Chapter 51
Fifty-One
S ybil
I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier… or more terrified.
With one hand in mine and the other on the heavy glass door to the restaurant, Cooper pushes it open and leads me inside.
The warm wave of chatter and the savory aroma greeting us aren’t enough to soothe my nerves.
This is really happening—we’re going to introduce ourselves as a couple to our families.
“Hey, we’ve got this.” Cooper squeezes my hand. His voice is steady, so confident this is going to work out in our favor. I’m not so sure, but I nod along.
We walk through the restaurant as a united front. Mom and the boys are in Manhattan for the weekend to do some college shopping for Hayes, and Cooper’s father is home from a business trip. The timing felt fated.
The hostess directs us to a large table where familiar faces are awkwardly conversing. They all turn to look at us, and it only takes a second for me to gage everyone’s reactions.
Chandler’s sweet round face lights up like the Fourth of July, Ethan and Arden exchange smug “I knew it” expressions, Hayes rolls his eyes like an eighteen-year-old boy with better places to be, and Mom’s eyes widen with shock and maybe a little hurt, too.
Conrad’s new wife is as clueless as ever, blinking rapidly and pouting her lips.
And Conrad? Well, he’s the only one I can’t read.
“Hi, everyone,” I say, my voice more high-pitched than I intended. “Thanks for coming. We obviously have something to tell you.”
Cooper holds up our joined hands, brushing my knuckles against his lips for a quick kiss. “We’re dating,” he announces. No apologies or explanations and no room for negotiation.
There’s a pause, like everyone is taking a collective breath.
Arden is the first to break the silence, literally squealing and clapping her hands. “Perfect!”
Chandler jumps from his chair, knocking it over in the process. I think he’s about to jump into my arms, but he goes for Cooper. “Brother!”
Cooper chuckles but doesn’t correct him.
Chandler started calling Ethan “brother” the second he found out Arden was our sibling.
The way Cooper hugs my brother is incredibly endearing.
Cooper knows there could come a day when Chandler will live with me and rely on my help.
If Cooper wants to stay together for the long run, he knows I’m a package deal.
We find our seats, and Conrad leans across the table. “How long has this been going on?”
“Not long,” Cooper answers. “Only about a week.”
There’s a tightness in his jaw as he nods and reclines slightly, whispering something under his breath to his wife.
My mother gives them both the scathing side-eye.
Mom is clearly annoyed to be in his presence, especially with his young wife fawning all over him like he’s some sort of billionaire god.
“Well, congratulations,” Mom says to us. “A little sudden, but I hope it works out for you two.”
Does she mean that?
Honestly, I kind of doubt it. It’s not that Mom wishes for our demise, but we’re another couple tying her to Conrad.
“It will work out,” Cooper says, not the least bit ruffled by her comment.
My heart swells. I wish I had his confidence.
“Thought you two hated each other,” Hayes gripes. He takes a bite of bread, chewing and swallowing. “Last I heard, you’re still fighting over the company shares.”
Cooper gives Hayes a tight smile. “I don’t think we need to worry too much about that. If Top of the World does well, the shares will revert. With how well things are going on set, the show will be successful.”
Conrad steeples his hands together. “We’ve got a date set to air the first episode. September Twelfth.”
Two more months and the product of all our hard work will accumulate to one fateful evening. If the premier tanks, I’m screwed, but I feel in my bones that won’t be the case.
This thing is going to be huge.
“When do the promotions start?” Mom asks.
“Three weeks ahead of airing,” Cooper replies with a curt smile. “Enough time to get the word out, but not too long that the excitement wears off.”
I snort. “Oh, there is going to be plenty of excitement, no matter how early we market.”
The conversation gets easier from there.
Nobody brings up Dad or Victoria or the past. We may all be thinking about it—there’s an obvious undercurrent of distrust. It will probably always be present. I just hope we can let go of whatever distrust lingers between me and Cooper.
After dinner, I want to go home with Cooper, but I need to catch up on work.
I missed a lot while on Nantucket. So I give Cooper a kiss outside the restaurant and promise to meet up with him later.
He doesn’t protest. Like me, he values his work, so he understands why I sometimes slip away on weekends to go to the office.
Laurence International’s New York headquarters is like a second home to me, and the hum of the city follows me into the building, lingering as I push through the glass doors and take the elevator up to my floor.
It’s late, and the office is quiet—exactly the way I like it.
Planning the October gala looms over my head, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of what needs to be done.
Balancing an emergency coffee in one hand and my purse in the other, I stop short at a faint light spilling out from underneath my office door. Strange. There’s rarely anyone else here on Saturday evenings, and why would they be in my office?
The sound of a keyboard drifts out, and I speed walk to find Jonathan, my assistant, sitting at my desk.
His dress shirt is untucked at the sides, and his sleeves are rolled up.
There’s a notebook open next to him and as he relays information off my computer.
My heart pounds, equal parts irritation and confusion swirling through my chest.
What the hell is he doing at my desk? We set him up with his own cubicle, so there’s no reason for him to be in here.
“Can I help you?” My voice comes out sharper than intended as I barge into my own damn office.
Jonathan Vale looks up, startled. He’s in his mid-twenties, with gel-styled blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses that he adjusts as he stands.
“Oh, Ms. Laurence! Good evening. I didn’t expect you until Monday.” He flashes a snake-oil smile, entirely too comfortable for someone who has no business being in here.
“Why are you at my desk?” I told him not to touch anything until I could train him properly. If he’s going to be my assistant, then I should be the one to tell him what to do.
“I wanted to get ahead of things,” he says. “The donor call sheets are ready.” He gestures to a neat pile of documents on the corner of the desk. “And the RSVPs for the gala have been updated in the system. Oh, and the seating chart? All done.”
I stare, my coffee growing cold in my hand. The seating chart alone would have taken me hours, but it’s an incredibly important task and something I like to do with Miriam.
“You did all of that?” I raise a brow, pushing down my annoyance. Maybe he was trying to help. Maybe this job is important to him, and he’s a good kid, and I’m unfairly holding his uncle against him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He beams.
“Don’t call me ma’am.” I sigh, and he blanches. Fuck. How do I handle this properly?
Part of me wants to bark at him, tell him it’s not his place to make those decisions without consulting me, let alone infiltrate my office. But another part is begrudgingly impressed he did so much work with so little delegation.
I set my bag and coffee down and circle around to my chair as he steps out of the way.
“When you were hired, did HR not issue you your own computer?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“They did, but I needed the notes you saved in your files, and you were too busy to get back to me—” He quickly backpedals. “I mean… you were on holiday, so I wanted to help.”
I wouldn’t call my two weeks on Nantucket a holiday.
My eyes narrow. “How did you get access to my computer? Everything is password protected. There is sensitive information on here.”
Many of the emails I receive aren’t for anyone in the company to read. I have board meeting communications in there.
His eyes widen. “Password protected? I don’t think so.” He motions to the computer. “Here, check for yourself.”
With a huff, I open it, first logging out and then moving my mouse to prompt the login screen. I expect a prompt to enter my password to pop up, but the computer just asks me to hit enter.
“What the hell?” My body prickles with a deep sense of unease. “Someone messed with this.”
“It wasn’t me,” Jonathan says, but do I believe him?
My gut says no.
That said, I don’t have proof. I’ll have to talk to my boss on Monday and see if she knows anything. Maybe the tech department did something while I was gone.
“I hope you’ll understand I’m just trying to do my job,” Jonathan continues, his tone shaky.
I nod. “Very well, but please don’t use my computer again without my permission. It’s a violation of my privacy.”
His face pales. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Laurence.”
I wave him off. “I appreciate your enthusiasm. I’ll need to review all the work you’ve done. The seating chart especially.”
“Of course. It’s all here.” He slides the papers toward me.
I glance at them, then at him. He’s standing there like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head.
“Thank you for your hard work,” I say warily. “Next time, don’t assume you can tackle something as critical as the seating chart without checking with me first. You’re meant to be my assistant, not take over my job.”
“Understood,” he replies with a nod, but there’s a smug glint in his eye that unsettles me right to the bone.
I’m suddenly very suspicious that taking over my job is exactly what this man intends to do.
He is Lance Vale’s nephew, after all, and while this company has Laurence on the door, Vale has made it clear he doesn’t mind making as many adjustments to the company as needed to assert his power.
Shit. I need to watch out.
I smile as big as I can; two can be fake here. “Go home, Jonathan. Get some rest. First thing Monday morning, we have a lot of work to do. I’m pleased you’re my assistant.”
When I emphasize the word, he winces, and I know my suspicions are correct.
This is not a man who wants to be anyone’s assistant, and I highly doubt he believes he’ll have to wait long until he can move into my office permanently.
Jonathan is gunning for my job, and I’m sure his uncle was the one who is helping him do it.