short months, Malena had spindled around my entire world like ivy. Climbing so high and spanning so completely that there wasn’t a single portrait of my future that didn’t have her in it.