Chapter 31 JACE
JACE
Dawson is calling.
After ducking his last three calls, I can’t ignore this one.
I pick up.
His voice comes through the speaker, fuzzy with distance.
“Carrington.”
“Brother.”
“Thought you fell off the planet.”
“Been crazy here.”
A pause.
“Vaughn.”
“Quiet.”
“Quiet how?”
“We’re watching. He’s not getting near her.”
“Good.”
Dawson exhales through the phone.
“And Wren? How is she, really?”
I close my eyes for a second. I almost say it.
Daws, I need to tell you something.
But I swallow the words.
“She’s good, Daws.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good to hear. You see her much?”
“Often enough.”
“I’m glad she’s got you around.”
My grip tightens on the phone.
“Daw—”
“I mean it, Jace. Thank you. For all of it.”
The line goes quiet for a second.
“Anything else, brother?”
Another opening.
“No. That’s it.”
“All right. Talk soon, Carrington.”
The line clicks dead.
The office noise fades around me. Dawson is eight thousand miles away and the thing I didn’t tell him is sitting in my chest like a stone.
I should have said it.
* * *
I come out of the conference room with Ryker keeping pace beside me.
“The four o’clock’s going to push back on the second team. You ready for him.”
“I’m ready for him.”
“Want me in the room?”
“I’ve got it.”
He waits a step.
“You gonna tell him?”
I know exactly who he means.
“Not today.”
Ryker nods once.
“He’s not going to take it well.”
I cut him a look.
“Good talk.”
He grins and peels off down the corridor.
Nora steps in on my other side with her tablet up. Bryant from operations is on her heels, asking about the four o’clock briefing. Liam Hayes from finance is two steps behind me with the Singapore numbers I have not had time to look at.
“Four o’clock got moved to three. They want you in the room.”
“Move it.”
“Bryant needs the briefing pages before then.”
“On my desk. Now.”
“The Singapore call got pushed to six your time.”
“Got it.”
“And Helena Pierce called twice this morning. New client referral.”
“Tell her I’ll get to her this afternoon.”
I keep walking.
The hallway outside my office is already crowded. Two senior analysts hovering near the doors. An assistant from the eighth-floor team holding a folder she clearly thinks is urgent.
I get to my office. Don’t stop at the threshold. Walk through, around the desk, start pulling my suit jacket off because the conference room hit eighty degrees in the last hour and I’m done with it.
“Mr. Carrington—”
“Inside. All of you.”
They come inside.
I drop the jacket on the back of my chair and start rolling my sleeves to the elbow.
“Nora. The Bryant page.”
“Coming.”
“Liam. The Singapore numbers.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And whoever has the eighth-floor folder, you have ninety seconds before I send you back down.”
The assistant holding the folder turns red. Nora steps in front of her smoothly and takes it out of her hand.
I sit down at the desk and hold out my hand for the Bryant file.
I skim the first page.
The door opens before I make it halfway through.
I look up.
Wren is in the doorway in a soft blue sundress, her hair loose over one shoulder, a deli bag in her hand. Her cheeks are pink from the heat of the city in July.
She freezes.
Three analysts, two assistants, Nora, and me—all of us looking at her.
“Oh—sorry. I’ll come back.”
I set the page down. Look at her.
“Don’t move.”
Then to the room.
“Out.”
The room moves. Nora knows that out without me telling her twice.
The analysts gather their files in fifteen seconds.
Liam backs out with a hand up. The eighth-floor assistant goes pink again.
Nora ushers them all out, gives me a look over the top of her glasses I will pay for later, and pulls the door shut behind her.
Wren has not moved.
I push back from the desk and cross to her. Take the deli bag out of her hand and set it on the side table by the door. Put my hands on her hips and walk her two steps back until her shoulders are against the door.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
I dip my mouth to the side of her jaw.
“Perfect timing, Ashford.”
Her hands slide up under my arms and down my back.
She laughs softly against my shoulder. “You were just—”
“What?”
“You were bossing them around.”
“Yes.”
Her hands slide up the front of my chest. She is not looking at my face. She is looking at the tie. She straightens the knot. Smooths the ends down.
Then her eyes come up to mine.
“I might need to ruin this tie later.”
She leans up and kisses me.
I make a sound against her mouth— mm —and pull her in by the hips.
“Wren.”
“Mm.”
“I have ten minutes.”
“Ten?”
“Ten.”
She runs her thumb along my jaw and presses it gently against my mouth.
“Hold that thought.”
She gives me one last look before stepping back toward the deli bag on the side table.
“I brought you lunch.”
“Lunch isn’t the problem.”
“You have ten minutes.”
“Then we better eat fast.”
She smiles.
“Tonight, Carrington.”
That does not help.
She kicks off her sandals and curls up on my couch, already unwrapping her sandwich.
I watch her for a second.
Until Daws is home, she’s mine and the rest of the world is on the other side of a wall I am holding up.
I cross to the couch and sit down beside her. She hands me a sandwich on its wax paper and tucks her bare feet under her.
“You okay?”
I take a second.
She’s reading me. She can already tell when I’m holding something back.
“Long morning. I’m good now.”
She studies me.
Then she leans her shoulder into mine and unwraps her own sandwich.
“Okay.”
She doesn’t push.
I have to tell Dawson. Man to man. That I’m in love with his sister.