Chapter 9- Red Tape
Lizzie had managed to dodge the boss’s office like a disobedient teen dodging the principal for the rest of the week. One more week with Carlota’s team, and she’d happily leave the labyrinth of accounting behind—though she would miss her new friend.
She came home to George again in the house. He and Lidia were spending serious time together now; affection was unmistakable.
Lizzie had grown accustomed to George’s presence when she got home most days.
Often times they’d share a beer and chat as Lidia finished getting ready.
The talk was light, usually just some anecdote about a recent party or encounter while out and about, or some funny story about someone Lizzie had met.
It was light conversation and a welcome relief from the tense days of spreadsheets and numbers.
They didn’t bring up the awkward cheek kiss or absent texts, to Lizzie’s relief, and although Abuela had kept a skeptical view of him, Lizzie had grown fond of him and felt they had become true friends.
“Do you and Lidia have plans tonight?” Lizzie asked, rummaging for food.
“Yes, taking her to dinner,” George said. Then, quieter, “You don’t hate me?” It was the first time either of them had even alluded to their potential initial interest.
Lizzie almost laughed. “For what? You two are a good match. I don’t mourn things I never had. I’m glad I introduced you.”
And the truth was, she meant it. The awkward cheek kiss already felt like a distant, irrelevant memory. This — easy, light, no expectations — was exactly what she wanted.
George looked relieved. “Good. And I’m glad we were able to bond over a mutual dislike of a certain arrogant ass.”
“And this,” Lizzie handed George a beer. “This has been really nice.”
George smiled, seeming to understand. “Yeah, I think no matter what, we will always share a special connection.”
The final accounting week ended on Halloween.
The company threw its annual rooftop party, and Lizzie learned—too late—that costumes were expected.
She improvised: black fitted trousers, black cotton blouse, black pumps.
After work, Carlota—full pirate regalia—wrapped red caution tape around Lizzie’s torso like a harness, tight around the waist so that it cinched her curves.
“?Estás tremenda!” Carlota declared, stepping back to admire her handiwork. (You look tremendous!)
“Thanks. Not bad for last-minute.”
Lizzie had never been on the rooftop of Pemberley Pharmaceuticals before. She wasn’t prepared for the scale of it: passed hors d’oeuvres, two bars, a DJ spinning Latin house, string lights dripping over the railing, and a Miami skyline that could hush even its harshest critics.
“All this for Halloween?” she asked, incredulous.
“The boss is uptight, but he takes care of his people,” Carlota said. “Work hard, play hard.”
Lizzie filed that away—a surprise from Will.
She scanned the crowd and saw several of the people she’d been working with over the last few weeks: Ignacio as a construction worker, Jim as Buddy Holly, Carolina in her usual pencil skirt and blouse but with cat ears, and Charles in chainmail and plastic sword.
Will wore dark slacks, a white tee stretched across his chest, and a black leather jacket, curls slicked back.
Greaser. Effortlessly, infuriatingly hot.
She felt Will’s eyes on her from the moment she’d arrived.
Maybe he thought the invite shouldn’t have extended to her?
Lizzie dipped into the crowd before he could say anything, just in case.
After a while, Lizzie wondered if she should start plotting her exit.
She had danced with Carlota first — a quick, silly twirl to the Latin house beat that left them both laughing.
Ignacio had dragged her into a group photo, caution tape harness gleaming under the lights.
She’d even let Jim convince her to try a Halloween-themed shot (something neon and terrible).
For a few minutes, she’d felt like she was among friends, almost forgetting that this was a work function. But then she’d catch Will watching her again.
Not staring — just… watching. Like he was trying to memorize every move. Like he was recording her actions; commuting them to memory.
Each time their eyes met, he looked ready to cross the roof. Each time, he didn’t.
She told herself it was the costume, the lights, the shots. Maybe he didn’t approve of the level of fraternization she was engaging in with his team.
She told herself she didn’t care and tried to keep herself from scanning for him. She finally managed to put him out of her mind when he materialized at her side.
“Red tape?” His gaze traveled over the harness and lingered.
“Scariest thing in corporate America,” she teased.
Will swallowed hard and took a long pull from his drink. “Lizzie, I’ve been trying to talk to you for a while. I kept hoping these feelings would fade so I’d never have to say this. They haven’t.” He met her eyes and put his drink down like it weighed a thousand pounds. “Go out with me.”
Lizzie blinked. “Like… a date?”
He looked almost pained. “Yes. I ardently admire and love you. Your mind, your fire, your impossible ideas. I want you—not as a consultant.”
The world tilted. Lizzie was completely aww-struck. She managed to say, “I’m sorry. No.”
Will nodded once, already bracing. “I know you work for me. Once the contract ends—”
“It’s not just that.” Her voice was steadier than she felt. “You’ve been rude from day one. You called me a ‘chubby amateur.’ And then you’ve been dismissive of my work. I find you savings that you ignore because of some relationship with Reed Medical or even Alisa Reed.”
Her voice cracked on “chubby” — not from hurt, but from anger. She worried suddenly that her emotions might betray her. She steeled herself.
Will looked completely caught off guard. “You know about Alisa and me?”
Lizzie nodded, “Carolina made it very clear.”
He ran a hand through his hair, flustered. “But… there is no Alisa and me. That’s the thing! It’s just business, and as you’ve uncovered, not even good business!”
“And George?—you fired him for nothing. Because he challenged you? That arrogance he told me about? I’ve felt it too.
You haven’t shown me any type of appreciation or even acknowledged much of my work.
It’s fine, I don’t need your constant reinforcement or anything, but nothing in your behavior towards me has softened my perception of you.
I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think I’d ever go out with you, but it wasn’t intentional.
” Lizzie knew from experience that the best way to turn someone down was directly, with no space for interpretation or hope.
Still, seeing Will’s shocked face, she wondered if she’d said too much.
Will’s face went white. “That’s what you think of me? If I could just…”
Charles bounded over. “Raffle time! DJ’s holding the music!”
“I didn’t enter the raffle,” Lizzie said, already stepping back. “I’m going.”
“Wait—” Will reached, but she was gone.
* * *
From the Desk of William Pemberley
Pemberley HQ — Office, 11:12 p.m.
She said no.
I was so focused on confessing that I never prepared for rejection.
She overheard me that first day. She was misconstruing everything.
George lied, of course.
NDA be damned.
She deserves the truth.
* * *
Saturday morning, Lizzie woke still reeling. Had she been too harsh? No. Clarity was kinder than false hope.
She felt almost proud of herself for rejecting him. Most women would’ve said yes just because he’s rich and gorgeous. I stood by my principles.
She brewed a colada, opened her laptop to prep for the week, and froze.
Subject: PLEASE READ — Sensitive Information
From: WPemberley@
Lizzie,
Please don’t delete this. This is not an attempt to change your mind — I respect your decision completely and would prefer to forget the entire thing ever happened.
I’m only writing to clear up a few things you believe about me.
Some of what follows is under NDA and could cause serious problems if it got out, so I’m trusting you with it.
First, I was unaware you overheard my comments before we met. Had I known, I would have apologized immediately. I’m not always at ease with new people, and I was inexcusably rude.
About George Wick:
It’s true we grew up together in the company. His father and mine were close; George spent years at our house. My father adored him and gave him a coveted marketing role straight out of college. George felt he deserved an executive-level position. He was unhappy from day one.
Complaints started immediately — disruptive, rude, entitled. Carolina pushed to fire him. I refused, out of loyalty to my father’s wishes.
Then, female employees reported harassment — unwanted advances, cornering them. Serious. I was drafting termination papers when the final incident happened.
My sister Georgiana was interning that summer. She was eighteen. George trapped her in the copy room and refused to let her leave without a kiss. He called it “a joke.” I didn’t find it funny. I hit him. Once. Hard.
He could have sued for assault — something he made sure to remind me of often. Georgiana felt guilty, as if it were her fault. It wasn’t. It was his.
Carolina drafted an ironclad NDA. He walked away with a substantial payout and a promise to stay away from my family.
I’ve always suspected the money was his endgame.
When you saw him here, he was trying to squeeze more.
Thankfully, the contract is foolproof. He won’t get another cent out of me, and another demand will lead us to a restraining order as well. But that’s neither here nor there.
I don’t know exactly what he told you, but this is the truth. Charles and Carolina can confirm. Confronting George directly would tip him off that I violated the NDA — he’d exploit it in a heartbeat.
The decisions I’ve made in terms of your work have been made with the company’s interest at heart. I appreciate all that you are doing for us, but don’t presume that because of that, you’re privy to how I handle information. I’ll decide when to make changes and when not to.
As for my arrogance, you’re not wrong. I lack Charles’s ease. It’s a failing I’m working on.
I can’t bear someone I admire as much as I admire you thinking so little of me.
Blame my arrogance.
Respectfully,
Will
Lizzie read it twice.
Then a third time.
The colada went cold beside her.
Everything she thought she knew cracked wide open.