Chapter Sixteen
It’s been six days without Wickham Liam Barrett.
“Without” is probably a misnomer. He still texts me every morning, although it hasn’t gotten spicy. Maybe he senses that I’ve shut down. Or maybe it hurts us both too much to play with that aspect of our relationship again.
It was, regrettably, fun to run from Wickham Barrett.
He’s still at the office too. He doesn’t bother me, but he set up his workstation in the empty room directly down the hall from mine. If I position my chair in a certain spot, I can see him through our glass-walled partitions.
I always sit there now, even though the sun catches my laptop screen and makes it near-impossible to see the plans I’m working on.
There used to be a lot of trees outside, but that forest fire burned the area so badly that the branches have yet to recover.
It’s the perfect analogy for my life right now.
Wickham Barrett has burned to ash everything I thought I knew and wanted, and I’m hesitant to grow anew.
Because I don’t know what to do.
Every day, on my desk, is one of Marni’s chocolate croissants waiting for me alongside my latte.
Violet stopped bringing me coffee on the second day. I think they’re talking and she doesn’t want me to know. I’d be insulted, but when push came to shove she chose me, so I know it’s more about her trying to encourage the happily ever after she thinks is best.
My office has also been renovated. And my apartment. He replaced my bed with a fluffy monstrosity that barely fits in the room but is probably necessary for a guy with his build.
He’s tried to give me space as much as his tendencies allow, like a skewed personal brand of groveling, and somehow, I like it.
Wickham Barrett is an immovable force that can be neither contained nor controlled, but he will for me.
“Annie?” Milton asks from the door, startling me from my mental wandering.
Shit, did I forget a meeting?
“I’m free, Milton. How can I help you?”
“I just wanted to say congratulations to you and Wickham. He’s a very good man.”
I do my best to hide how uncomfortable I am. Milton is still technically my boss, even if he’s got one foot out retirement’s door.
“That’s kind of you to say,” I reply instead of spilling all my insecurities.
“Also, excellent work on the Denman project. Really spectacular. I’m not surprised he did it; you’ve earned the chance for recognition.”
“He did what?”
“The partnership.”
I can’t let on that I have no idea what he’s talking about. It would expose the cracks in my and Wick’s relationship. Yet another reason why workplace romances are a terrible idea.
“Right, yes,” I mumble. “You know Wick. Always thinking ahead.”
I glance at my mate at the end of the hall. He’s wearing a dark gray suit today that hugs his legs and chest in a way that is practically obscene.
To make matters worse, he’s pacing around his office with one hand in a pocket and the other holding his cell to his ear casually, as if I don’t know he has his eyes always shifting to me.
“You understand he can’t have anything to do with the decision, of course. It’ll be up to a vote of the partners.”
Wick’s eye catches mine, and he stops pacing. He pauses mid-word to return my gaze.
“Mhmm,” I say, but I’m not really paying attention.
“They’ll want to defeat any appearance of nepotism, so they may be a bit harsh on you during the interview. Still, Alan had apparently been waiting for someone to recommend you, and I have every confidence in you.”
Interview?
What is he talking about?
I rewind the conversation for a moment until the pieces click into place.
“Milton, thank you. Forgive me, my memory is a little hazy. Is there a partnership position open?”
“Why, yes! I’m retiring. For good this time,” he says with a chuckle.
Wick says a few words into his phone, but he tilts his head at me in confusion. I’m not giving away to Milton how blood-boilingly angry I am, but I’m sure Wick can sense it.
“ Right, of course. You’re interviewing for replacements, and Wick suggested me.”
“Someone needs to run Mixed Use now that Alan’s managing partner. Wick thought it ideal since he doesn’t want to be involved in the day-to-day. Granted, he is here a lot, isn’t he?”
“Ah, yes . . . ”
This asshole.
This asshole seriously dug his meaty dragon claws into my career. It was bad enough when he bought the place, but giving me a promotion is a step too far.
I’ll earn my advancement, thank you very much.
“Thank you for your kind words, Milton. Speaking of my mate, I forgot I have a pressing matter to discuss with him. If you wouldn’t mind?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not one to stand in the way of young love.”
I give him a saccharine smile and storm—professionally—out of the office.
Wick’s body stiffens. He says a few words then removes the phone from his face to check it.
The device disappears into his pocket, but he’s going to need it to call emergency services when I’m done with him.
I glide into his office and politely close the office door.
When I swing around, he’s already there to invade my airspace.
“Do not yell in the office,” he says before I can unman him.
The breath I take should be calming, but it feels more like loading a weapon.
“You put me up for partnership,” I accuse.
“You’re the best candidate for the job.”
“Oh, bullshit. You can’t buy your way into my pants, Wickham Liam Barrett!”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I regret giving you my middle name.”
“You’ll regret a whole lot more if you don’t fix it.”
“I can’t. Milton and Alan agree. You’re the future here, gorgeous. You’re talented, brilliant, and poised—most of the time. You’ll make an excellent face of the company.”
“I cannot believe you did this. If you thought this was giving me space, you fail to understand the concept.”
He exhales and leans against the edge of his desk. His knuckles turn white gripping the blonde-wood ledge identical to my new office addition.
“I am trying, Annie. I truly am. Do you have any idea how hard it is not to charge into your office every single morning when you get here? I’d set up mine in yours and make you sit on my lap while we work if I thought you’d let me get away with it.”
That sounds nice.
Wait . . . No. No, it does not.
“What are you trying to accomplish here?” I ask. “I need you to back off.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to,” I reply.
His face breaks, but he slides the neutral mask back in place the moment the guard comes down.
“No, you don’t understand. I can’t. Being away from you is painful. Physically. It was bad enough when you spent so many weeks on the run, but we still talked. We had time together. I knew where you were and could watch you. I can’t do that anymore.”
“You mean to tell me you aren’t tailing me anymore? I believe that about as much as I believe the sky is purple.”
“They update me, but I don’t let them give me more than that. I can’t leave you out in the world alone. You’re too important. Watching you work all day is the closest I can get and it’s torture.”
He crosses his arms and hunches in before he continues.
“I’ve never felt this kind of acute agony. You’re there, in your office, but I can’t touch you.”
I have never seen this man, or any man, sink in on himself like this. It’s like he’s been stabbed in the gut. He hugs himself and cradles his body like his heart will fall from his chest if he doesn’t hold it in place.
“It’s that bad?” I ask.
“Yes. But I do it. For you.”
“I don’t want you to hurt, but that’s not a reason to be with you.”
“Then be with me for yourself. You feel nothing?”
Conflicting thoughts rampage in my mind. I can’t decide how to respond, so my mouth rambles with the questions I’ve been subconsciously avoiding for weeks.
“How do I know it isn’t magical mojo driving it all? What happens if it ever fades, or if I can’t live in the basement, or something shinier comes along? How can I know it’s genuine?”
The words spill out in a rush.
“Oh, Annie,” he says. He takes a cautious step forward, then another. When he’s close enough, he wraps his arms around me so my head rests on his chest.
“Do you hear that? My heart is for you and you alone. Yes, there’s a magic tie, but it’s not a guarantee. If it was, we wouldn’t need to bond. We could choose to reject it. You could choose to reject me.”
A keening, wailing objection sings in my bones.
I can never reject this man.
Wickham Barrett is unbearable, jealous, and unacceptably controlling.
But the idea of looking up from my laptop and not seeing him every day spurs tears to form in the corners of my eyes.
And he’s right. It’s not just the magic tying us together.
Magic is apathetic to how he takes care of me. It doesn’t connect us because he spent weeks understanding my needs and acting on them. It doesn’t tie us together based on how that smirk makes my blood rush in my veins.
Yes, I feel a pull to him, but it’s more like an arrow and not like a target.
Arrows can miss, but this one hasn’t.
“I don’t want to reject it,” I whisper.
His arms tighten on me, and he kisses the top of my head.
“Then tell me what you need.”
“No more meddling in my career.”
“I wasn’t—”
“I didn’t ask for commentary. No more meddling.”
I can feel his smile as he kisses my forehead.
“Yes, mate.”
The word mate skitters down my spine, but for the first time, it’s because I like it.
“And I’m keeping my apartment.”
“You’ll stay with me every night,” he says. There’s a bit of petulance in the tone, but I decide to compromise on this.
“I’ll stay with you as an assumption, but there might be times I need space.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You still have the nanny cam?”
He pauses long enough that I know the answer, but I want him to admit it anyway.
“Yes,” he finally responds.
Good.
“Then you know where I am when that happens once in a blue moon.”
He grumbles something under his breath that I take as acquiescence.
“And delete the mirror of Vi’s phone.”
“Annie.”
“Do it now, or I’m making you give her the same access.”
“I have privileged information on my phone. I own voting shares in 18 percent of the fortune 500.”
“And my mate views himself as my equal.”
“Call me your mate again, and I’ll let you delete it for me.”
I hold out my hand. “My mate trusts me and doesn’t need to spy through my best friend.”
His calculating gaze dissolves into this satisfied smile that feels as warm as a summer’s afternoon.
He keys in a few commands and holds the screen up so I can see him hit the “DELETE” option.
“Anything else?” he asks.
Thoughts skim across the surface of my mind, but nothing disturbs the peace there.
For the first time in my life, I’m confident this will work out even if I’ve forgotten something.
When I don’t respond, Wick uses a gentle tone to prod me to give him the agreement he’s desperate for.
“Then give us a try?” he asks. “One chance. I wasn’t in your plans, but I’d like to be someone who helps you make them in the future.”
A long beat passes. I could tell him I don’t want to. I doubt he’d accept it, but I’d find a way to break free of him.
I could rej—
No, I can’t.
I can’t even say it.
There is no circumstance in which I want to let go of him.
“Yes,” I murmur. It barely leaves my lips. Fear cascades down on me, and I stiffen in his arms.
He thumbs my jaw so I’ll meet his eye.
“Yes?” he asks, and I know he needs to hear it. I can sense it in how tense he is.
He needs the reassurance—not only that I won’t run again, but that if I do, it’ll be toward him.
“Yes,” I confirm.
He smiles, and it’s this broad, unrestrained, abject joy that’s infectious.
Wickham Liam Barrett, 241, Investment Banking , kisses me ferociously as his hands roam over my hips, and things become very NSFW despite the glass.
“Wick,” I chide.
“Later, Annie. And, fate willing, every day again.”