Chapter 48 The True North
THE TRUE NORTH
EMMA
My boots hit the polished floor with purpose.
I weave through the maze of desks, past the same people who whispered about me behind their monitors. The ones who swallowed every rumor Miles fed them instead of questioning a single word. Not one makes eye contact.
The elevator ride up to Thomas Hawthorne's office feels both too fast and too slow. I fidget with my bag's zipper until I'm in front of his open door. I knock twice.
“Emma.” He gestures to the chair across from his desk. “What can I do for you?”
I smooth my skirt, sit without leaning against the back of the chair.
“I'm here to tender my resignation.”
His eyebrows lift. “I see. May I ask why?”
“The situation with Miles exposed serious issues in this company's culture. The way it was handled made it clear that trust and accountability aren't priorities here.” I hold his gaze. “I can't be part of that.”
Thomas doesn't react right away. He watches me, the silence stretching long enough to make lesser people squirm.
I'm not one of them. Not anymore.
“I had no idea you felt this way,” he says finally. “Can you elaborate?”
“Acting on Miles's accusations without a proper investigation. Allowing gossip to spread unchecked, damaging reputations without evidence.” I sit back, fingers folded in my lap. “That's a symptom of a bigger problem. One that extends well beyond me.”
He opens his mouth.
“Frankly? I deserve better. Everyone in this office does.”
He grimaces. “You've given me a lot to think about.”
“Good.”
“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
“No. My decision is final.” I don't soften it. “I've documented everything and submitted detailed feedback through the exit process. I'd encourage you to read it carefully. Not for my sake, but for the people still here.”
He exhales, presses his lips together.
“I respect that. For what it's worth, the ELK campaign was some of the best work this firm has ever produced. That was you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity you gave me when I needed it.”
“I hope our paths cross again under better circumstances.”
We shake hands. Professional. Final.
The hallway back to my desk feels longer than usual. I pull the box I brought from under my desk and start packing. The jade succulent Zoe gave me. My good pens. The framed postcard of a Monet water lily I’d pinned above my monitor because this office needed something alive in it.
“Well, well.”
Miles. Arms crossed. Smirking. He looks at the box, then at me, and his whole face lights up with the kind of satisfaction that makes my skin crawl.
“Couldn't hack it?” He tilts his head, faking sympathy. “Don't feel bad. Not everyone's built for this level.”
I tape the box shut, taking my time.
Then I look up.
“I resigned, Miles. Voluntarily. Happily. With a very thorough exit interview that Hawthorne has committed to reviewing personally.” I pause just long enough to watch the smirk falter. “You might want to check your email this week. HR tends to follow up on these things.”
The color drains from his face first. Then floods back too fast. His mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
I tuck the box under my arm and step past him. Close enough that he has to move or be bumped.
He moves.
“Good luck,” I say over my shoulder without looking back.
Petty? Maybe.
Good for the soul? Absolutely.
Kai is already at Luca's when I arrive. Corner booth, boot propped on the bench beside him, sparkling water on the table. He's frowning at his phone.
He looks up. The frown dissolves.
“Hey.” He reaches for me as I slide into the booth, hand finding mine before I'm fully seated. “How'd it go?”
I take a deep breath. “I did it. I finally resigned.”
His thumb stills against my knuckle. “Yeah?”
“Told Hawthorne the culture was toxic. That everyone in that office deserves better. That I documented everything in my exit interview and he should read it carefully.” My words tumble out in a rush. I'm buzzing with pent-up energy.
“What did he say?”
“That he respected my decision. That ELK was the best work the firm has produced.” I shrug. “He wasn't wrong.”
“That's true.” He smiles.
“Oh, and Miles assumed I got fired.”
“Of course he did. Did you set him straight?”
“I did. He’s probably worried about an upcoming HR meeting.” I pick up the menu. “He even moved out of my way. Physically stepped aside when I was leaving.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. The way I adore. “That's my girl.”
I lean forward, kiss him quickly.
“What was that for?”
“You look delicious.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. Damn if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
The waiter comes. We order too much food because I skipped breakfast. The pasta is good. The bread is better. He steals from my plate and I let him because his hand keeps finding my knee under the table.
“I signed up for Celeste's painting classes,” I say between bites. “Thursday evenings.”
His fork stops middair. “You did?”
“Don't make it a thing.”
“It's absolutely a thing.” He sets the fork down. “Let me pay for it. I wanted that to be my gift, but I was waiting for you to decide.”
“You've given me enough.”
“I'm not giving you things, Emma. I'm sharing my life with you. There's a difference.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?” He squeezes my hand.
A lump forms in my throat. “I accept your gift. Thank you.”
He lifts my hand, presses a soft kiss to my knuckles, and I smile wide. We finish lunch. Just an ordinary Tuesday. I want many more with him.
“Ready to go home?” he asks, grinning as he picks up extra dessert to take away.
“If that lemon meringue is coming with us.”
The penthouse is quiet when we get home. Late afternoon light through the windows turns everything warm. I drop the box on the coffee table.
Kai catches my hand before I can move past him, pulls me back gently until I'm facing him.
“What?” I ask.
He looks at me with that expression he gets sometimes. The one where his whole face goes still and focused, like I'm the only thing in the room worth seeing. Addicting.
He kisses me. Slowly at first. His hand slides to the back of my neck, tilting my head, and I melt into him the way I always do. My fingers curl into the front of his shirt.
“Today was a good day,” he murmurs against my lips.
“It's not over yet.”
He walks me backward down the hallway. Slow, careful with the boot. Mouth never leaving mine. We bump into the doorframe and I laugh against his teeth. He swallows the sound.
The bedroom. Golden light pooling across the sheets. His hands pulling my dress up, a question in his fingers. I lift my arms.
He pulls his shirt over his head and I reach for him the way I always do. Palms flat against his chest, fingers spreading over warm skin and hard muscle. Then I feel something.
Something smooth and unfamiliar. A patch of film covering skin I know by heart.
I pull back. Look up.
Through the transparent bandage, fresh ink. Right at the northern point of the compass where the longest line reaches toward his collarbone.
Emma.
I open my mouth. Close it again. Words won’t come.
“Baby? You okay?”
I trace the letters with my fingertip. The skin is warm, slightly swollen around the fresh ink. His heart beats hard underneath. “When did you do this?”
“Yesterday evening, when you were at Zoe's.”
“Kai… this is beautiful. I don't know what to say.”
He covers my hand with his, pressing my palm flat against the tattoo. Against my name. Against his heartbeat.
“You're my true north, Emma.” His voice is low, rough. “You have been since the night we met. I spent the whole drive home trying to figure out how to see you again.”
I can't speak. My vision blurs. I blink and the tears come, hot and fast down my cheeks. He brushes them away with his thumbs.
“You put my name on your body,” I whisper.
“I wanted you where I could feel you. Always.”
I kiss him. Hard. His hands grip my waist and mine slide into his hair. I push him back toward the bed. He goes willingly. I climb over him and he groans, raises his hips, grinds against me.
“Emma.” My name again, rough against my throat.
I answer with my hands. With my mouth. With every part of me that spent months learning how to trust this man and today finally stopped keeping score.
The light shifts from gold to amber. The city hums somewhere far below us.
I press my lips to the fresh ink on his chest. He shivers.
I am home.