Chapter 3
Chapter Three
AUDRA
By midafternoon, I’ve already had one too many cups of bad coffee.
HR’s break room brew is borderline criminal, and I’ve learned that if I want something drinkable, the executive floor is worth the walk. Fewer people. Better beans. Less regret.
I’m halfway through pouring my cup when Jamie appears in the doorway, tablet tucked under her arm like she’s just stepping in for a routine refill.
She doesn’t say anything at first. Just shuts the door behind her.
That’s when I know.
“They were talking about it,” she says.
I glance over the rim of my mug. “Talking about what?”
“You,” she clarifies, already grinning. “Well. About him and you.”
I blink. “You’re going to have to narrow that down.”
“Derek,” she says. “Mark. Alex. Door closed. Voices low. The whole ‘boys club conspiracy’ vibe.”
Despite myself, I smile. “And?”
“He had no idea.”
My smile fades. “No idea about…?”
Jamie scoffs. “About you liking him.”
I stare at her. “How could he not know?”
She shrugs. “He’s a dumbass?”
“Well,” I admit, “that part tracks.”
She laughs. “You’ve been obvious, Audra. For months.”
“I have not.”
She gives me a look. “You absolutely have.”
I lean back against the counter, folding my arms. “Okay, maybe I didn’t throw myself at him like his usual stage-five clingers. But I was clear. Professional-clear. Competent-clear.”
“Which is apparently invisible to men like Derek Pierce,” Jamie says. “Especially when it comes wrapped in boundaries.”
I sigh and take a sip of my coffee. “So what did they say?”
Jamie’s grin turns smug. “Mark thinks you want him. Alex thinks you’re going to destroy him. Derek thinks you hate him.”
I laugh. “I do hate him.”
“But you still want him.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
Jamie raises a brow. “You need someone who doesn’t fold.”
I shake my head. “Wanting someone and hating them are not mutually exclusive.”
“No,” she agrees. “Especially not in your case.”
I watch the coffee swirl in my mug. “I don’t respond to easy.”
Her smile softens just a touch. “Exactly.”
She glances at the clock on the wall. “They were talking about going to The Vault tonight.”
My pulse skips. Just slightly.
“The Vault?” I repeat casually.
“VIP section. Bottle service. Derek in his natural habitat.”
I pretend to consider this, tapping my nail against the ceramic mug. “That place is impossible to get into.”
She grins. “Levi could probably work some magic.”
I smile despite myself. “Levi could talk his way into the Pentagon.”
“Then you should ask him,” Jamie says. “Because I would very much like to see Derek Pierce out of his work element and in the 'player' one I've heard so much about.”
I laugh. “You enjoy chaos.”
“I enjoy watching chaos,” she corrects. “Especially when it’s deserved.”
I glance around the quiet break room. “You sure you want to step into that danger zone?”
She stretches. “It’s been way too long since I’ve been out. I need loud music, good drinks, and a man who doesn’t know my last name.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“Therapeutic,” she insists. “And Shannon better be invited or she’ll never forgive you.”
I smile. “Shannon is basically an extension of me when we go out.”
“Exactly.”
Debra from accounting pokes her head into the doorway. “Did I just hear something about danger zones and poor decision-making?”
Jamie beams. “You absolutely did.”
Debra sighs. “You watch too many crime shows. You’re going to end up kidnapped.”
“Or married,” Jamie counters.
“Which is worse,” Debra mutters, disappearing down the hall.
I snort and pull my phone from my pocket. “I’ll call Levi.”
He answers on the second ring.
“Tell me you want to go out,” he says immediately.
“I want to go out.”
“And you want into The Vault.”
I pause. “How did you—”
“Because I know you,” he replies smugly. “And because Derek Pierce only goes there when he wants to be seen.”
Jamie mouths oh damn.
“Can you get us in?” I ask.
There’s a beat. “Yes. But I’m coming too.”
“Obviously.”
“And I get veto power over your outfit.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Yes,” he insists. “Because if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
I laugh. “Fine.”
When I hang up, Jamie claps her hands once. “It’s on.”
I take one last sip of my coffee and set the mug aside, suddenly aware of a familiar pull I refuse to name.
Tonight isn’t about Derek Pierce.
It’s about fun. About music. About reminding myself that I don’t orbit anyone—not even a man who looks at me like he doesn’t know whether to argue or kiss me.
Still…
If Derek happens to notice?
Well.
I won’t stop him.