Chapter 5 #2
Leon chuckles. “I promise Theo isn’t always such a grump. He’s usually better behaved.”
Before I can reply, Andy strolls up, slow clapping. “You done good, Kaori. You officially survived your first Riverton interrogation.”
I snort despite myself. “Barely.”
“Survival is survival,” Derrick says, sneaking in beside Andy. “And it calls for a celebration.”
Leon lifts his travel coffee mug. “To Kaori, who has passed through the Mines of Riverton and lived to tell the tale.”
I manage a wry smile, setting my things down on my desk.
“Nice toast, Leon the Grey, but I was thinking more of a celebratory meal. What do you say, Kaori, are you down for joining the three of us for dinner? There’s this tiny Italian place around the corner that makes the world’s best pasta,” Derrick says.
A week ago, I would’ve gone home, cracked open a tub of cookie-dough-flavored Ben & Jerry’s (the most loyal men in my life), and decompressed with a K-Drama. But right now I’m craving a mountain of pasta and a side of Leon’s terrible dad jokes. “I’m in.”
During lunch, I text Rei.
Kaori
This is your daily check-in. Have you been kidnapped by a rogue knight?
Rei
Still no knights. But I may be at risk of developing webbed feet. It hasn’t stopped raining since last Tuesday.
Kaori
Look on the bright side—at least you aren’t melting in 100% Florida humidity. My hair has expanded to twice its original volume.
Rei
I’d trade webbed feet for a palm tree right now. And I have something exciting to share. I met someone.
Kaori
Someone? As in a friend?
Rei
Yes, a guy. His name is Julian. And actually that reminds me, I can’t video chat tonight. We’re going out.
A guy? My protective big-sister claws unsheathe instantly. She’s never had a guy friend before.
Kaori
Rei, you’ve been there for five minutes. Tell Julian if he so much as breathes wrong, I will fly across the pond and calculate the exact structural-failure point of his favorite hobby.
Rei
Quit being so dramatic. Julian’s a good guy. You’ll just have to trust my judgment.
Kaori
I do. It’s just you’ve never had a boyfriend before.
Rei
We’re just friends! Anyway, look who’s talking. You’ve never had a boyfriend either.
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. It’s a fair point, even if it is a low blow.
Kaori
That doesn’t matter. I’m older and wiser.
Rei
By a miserly five years.
Kaori
Look, I’ll reserve my judgment on him until we meet. Have fun tonight. We can chat tomorrow. I’m going out with some people from work anyway.
Rei
Whoa! You’re going out? As in actually having a social life?
Kaori
It’s just dinner and drinks.
Rei
Mm-hmm. Well, I hope you stay out late and find a boyfriend of your own. You need a Julian more than I do.
Kaori
So you admit Julian is your boyfriend.
Rei
*zipper-face emoji*
Three dots blink as Rei types.
Rei
I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Kaori
I make no promises.
It’s 4:55 p.m. I’m five minutes away from freedom and what Leon claims are the world’s best breadsticks. My laptop’s tucked away and my backpack is zipped closed when Anya appears beside my desk. “Are you on your way out?”
“Mm-hmm. And I hope you are too.”
She smiles. “I will be in a few. I have a couple emails to send off first.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she taps the folder tucked under her arm. “Actually, would you mind dropping this on Riverton’s desk on your way out? It’s the revised Quantum Leap analysis with my notes added.”
Cue record scratch. My mind frantically searches for a polite “no,” but I’m coming up empty. “Um . . .”
As if reading my mind, she adds, “I think he left an hour ago. He mentioned needing to pack for a meeting in Atlanta tomorrow morning. At least it’s in the same time zone.”
My shoulders loosen a notch. Phew. Crisis averted. “Sure. No problem.”
“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver.”
I slip my backpack onto my shoulders and tuck the file under my arm before I head down the hall. The lights in his office are off. Perfect. I’ll just put it next to his monitor and slip out—darn it. I knew it was too easy.
Theo is sitting at his desk, elbows braced on the mahogany surface, fingers knotted in his hair like he’s trying to keep his head from splitting in two. The only light in the room comes from his phone, face-up on speaker, its glow harsh against the planes of his face.
“I understand, Mr. Harris,” Theo says. His voice lacks the bite it had this morning. It sounds hollow. “But the issue isn’t with my staff. It’s on the client’s side. They haven’t cleared the site for the sensor install. We can’t proceed until—”
Mr. Harris cuts him off. “Then you’ve mismanaged them. If they haven’t cleared the site, it’s because you’ve allowed them to believe delays are negotiable.”
Theo inhales slowly. “I’ll handle it.”
“You’d bloody well better. The only reason you’re even still in charge of this project is because replacing you would cause more disruption than tolerating you a little longer.”
Theo doesn’t respond right away. “I’ll be on the next flight to Amsterdam,” he says finally, voice low. “I’ll oversee the corrections personally. I’ll have my deputy take the Atlanta meeting.”
“Do whatever you like,” Mr. Harris replies. “The next update I receive will be a confirmation the fix is done, not an explanation.”
The line goes dead.
Theo sighs, stands, and turns his back on the desk. He faces the window, one hand braced against the glass, staring out at the darkening sky as if it might offer something other than judgment.
I step back before he can see me. If this were a binge-worthy K-Drama, I might be feeling something for the lead male character. Cue the tragic backstory, sad music, and realization that he’s “misunderstood.”
Except this isn’t television. I do feel a little bad for him. Mr. Harris is the company’s Chief Operating Officer, and he sounds like he’s a jerk. But after this morning, the petty side of me is also glad for him to be given a taste of his own medicine.
“Is someone there?” he calls out.
I take a breath, adjust my backpack, and step into the doorway as if I just arrived.
“Um . . . hi, Mr. Riverton,” I say, holding up the manila folder.
“Anya asked me to drop this off.” I set it down quickly.
“I know you’re busy, so I’ll just leave it here and go.
” I take a few retreating steps toward the door.
“Minami,” he says.
“Yes?”
“It’s Theo.” His brow arches. “Though most people around here prefer calling me by my surname.”
That’s what he chooses to say? Asking me to call him by his first name?
Something about that feels wrong. He’s British.
They’re the human embodiment of formality.
Plus, calling him Theo feels like something you’d do if you worked at Disney, where everyone from the popcorn guy to the CEO goes by their first name. He is not that type of person.
Up close, Theo Riverton is annoyingly . . . attractive. He’s tall and lean. The type of man who probably wakes up at five a.m. to run for pleasure. The horror. For reference, the only running I do is after our family dog when he decides squirrels are mortal enemies.
His navy shirt pulls across a set of broad shoulders. His sleeves are rolled to his elbow, revealing strong forearms and a smartwatch with a sleek chrome band. His hair is cut just long enough to hint it might fall into soft waves if he ever loosened up.
And now, thanks to Leon and Andy, I suddenly picture him deadpan in Mickey ears, surrounded by giggling tourists, like that old commercial where Darth Vader rides a carousel flanked by stormtroopers. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
“Okay, Riverton,” I say, the name feeling awkward. I can’t bring myself to call him Theo. It feels too intimate for right now.
“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize for my behavior during the morning meeting.
I was unprofessional, and I can promise you it won’t happen again.
” He exhales. “I’m sure it won’t be long before the office gossip tells you that whenever I return from the London office I’m . . . how to put it . . . volatile?
I’ve been trained all my life not to gape. But in this case, I can’t help myself. My jaw falls open wide enough to catch a bluefin tuna.
He clears his throat. “Anyway, I wanted to assure you that I don’t make it a habit of dismantling a new hire’s confidence in front of the entire team. Especially when Leon was right—your report was better put together than his.”
“Um, thanks? I . . . apology accepted.”
He nods. “Sharma tells me she’s moving you to the Medusa’s Fury project next week.”
“That’s right. She is.” My chin lifts.
“Good. Well . . . welcome to the team. Have a good night.”
“You too,” I squeak and scurry out of the room.
Andy and Derrick spot me from across the room and wave me over when I arrive at Mamma Lina’s.
Leon’s gesticulating wildly, telling a story, when I sit down, and for the first time all day, I relax. “Hey, glad you made it, kiddo,” he says, scooting over to make room for me.
“Trust me, nothing could’ve kept me away,” I say, reaching for the sweating glass of water in front of me.
The restaurant is tiny. There are only eight tables, each one covered with red-and-white checkered cloths.
Yellowing and slightly faded vintage posters of Rome, Venice, Pisa, and Florence adorn the walls.
The air smells like garlic, toasted bread, and tomato sauce.
Somewhere in the back, someone is singing loudly and slightly off-key in Italian over the clatter of pans.
Leon slides the breadbasket toward me with a flourish. “I secured this for you before the wolves descended.”
“I should’ve known you were hiding it,” Derrick gasps in betrayal.
Leon smirks. “Of course I hid it. I wasn’t about to let you heathens inhale it before Kaori even sat down. She’s never had Mamma Lina’s bread. And I’ve been building up how good it is all day.”
“Fair enough,” Andy agrees, bobbing his head up and down.