Chapter 27
27
HUNTER
I stride into the office on Friday morning with a giant smile plastered on my face. No, it’s not because Dylan made me a sandwich at midnight yesterday. Grilled cheese doesn’t hold that kind of power over me, no matter how ooey-gooey and delicious—the food and the chef. It was a nice gesture, sure, but he’s just a nice guy being nice.
Dylan wasn’t beaming at me extra brightly or holding eye contact for more than a purely friendly interaction would suggest. Nope, that was all in my head and not at all the reason I can’t stop smiling.
No, I’m this excited only because I’m about to absolutely crush it at work today. I’ve been busting my butt all week on these revisions for the North Shore project, determined to wow the client with my brilliant problem-solving skills. Mark with his scheming and backstabbing won’t know what hit him. This is my moment to shine.
I waltz into the Carmichael Corp. meeting, my mind clear and extra-caffeinated. Mark and Daniel are already seated at the sleek, glass conference table; I nod in their direction and shake hands with all the top executives who have come to hear my pitch.
Squaring my shoulders, I launch into my presentation, outlining the smart glass system designed to regulate the atrium’s temperature without compromising the aesthetic. “By utilizing this innovative technology,” I explain, “we can significantly reduce heat gain while maintaining the visual impact of the space.”
I detail the vertical garden’s automated irrigation and the sustainable materials sourced for the interior finishes. Mark shifts in his seat, but I continue undeterred. This is my element.
I get to the burning heart of the matter: the added costs the new atrium design will incur. Daniel leans forward, his brow furrowed, as I break down the numbers. No one likes to tell clients they’re going over budget. “While these modifications do come with an increased upfront investment,” I acknowledge, “the long-term savings on energy and maintenance will more than justify the expense.”
I click on my last slide, a 3D rendering of the reimagined atrium glowing with green life. “This is more than an office complex,” I declare, meeting the clients’ gazes with unwavering conviction. “This is a chance to set a new standard for sustainable architecture in the corporate world. With the North Shore project, Carmichael Corp. can cement its position as an industry leader and innovator.”
As I finish, a charged silence fills the room. I stare around.
Mark looks equal parts impressed and irritated. No doubt he’d been hoping for a different outcome. Daniel seems proud. But it’s the client’s reaction that counts the most.
The executive at the opposite head of the table clears his throat, his tie askew. “Ms. Brolin, while we appreciate your… enthusiasm, these additional costs are not insignificant.” He taps his fingers against the gleaming tabletop, a subtle tell of his hesitation.
I’m ready for the pushback. “I understand your concern,” I reply, my tone even and assured. “But if I may, these changes were proposed by Carmichael Corp. to add a wow factor. Unfortunately, adding such a visual impact has a cost. Of course, the initial design is still perfectly viable and in line with your budget.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “The final decision rests with you.”
The executives exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them. I stand my ground, projecting an air of calm confidence even as my heart pounds under my blazer.
The head executive nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, Ms. Brolin, you drive a hard bargain. But you’ve made a compelling case. We’re on board with the revised design and budget.”
Relief and elation flood through me, but I keep my expression composed as we shake hands and exchange pleasantries until the executives from Carmichael Corp. leave the conference room.
Daniel and Mark linger behind, and I glimpse Mark’s face. His earlier mocking pout has been replaced by a look of begrudging respect, tinged with a hint of surprise. A surge of satisfaction curses through me at proving him wrong.
Daniel approaches me, a satisfied grin on his face. “Hunter, that was outstanding work.” His handshake is steady and slightly lingering as if he wants to reinforce the weight of his words. “You’ve shown incredible promise since you joined the firm, but this… this was next level.”
The way he holds my gaze, resolute, yet warm, makes me realize he’s finally seeing me as an equal. “Thank you, Daniel.” I manage to keep my voice steady. “I’m glad we could find a solution that works for everyone.”
“It’s more than that,” he insists. “The way you handled the client’s concerns, how you made them see the value in the extra costs… I’ve never seen a junior engineer with that kind of finesse. Keep up the excellent work.” He gives me a rare, almost fatherly nod before heading out.
As the door clicks shut after Daniel steps out, the atmosphere in the room shifts. Mark remains seated, his posture stiff, as if bracing for a confrontation.
The faint ticking of the wall clock punctuates the quiet until I speak up. “I know what you’ve been doing, Mark.” Despite my simmering anger, my voice is calm and even—professional. “Working behind my back to sabotage the project.”
He doesn’t flinch, nor deny it. Instead, he links his fingers over his chest, a sneer curling his lips. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you could handle the pressure.” His tone drips with condescension. “But you proved me wrong. You showed you have balls.”
I bristle at the backhanded compliment. “I shouldn’t have to prove I have balls just because I lack a physical sack,” I retort, my words sharp. “My competence has nothing to do with my gender.”
Mark holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m giving credit where it’s due. You solved the problem and got the client on board. That takes grit.”
I lean forward, my eyes locked on his. “Let’s get one thing clear. If you ever interfere with my work again, I won’t be as gracious. I’ll go straight to Daniel, and we’ll see how much he appreciates your games.”
For once, Mark is speechless. He stares at me, his jaw clenched, but says nothing.
I stand, smoothing my skirt. “Glad we understand each other.” My tone is sweet, but my smile is razor-sharp.
As I walk out of the conference room, satisfaction and relief flood my system. This wasn’t about impressing Daniel or the client; it was about showing myself what I’m capable of. I can handle anything this job throws at me, even a dirtbag supervisor like Mark.
On the way back to my office, I run into Clara, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hunter,” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes. “I heard about the meeting. You crushed it.”
I grin, her enthusiasm infectious. “Wow, news travels fast, huh?”
“Are you kidding? Daniel’s been singing your praises to anyone who’ll listen. You’re the office star.”
I brush the compliment off. “It was nothing, just doing my job.”
“Don’t be modest. You’re on fire, girl.”
We fall into step together, and Clara’s expression turns conspiratorial. “Speaking of being on fire, how’s your dating life? Any good suitors?”
I grimace, the memory of countless terrible dates flashing through my mind. “Ugh, don’t even ask. It’s been a total disaster. I’m calling it quits, a failed mission.”
Clara pats my arm sympathetically. “But you can’t give up. You need a break, that’s all. Hey, why don’t we go out for drinks tonight? Celebrate your big win us gals, no guys involved?”
I hesitate, wondering if by saying yes, I’m giving up another grilled cheese sandwich. Then, I remember it’s Friday night and Dylan will have plans with Olivia. The thought of going home to a quiet apartment and obsessing over him again while he’s with her is unbearable.
“You know what? That sounds perfect.” I grin at Clara. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
Hours later, I stumble down the hall of my floor, the world tilting pleasantly around me. The celebratory drink with Clara turned into several cocktails, the alcohol flowing a little too freely as we toasted my success. To be honest, I was simultaneously celebrating while also drowning my sorrows.
As I reach my door, I fumble with my keys, failing to slot them into the lock. They jangle loudly in the hallway’s quiet.
I have to recalibrate my aim a few times before I succeed in opening the door. I wobble into the darkened apartment, unsteady on my heels. The room spins. I grope for the light switch, missing it twice before finally illuminating the space. The sudden brightness makes me squint, and I lose my balance, crashing sideways into the entrance console. It wobbles precariously, rattling.
“Shh,” I hush it, pinballing over to the other wall and making even more noise.
I cringe, hoping I haven’t woken Dylan.
“Hunter? Is that you?”
No such luck. Dylan’s voice floats down the hallway, husky with sleep. He appears deliciously rumpled in a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt. His blond hair is mussed, and his dreamy eyes are half-amused, half-narrowed as he takes in my inebriated state.
“Hey, Dylan.” I sway on my feet. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Nah, I was just heading to bed now.” He chuckles, studying me. “You had a good night?”
I nod, instantly regretting the motion as the floor wobbles underneath me. “Yeah, celebrating a win at work. Maybe celebrated a little too hard.”
Dylan’s smile softens, his eyes warm as they meet mine. “The big project you were telling me about last night?”
“The one.”
As I fight with the strap of my messenger bag to pull it over my head, I take in Dylan’s face breaking into the brightest, goofiest smile.
“Congratulations, Brolin, you deserve it.”
I go warm in several places, my alcohol-addled brain latching onto the way he called me by my surname as if he’d said babe.
Dylan takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to free me from the damn strap. He pulls it gently over my head and steadies me as I wobble again.
“Need help getting to bed?”
I laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. “You’re so nice, Dylan. Like, the nicest guy ever.”
“Thank you.” Dylan grins, guiding me down the hallway toward my bedroom.
“Seriously, the nicest.”
“Yeah, you mentioned,” he teases, his hand warm on the small of my back.
We make it to my room, and I fall onto the bed, the world still spinning pleasantly. I’m struggling with my sandals, to kick them off; the thin straps are conspiring against me.
He watches me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Does being nice include helping you with your shoes? Or is that crossing a line?”
I giggle. “Yes. Nice people help with shoes. It’s in the rules of niceness.”
Dylan’s warm and rich laugh pulls my focus entirely to him as he kneels down, gently removing my shoes and setting them aside. His fingers barely brush my skin, but my head starts to spin faster.
As he stands back up, I throw my arms out wide and let myself fall backward onto the bed, grinning up at him. “Is this the part where you tuck me in and tell me a bedtime story?”
“A bedtime story?” Dylan smiles as he pulls a blanket over me. “Any requests?” he asks sarcastically.
“The one where he ditches the perfect princess and marries the nerd instead,” I mumble, my eyes already drooping.
Dylan chuckles, his hand brushing my hair back from my face.
“I’m not sure I know that one.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“And you might be too tired for a story, anyway.”
I hum in agreement, sleep already pulling me under. “Yeah, I’m tiredddd…”
The last thing I’m aware of is the gentle click of the door as Dylan leaves.
And then I’m dreaming, lost in a world where nice guys help with shoes and tuck you in at night, and everything is warm and safe and perfect.