Chapter 16 #2
A giant, intricate mural of a Claudina Agrias Butterfly is painted in muted pinks and blues, a beautiful symbol and tribute to Camila. She believed that butterflies symbolized the afterlife, and by naming her precious daughter Claudina, she ensured that her soul would live on.
Leo squeezes my hand, smiling softly. “I have a few meetings around town, and then I’ll finish the day at home. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”
“Yeah sure. Sounds good.”
“If you ever need a minute, you can lock yourself in here. That button blacks out the glass. Headphones are in the drawer.”
“Thanks?” I offer, half-laughing.
“I meditate in front of the mural every morning. Keeps me grounded and close to her.”
His words surprise me. I don’t say anything as he walks down the hall toward Claud, who’s sprinted ahead of us, waiting not so patiently for him.
“Wait!” Claud yells and then rushes back toward me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I almost forgot to give you this.” She digs into her backpack, then hands me a beautiful picture frame.
It’s a photo of me and her from this past winter when Harrison brought her to one of Mason’s playoff games. “So you can put it on your desk.”
“I love it so much.” I hug it to my chest.
I give her another kiss goodbye, and then she’s off as quickly as she came.
“Are you Madeline?”
I stand up tall and extend my hand. “I am. Madeline Cunningham.”
“Lincoln Sutherland. But you can call me Linc. Nadia told me you arrived, and I promised to give you the more exciting tour rather than the official one.”
“Oh, I’d love that.”
He smiles, and I ignore how he looks me up and down.
I may have given him the once-over too, just a little more discreetly than he did.
I’ve made it two whole weeks, and so far, everything is running smoothly.
The only thing that’s shocked the heck out of me is that my fun-loving, sarcastic Leo is a hard-ass to work for.
He doesn’t deal with anyone’s bullshit, constantly putting down the gauntlet. I’ve even been scared of him in meetings several times over the past couple of weeks.
Leo: Hey, can you bring me the blueprints for the Pink Tiger project before the meeting starts? I want to look over something.
Speak of the devil.
Sure, be there in ten.
Today’s a big deal, and my nerves are on fire.
When Leo asked me to join him and two others on the Pink Tiger project, named after the client’s daughter’s favorite color and animal, I was honored and equally terrified.
My first project at M-Squared, alongside Leo, will allow me to show not only him but also the rest of the team why I’m qualified to be here.
No pressure at all.
Not only am I the newbie, but I was handpicked over Linc, and the whispers say he’s less than thrilled.
Still, I know I’ve earned this.
I won’t let anyone question Leo’s decision, least of all myself.
I smooth out my skirt, tug a brush through my ponytail, and grab my lip balm before gathering the blueprints and documents for the meeting that are stacked neatly on my desk.
I’m in a black calf-length leather skirt that hugs my curves, respectably, of course, paired with a black turtleneck.
I’m taller than usual, which gives me some confidence in my new black patent Saint Laurent stilettos that Mase surprised me with.
My long hair is up in a sleek ponytail, curled at the ends, and my fringed bangs are just brushing my brows.
Today I chose my black-rimmed glasses over contacts.
I feel powerful, I remind myself. I’m ready for this.
“Come in,” Leo says as I approach.
He’s pacing, hands trembling as he takes the prints from me.
Good, at least he’s nervous too.
We move to the drafting table in the corner. He lays everything out and studies it like he’s seeing it for the first time.
“To confirm. Functionality and flow look okay on the top two floors?”
“Yes.” I point to the part we fixed on Tuesday, then open AutoCAD on my tablet to show him more. “By moving the bathrooms, we have a better flow in the kitchen and collaborative areas, making the layout more efficient for the intended use.”
He nods. “And we considered natural light and all the environmental factors the best we could. We’re not missing anything.”
“No. I have all the information the client will need to decide if they’d like to go the sustainable route and how that would change on the blueprints, as well as cost and long-term goals.”
That’s my niche; it’s what I bring to the table over others. I’ve studied sustainability in urban settings since college, and I can’t wait to put it to good use.
He blows out a breath and says more to himself. “Okay. You’re right. We’re ready.”
“We are.” I grab his hand and smile. “In case I haven’t told you, I’m so proud of you. What you’ve built here is incredible.”
“You have often, but boosting my ego a little more doesn’t hurt.” He winks, and I chuckle, following him into the conference room.
“We understand that sustainability can come with a higher initial price tag, such as high-efficiency systems and green materials. But those investments are not expenses without return. They’re a conscious decision directly impacting operating costs, tenant satisfaction, and long-term asset value.
Not to mention your brand’s public image.
Which is why sustainability is fast becoming an expectation. ”
Skip, our client, doesn’t say much; he just nods along as I speak.
I side-eye Leo to ensure I’m on the right track, and he gestures encouragingly, so I continue with the savings projections.
“For cost, let’s take energy. With improved insulation, smart lighting, and efficient HVAC, we’re projecting a thirty percent reduction in use. That’s millions saved over the building’s lifetime, not to mention tax incentives and LEED certification bonuses.”
Skip holds up his hand, stopping me mid-spiel.
“You’ve impressed me, Madeline. I don’t need to hear more. Let me review the documents and we’ll schedule a follow-up next week.” He turns to Leo, dismissing me, and I’m freaking out on the inside.
He’s impressed.
The team escorts Skip to the elevator when Leo pulls me aside and leans in so no one else hears. “You fucking killed it, Maddie. Meet me in conference room two to debrief. I need to make a quick call. I should be five, ten minutes tops.”
Buzzing, I all but skip to the conference room, debating whether I have time to call Mase or Addie to tell them.
“Oh, Madeline.” Lizzy, Leo, and Nate’s assistant almost barrels into me. “I’m sorry. I’m a whirlwind today.”
“No worries. I was lost in my own mind.” I take in the piles of documents she’s holding. “Can I help you with something?”
“You’re not going to the west wing by chance, are you?”
“I am. I’m meeting Leo in conference room two.”
With no hands available, she asks if I can help with the hair in her face. “Thanks. Could you also take the stack on top?”
I grab a few printed pitch decks and mood boards that are piled high.
“Where do you want them?”
“You’re a lifesaver. Can you drop them off on Nate’s desk, please?” She rushes off, leaving me stunned and unable to move.
I’ve avoided his office like the plague.
Like a scared kid in a dark basement, any time I have to walk by, I power walk as fast as possible so I have no time to peek in.
Grow up. You can do this, Madeline.
The clicking of my heels suddenly echoes, bouncing off the walls, as I inch forward, regulating my breathing before I open his door.
For God’s sake, it’s just his office, not his bedroom.
I step in, and involuntarily, my eyes close. My senses are instantaneously overwhelmed with the familiar scent of Nate as a rush of nostalgia invades my mind.
Which is ridiculous because he hasn’t been here in weeks.
I take a few more breaths, stealing the forbidden moment for myself, where later, I’ll bask in the moment alone in my room because engaged girls don’t think like this.
When I place the pile of documents on his desk, I pause, wondering if it would be so bad if I took a quick peek at his office.
I knew this would happen, that I’d want to snoop if I stepped foot in here, and it’s one of the many reasons I stayed away.
What good would it do my mental health?
But now…I’m here, and his space is calling my name.
It’s similar to Leo’s, as it’s a corner office with oversized windows, enclosed by glass walls that are currently frosted enough that no one can see in.
Thankfully.
The one solid wall behind his desk is brick, no doubt original to the building. The ceilings are tall, with exposed piping and black beams, and his desk is a matching oversized black metal industrial-style table.
I do something even more stupid than snooping. I sit in his plush high-back leather office chair, which is a unique color that can only be described as burnt orange, and let myself feel Nate in a way I haven’t for years.
He hasn’t been in the office for weeks, yet his presence is felt throughout the space.
Maybe it’s because his office is exactly how I would have pictured it—industrial, masculine, and rich in luxury—and it feels familiar to me.
I lean my head back and spin around, coming face to face with a credenza full of picture frames.
My lips tilt, smiling wide. Almost all of them are filled with Claudina, and most of those are her in a pink tutu.
Then I stop at one frame that stands out from the rest.
The blood drains from my face. Staring back at me in the picture…is me.
Us.
Without a second’s thought, I reach forward and pick it up to give it a better inspection.
It’s of Nate and me, and it’s not just one picture but a collage of some of our happiest memories.
For a while, I stare dumbfounded, unsure how to react because my immediate thought surprises me.
We look like we belong together.
For a long time, I couldn’t look at a picture of Nate without feeling red-hot anger.
There were times I felt sadness and a loss that I didn’t want to dive into, but mostly, it was resentment.
Not sure when that stopped, because I don’t feel any of those feelings at the moment.
“We were always good together, Mads.” Nate’s deep baritone has me dropping the frame like a hot potato.
Luckily, it lands in my lap as I spin around in his office chair. I don’t attempt to get up. Instead, I stare at him, unable to speak, because he’s stolen all the air from my lungs.
I haven’t been this close to Nate in years, and holy hell, time has been on his side.
He’s gorgeous.
Not that he wasn’t always. But now his boyish charm has turned into that of a sophisticated man.
When he pushes off the door frame in his fitted jeans, black T-shirt, and blazer, my sudden haze clears, and I snap back to reality.
I drop the photo and stand in a rush.
“What are you doing here?” I splutter.
He raises a brow, holding back his smile as his lips twitch. “In my office?”
Panic starts to take over, and a cold sweat trickles down my back. “No, back in New York. Leo said you wouldn’t be here for a while. That you were in London.”
“I came back early to talk to you, Mads.”
I want to tell him not to use that name, that he no longer has the right, but the words are stuck in the back of my throat.
I gather my belongings and round his desk. “I need to go.”
“Please.” His voice is urgent. “Stay and let’s talk.”
“It’s too late, Nate. Too much time has passed.”
He leans his behind against his desk and crosses his ankles in front of him. He clenches his jaw, and I can see the tic as he reels in his annoyance. “Whose fault is that, Maddie? I’ve been trying to talk to you for years, and you haven’t given me one second of your time.”
He must be joking.
“Are you being serious right now?” I laugh sarcastically, suddenly feeling manic. “You’re blaming this on me, Nathaniel? Really?”
He stands tall, shaking his head, realizing his mistake. “No. I fucked up. But you never gave me a chance to redeem myself. People make mistakes.”
“This was so much more than a mistake,” I yell, throwing my arm up. “A mistake is when you forget a birthday. A mistake is failing to pick up the dry cleaning. It is not a mistake when you blindside the person who has loved you unconditionally since the day she met you,” I cry aloud.
I watch, confused, as Nate fights a smile. “You still care, Mads. You getting this upset over our past proves it.”
“Oh, fuck.” Leo comes rushing in, his eyes bouncing between us, then he directs his annoyance at his brother. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“So you didn’t know? I thought maybe this was some brotherly game the two of you are playing, so you could trap me.”
Leo freezes, and horror dawns on me when his face falls sympathetically.
“You must be fucking kidding me,” I screech. “How could you!”
“Maddie, let me explain.”
Nate’s eyes narrow. “Since when do you say fuck?”
Leo growls, annoyed. “Shut up. That’s not important right now, Nate.”
Then Leo turns his attention toward me. “I have never lied to you in all the time I’ve known you, so please believe me when I tell you that this position was always yours.
Did I offer it earlier than expected? Yes, I won’t lie about that.
But your qualifications, portfolio, and overall work ethic are impeccable, and I don’t need to tell you that because you already know how brilliant you are.
I also would never jeopardize our company or lose the trust of my other staff by hiring someone inadequate. ”
If this were anyone else but Leo, I would turn, walk out the door, and never look back. But even though it pains me to say it, I trust every word he says
“Fine. I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”
“Mads…”
I brush past Nate, ignoring him and his desperate pleading until his fingers graze my arm and awaken every nerve that’s been dormant for years.
He snags my left hand, and my heart drops.
I try to pull it away, but he brings my hand up to his face, which has turned murderous.
“This ring is not you.”
I snatch back my hand and narrow my eyes. “Don’t act like you know me anymore.”
His blazing blues connect with mine. “You’re mistaken, Maddie Grace Cunningham.
You see, I still know every single thing that’s important, and that ring”—he points to my finger—“is all fucking wrong. Only one type of ring should be on your finger—a perfect emerald, to match your eyes.” He begins to walk past me out the door, then stops short.
“So I have to wonder, did he ignore your dream ring, or did you not tell him?”
I turn toward him to give him a piece of my mind when I see the whole office standing, watching our interaction in the doorway.