Chapter 1
Noah
Now
Two Years Later . . .
I make this look easy.
A job offer on the table two months before graduation.
A sweet package with a six-figure salary and stacked bonuses based on performance.
A three-bedroom apartment with a view in Midtown Manhattan.
Yep. At twenty-five, I’m living the dream.
I was called the golden child my whole life. I don’t see the lie.
Straightening my tie, I step off the elevator.
“You’re late.” That’s not the greeting I expected, but it’s the one I get the moment I enter the lobby.
Bancroft & Lowe, a pillar—literally—in the New York City skyline, occupies the entire forty-sixth floor.
The gold lettering greeting guests and employees alike gleams under the spray of light from the recessed lighting.
It’s a not-so-subtle reminder of their golden reputation and, for me, not to fuck up this opportunity.
I chose my best suit—tailor-made, silk tie, Italian leather shoes. I felt like a million bucks until my plan got punctured by the accusation. Checking my watch, I’m five minutes early.
So the woman impatiently tapping her heel as if I’m keeping her from something more important doesn’t sit well with me.
Jet-black hair with a purple streak matches the purple collar of her fitted black dress.
Pushing boundaries within the confines of corporate America? I’ll give her props for individuality.
A smile eases from her tightened lips despite the stern welcoming, and after tugging the waistband of her skirt, taking in a few deep breaths before releasing, she says, “We should start walking.” She grabs the door beside her desk and pulls it open.
“Welcome to Bancroft & Lowe.” Holding her hands out like a game show presenter, she has a quick pace despite the rushed tour of the facilities.
“The top marketing firm in the city, winning three . . .” Her words fade as I realize I’ve really made it.
I accomplished my career goals on the first day of work. I got the job that my magna cum laude grad school degree earned me. I didn’t nail an interview because I never had one. I was recruited to the big leagues, skipping the minors altogether.
The higher pitch of her tone squeaks back into my head. “And that’s how we ended up baking bread in the oven on the roof.”
How long was I gone? “Baking bread?”
She laughs. “I knew you weren’t listening. It’s all in the handbook, but I’m sure you’ve already studied everything you need to know about the company, considering you’re the first person they’ve hired straight out of college. They usually only hire seasoned pros into the marketing positions.”
“Graduate school,” I correct, kindly, of course. “And technically, Olivia Bancroft was the first person the company hired straight from university.”
“I knew you’d know the basics, but does the boss’s daughter really count?
” She snaps her mouth closed. “Talking about the Ice Queen will land me in trouble. Keep that comment between us. Okay? I’m not looking to get fired, so I shouldn’t have said anything.
Just consider it a warning.” This woman doesn’t appear much older than me, but she’s far more comfortable than I’d be gossiping about the boss’s daughter to a total stranger.
This does make me curious about how the Ice Queen got her name, but I sense some bad blood with this woman, so I’m not asking questions. “You’re safe with me.”
She grins, and it’s not the first time I’ve seen a flash like that in a woman’s eyes, the dilation of their pupils as they take in the sight of me. Women flirt with me all the time. My mom and sister call it the “Noah Effect.”
An extra button has already popped open since my arrival, and she suddenly appears to have all the time in the world for me. I have no intention of having sex with anyone at the office. Those kinds of entanglements can ruin a career, and I’m just launching mine.
She stops just outside a conference room with a plaque engraved with CR 1. “The meeting has already started, Mr. Westcott.” She briefly glances back. “As I said, you’re late. Make a quick apology and then agree with whatever they’re saying. That’s how I get by, and it works every time.”
I could let the slight regarding tardiness go, but since she’s said it twice, I feel the need to defend myself. “I was told nine o’clock.”
“I know,” she replies, tapping her watch. Giving me half her attention, she adds, “They like to test the new hires.”
“Great.” I sigh under my breath. I’ve already blown it.
“Nine oh three.” I’m hit with a devious glint in her eyes. “Good luck.”
A wall obscures the contents of the room, so I ask, “Why do I need luck?”
“With that attitude, you’re going to need all the luck you can get.
This isn’t the small pond of fishies you’re used to swimming with at Beacon University.
” A click of her tongue escorts her eyebrow shooting up.
“This is the ocean. You’re swimming with sharks now.
” She opens the door without so much as a warning, and announces, “Noah Westcott.” With a quick whip of her head toward the door, she adds, “Start swimming.”
As if she’s been glued to the wood of the door, I dip my head in to see a room full of eyes staring at me and not a smile in the crowd. Shit.
The sharks are ready to eat.
I force my feet forward, throwing my hand up to the side of me like I’m the new guy, basically like an idiot, and wave. “Hello.”
I’m met with silence.
She’s right. This is not the same pond I’m used to ruling.
“Mr. Westcott.” A voice pulls my eyes to the far side of the room. Lawrence Bancroft, graying around the temples and sporting less hair than his online photos, stands with a friendly grin. “Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, I’m happy—” I reply to the only familiar face I spy in the room after a quick scan until my eyes land on her.
My heart lurches to a stop and drops to the pit of my stomach. My hands sweat, and despite my usual knack of keeping my cool around women, my breath chokes in my chest. When my throat dries from the sight of her, only one word slips out. “Liv.”
“Ah! You know my daughter, Olivia?”
Olivia.
Olivia.
Liv . . .
Liv is Olivia Bancroft.
Fuck.
His words spin around my head not making sense as I watch her chest fill with a jagged breath as her hands fist the edge of her jacket.
She squeezes her eyelids closed, but then a burst of energy shoots through, and she bolts upright .
. . next to her father. “Why don’t we let everyone get back to work?
” Her eyes are trained on her father as if she’s afraid to look away.
Daughter. Father . . . Bancroft.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He turns back to the filled room and claps his hands. “Remember. Give them hell out there. Now get to work.”
Not exactly the warm and fuzzy, go get ’em team speech, but I guess everyone has their own form of motivation.
I can’t dwell on what makes him tick. I just need a minute to process this situation, to process that I’m staring at a woman who I’ve not only seen naked but also fucked like there was no tomorrow.
There wasn’t supposed to be. We made an agreement that night, and even when I slipped a little possibility into the equation, she stuck to the deal.
Fuck that.
I wasted not just minutes but hours and days over the past couple of years thinking about what I could have done differently to make her stay. Or why she snuck out in the first place.
I was a fool to believe that night was special.
Fuck special just like she fucked me over.
I gather my wits about me, remembering how that one encounter fucked with my brain chemistry.
I traveled through the stages of grief in record speed until I landed in anger.
That stage served me well for a while. Fucking became a mission.
I fucked with abandon. It didn’t matter. Not at that time.
I should probably apologize to a few of the girls I dated back then, but they were calculated in my downfall since they were having their own needs met.
Yeah, there were no complaints. I was used in other ways.
Being on the arm of a Westcott was enough in our small town of Beacon to gain recognition. And they reveled in that attention.
Maybe I’m still lingering in that stage because I’m fucking furious right now. Unfortunately, I’m a new hire standing in front of his boss. He repeats, “So you already know Olivia?”
I compose myself, straightening my jacket and turning to her. Staring right into those eyes of hers, I reply. “No, I don’t know her at all.”
“You called her Liv, so I assumed—”
Returning my attention to him, I grin my award winner. “Only from the company website. I wanted to learn everything I could about the company smart enough to hire me.”
He chuckles. “I like you already, Westcott.” With his hand on her back, he says, “This is the guy I was telling you about. Whip smart, a real coup in acquisitions for Bancroft & Lowe.”
Liv . . . Olivia clears her throat and raises her chin as soon as her hand shoots out.
“It’s . . .” She steals a quick breath but then her shoulders sag on the exhale as if she’s lost the energy for this charade.
Tell me about it . . . She finally continues.
“I’m not sure where to start.” She glances at her father first before turning to me, and adding, “My father is happy to have you joining the company.”
Nice workaround.
And I solidly catch the drift regarding her feelings of seeing me again.
Same boat, sweetheart.
The difference is, I’m here to shine. Seeing her again won’t break my stride straight to the top. “I appreciate that, Olivia.”
I clasp her hand in mine. The electricity conjured the night we met shoots straight through me, along with memories better left out of the office.
That night with her was nothing more than another one-night stand.
I’d be better off if I remember that instead.
I drop her hand and shove mine into my pocket.