Chapter 3 Lincoln
Lincoln
There was something gratifying about watching everyone walk into the office, bleary-eyed and caffeine-dependent, while I was already halfway through my first set of emails. I was sure it had helped me get this promotion.
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows and caught a glimpse of Lake Michigan behind the skyscraper across the street.
I loved looking as ruthless as I felt—tailored tan blazer, crisp indigo shirt, hair pushed back immaculately.
Unbreakable. That was the goal. My dimples showed in the reflection, an asset of mine that helped me appear warm and unthreatening whenever I needed.
Behind me, the door opened without a knock. Only one person entered my office that way.
“Natasha,” I said, not turning around.
“Good morning to you too.” Her voice carried her natural edge of fabricated sweetness. Her heels clacked against the tile floor as she approached. “I forgot to tell you about my little errand yesterday.”
She was perched on the edge of my desk, so close our legs brushed as I faced her.
Her red lips curled into a smile that never reached her eyes.
Her hair shone in the early morning light, looking expensive, artificial.
She blended seamlessly into our world of inflating the value of products and people.
Best to have her on your side than against you.
“What errand?” I asked, taking another sip of coffee. She loved teasing with information I didn’t have, and I loathed jumping through hoops to get it.
“That girl,” she drawled, “Nina Reyes.”
I clenched my right hand inside my pocket. “What about her?”
“She’s working at some cupcake shop. Reality something. Charming, really. Smelled of vanilla and desperation.” Natasha tilted her head. “She said I had something to hide. Can you believe it?”
Her lips twitched and she avoided my gaze, lowering hers to her shoes. “Tasha …,” I grunted, “what did you do?”
She winced, her shoulders straightening. “I did what you said …,” she mumbled.
I took a few seconds to think about it. Then I knew.
We were having a work dinner at an Italian restaurant.
We’d had wine, discussed the Infinity Weddings logo.
She’d thrown herself at me, again. And that time, I let her, and we ended on the floor of my bedroom, with me fucking her on all fours.
She’d stayed the night, and in between her blowing me and us screwing again, I’d mentioned how I had my eyes on this promotion.
How Nina had a good shot at it. How easy it’d be to improve her presentation when she sent it to us.
I faced the skyline. She’d fucked with Nina’s slides.
Almost costing the company a career-changing client, but also ensuring I got this creative director title.
I fought to keep the emotions—irritation, amusement, calculation—from my expression.
It all gathered and coiled high in my chest. “Did you tell her what you did?”
Natasha examined her nails, already dismissing the encounter. “Well, of course not. But contrary to what you said, she’s not stupid, Lincoln. She suspects.”
“Does she, though?” I stepped aside and turned to Natasha again. “If she really did, she wouldn’t be playing baker. She’d raise hell for wrongful termination and go after you.”
Natasha grimaced. “Me?! I only did what you asked! I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t said it needed to be done.” She smirked. “I thought you’d be thankful, baby. I made sure you got this fancy corner office.”
“You overstepped,” I stated, sitting back down. She reached for my hand, but I moved it away.
“I went after what I wanted.”
“Please,” I scoffed. “If you wanted a chance at that promotion, you should just do your fucking job rather than ride on my coattails.”
“Come on.” A sultriness overtook her lips now. “You know I ride other things …”
“Not funny.” I clenched my fists tight enough for my nails to dig into my palms. “I needed no help getting this role.”
“Maybe not, Linc. I guess we’ll never know.” Her red lips curled, showcasing her performative smile, a subtle wobble threatening to break through. She leaned toward the edge of the desk, her knees almost touching me. “You’re so sure I wasn’t even a runner up in those conversations. I do—”
I pursed my lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You do font work, Tasha.” I hardened my gaze. “If this gets out, no one else will hire you. You fucked up.”
“Maybe we fucked up.” She licked her lips.
“After all, I would not have come up with this on my own. And you’re reaping the benefits.
You’re lucky to have someone so … invested in your career.
” She uncrossed her legs. “Besides, who’d say anything?
You? That would kill your prospects as much as mine. ”
I dropped my head back against my chair. What a fucking mess. She had a point, though. The best course of action for me was to make sure her wrongdoing stayed hidden. Keep your friends close …
Leaning forward, I said, “Let’s make sure it doesn’t leave this room. You covered your tracks?”
“Like it never happened,” Natasha said, she arched her back, pushing her breasts up. I wrapped a strand of her hair around my index finger, smiling. Then I clicked my mouse to wake the sleeping screen, dismissing her without words.
She stood, and her side brushed mine, and her perfume clung to my jacket. “We’re still on for dinner with the Infinity Weddings team tonight?”
“Yes.”
Her hand skimmed my arm, featherlight. “Wear the navy suit.”
“Natasha …” She turned, curls spilling over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me what to wear.”
She left without answering, and the click from the door closing behind her echoed in my office.
I exhaled slowly, gazing back at the lake.
Nina Reyes. Ever since she had moved in next door, she’d taken up more of my energy than she deserved.
She showed up with her long raven-black hair in a ponytail, denim overalls cut at mid-thigh, and the saddest fucking eyes I’d ever seen.
When her brown gaze met mine, I found myself staring at the endless well of my own sorrow, and I knew in my bones that Nina Reyes was my soulmate.
Hope bloomed inside me that we’d have each other. She’d tell me about her parents; I’d tell her about my mom. We’d help each other hold onto our grief while the world around us moved on too soon.
I’d asked her out without thinking; we could hang out or walk. She’d say yes, no way around it, she had to have seen we were the same. Yet, she looked at me as if I’d slapped her, insulted by the idea of us. Could she not feel that the only way forward was together?
She wanted to keep all the pain to herself, as if she was the only one with the right to grieve. Fine. Death hurt, I fucking knew. She wanted to go through her pain alone? Then I’d fucking help her.
Still … a cupcake shop, scraping together tips, and becoming a fucking charity case.
I hadn’t seen that coming. Sure, I’d screwed her over by gossiping about her in one workroom at a different marketing firm, but there were the suburbs, lesser-known firms. She had options.
The thought clung to the edge of my mind, persistent the way an itch I couldn’t reach would be.
Nina was nothing of mine. Had never been. She’d shut that down.
Natasha and I arrived early to dinner with the Infinity Weddings team. It was damage control disguised as celebration—our chance to solidify their confidence after the chaos of Nina’s presentation. Chaos created by the woman next to me. Fuck me.
Waiting at the bar, I ordered a whiskey neat for myself and a glass of red wine for Natasha.
She toyed with the stem, swirling the liquid idly.
When Carmen finally arrived, I ordered her a wine as well.
Natasha pursed her lips, but she recovered quickly, draping an arm around Carmen’s shoulders, all glossy hair and subtle smugness.
Carmen wore a dark-red-and-black sheath dress, professional but flattering, with a slit up to her mid-thigh I couldn’t help but follow as the fabric dropped and exposed the back of her leg when she crossed them. Natasha dug her nails into my forearm.
“To Carmen,” Natasha said brightly, raising her glass. “For saving our marketing proposal from the clusterfuck her predecessor left it in.”
Carmen gave a small smile, cheeks flushing as she clinked her glass against Natasha’s.
“It was actually easy,” she said, sweeping her hair over one shoulder.
She switched her stare to me, detached and assessing.
“I managed to recover some files that had been trashed. The presentation wasn’t fully complete, but there was enough there to see what that girl was trying to do.
Honestly, I don’t know how she fumbled it so badly. What I found was pretty brilliant.”
A slow smile pulled at Natasha’s lips, but my gaze stayed locked on Carmen. “You recovered them from her drive?” I asked, swirling the amber liquid in my glass.
Carmen shook her head. “No, from the server backups. I’ve learned to keep copies across drives.” She shrugged, taking a sip of wine. “I like to keep receipts.”
Natasha chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Carmen held my eyes, unblinking.
“Smart,” I said, letting approval tint my voice just enough to soothe her ego. My chest tightened with the pressure to do damage control. “Maybe you should share that presentation with me, you know? Nina could add it to her portfolio. It’d help her.”
Carmen’s lips curled as she nodded. “Of course. I’m always happy to help, especially if she’s as good as her work suggests.”
Unlike Nina, Carmen was cautious, self-preserving, quietly suspicious of everyone. She’d last longer. She flicked her focus from me to Natasha, then her gaze settled on me, newly promoted director.
Natasha leaned forward, resting her hand lightly on my forearm. “Relax, Lincoln,” she purred, her breath warm against my ear. “Tonight is about celebrating.”
Carmen’s gaze remained steady, her polite smile not quite touching her eyes. She wasn’t naive enough to believe this business was clean; she was filling some blanks, with a warning to not fuck with her.
After dinner with Curt and the higher-ups from Infinity Weddings died down, Natasha talked me into joining her and Carmen for one more drink at the bar next door. It was a simple yet elegant place—low lighting, dark wood, expensive cocktails.
Once we made it to the bar, Natasha stayed close to my side, her perfume cloying as she leaned on me, sharing observations about everyone in the room.
It was one of her stupid drinking games based on people’s body language.
Carmen sat across from us, swirling her wine slowly, eyes crinkling at the edges before smoothing out.
Natasha twirled a lock of her red hair, then pointed at a group of three in a corner booth. “Look at the way she plays with her necklace and leans into the guy in the blazer. She has a crush on him. Judging by how he leans away, he’d rather fuck a duck.”
“Ew,” Carmen said, chuckling. “What about those two at the end of the bar?”
Natasha glanced over, her eyes sharpening as she assessed them—a woman in jeans and a man in full business attire. “That’s the opposite. He’s into her, but she couldn’t care less.”
Carmen curved her lips, one corner lifting unevenly, and clicked her tongue.
“Alright, my turn. This guy in the gray suit”—she nodded at me—“and the woman in the green dress”—she gestured to Natasha—“she keeps trying to put her hands on him, sometimes casual, sometimes more aggressive. Look at that hand on his neck, brushing skin rather than clothing. He’s comfortable enough but never reciprocates or initiates.
It’s only going to leave her craving more. ”
Natasha froze for half a second before letting out a low laugh, her eyes narrowing slightly. I said nothing, taking another sip of my whiskey, letting the burn drown out the spark of annoyance in my chest.
“A word of caution,” Carmen added, “don’t let whatever this is get in my way at work.
Or I may forget how to keep a secret.” She stood, smoothing her dress over her hips, and dropped a twenty on the counter.
Without another glance at either of us, she turned and walked out, her heels clicking in even, deliberate steps.
I watched her go, and Natasha huffed and puffed about how Carmen dared say she was throwing herself at me, and that it was mutual. It wasn’t. She did throw herself at me. Tonight was no exception. My focus, though, stayed on the bar door long after Carmen had disappeared into the night.
I left Natasha and took a car home. It wasn’t even that late by the time I arrived.
I owned a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment in a modern building on the lakefront.
Gazing out the window, I focused on the lights flickering in the horizon, while the blackness of the lake at night dominated the view.
For a moment, I didn’t recognize the man looking back at me in the reflection.
He showed a certain strain and weightedness that I didn’t like seeing there.
My phone buzzed, and a text from Natasha flashed across the screen.
Natasha: Thinking of you.
Ignoring it, I opened the email from Infinity Weddings again. I read the extensive praise for Carmen’s strategy adjustments, her digital creativity, her execution. Her name was in bold four times, yet mine appeared only once, buried in a general closing line thanking the team.
Annoyance crawled up my spine. Winning this client was no longer just my doing. However, it wasn’t Carmen’s either. She’d admitted she used Nina’s initial draft. Nina was the only one without any acknowledgment.
I set the phone down on the kitchen counter and poured myself another scotch.
As I brought it to my lips, her face flashed across my mind, unbidden.
Nina Reyes looking around and then at me during that terrible presentation.
Hoping to be saved. Didn’t she know I never would?
She should have learned that lesson in high school.