Chapter 46 Jules
JULES
The elevator ride down to the thirty-ninth floor feels like the slow-motion part of a roller coaster before the drop.
Linc and I stand in stunned silence, both staring at the digital floor numbers as if they’re a code that might reveal an explanation about what just transpired in his father’s office.
When the doors finally open, we walk into the workspace like two people who’ve just witnessed a magic trick and can’t figure out how the rabbit disappeared.
“Did that really happen?” I ask, sinking into my desk chair.
Linc loosens his tie and shakes his head. “Maxine Drecken working with Aiken the Demo King.”
“He’s her son!”
Linc lets out a long exhale. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“Not by a long shot.”
“I knew she was ambitious, but this …”
“Is wildly twisted?” I ask, mind reeling.
He nods.
“Insurance fraud on a massive scale?” I add as we exit the elevator one floor down and pause in the reception area.
Linc rubs his hand on his jaw, his stubble like sandpaper.
“That for a second there she was going to try to pin it all on us?”
“Key word being ‘try.’” He perches on the edge of my desk and draws me near him.
My heart turns into a little hummingbird at Linc’s proximity.
“So what next?” I ask.
He claps his hands together. “Crossing my father is a career death sentence. Maxine is finished. He’ll take her for everything she’s worth and then some. Probably donate the money to an arts program or something equally philanthropic yet devastating to her ego.”
I blink at him. “So Frank Andresen is evil but good?”
“Basically.” He grins.
Like I’m sunning myself on the shore by the lake house, I bask in his smile, the first genuine one I’ve seen from him since we fled.
Linc gestures grandly. “Welcome to the Andresen family. Our philosophy: ruthless justice with a charitable tax write-off.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, probably inappropriate given the circumstances, but I can’t help it.
The absurdity of little old me—from clerical work on the thirty-third floor to executive assistant to exposing insurance fraud, Maxine’s dramatic ejection, and Frank somehow knowing about our investigation—hits me like a train coming late into the station.
“Also, it seems like your father knew about it all along.”
Linc nods and shakes his head as if he’s still working out how.
“We did it. We uncovered a corporate con like spies or whistleblowers.” I bounce a little at the glamor of it, knowing full well there will be an investigation, a lawsuit, and likely proper in-office drama if Jeannie and her “tea time” have anything to do with it.
“You did it,” Linc corrects, shifting closer to me. “Your instincts, your research skills, your brilliant insight into the Lincoln letters containing references to records related to the missing Fairfax piece, resulting in Maxine’s confession.”
My shoulders rise in a shy shrug. “All in a day’s work.”
His eyes sparkle with admiration and something deeper that makes my breath catch. “You were amazing in there.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself. And we certainly did this together. We make a good team.”
The corner of his lip twitches. “Yeah. We do.”
Before I can overthink it, he leans down and kisses me. It’s quick and sweet, a celebration of victory and relief all wrapped into one perfect package. When our lips part, his forehead rests against mine.
“What’s going to happen?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“An HR filing?” He laughs as we draw apart because this kind of activity between two Meridian employees is frowned upon. “Then again, I don’t technically get paid, so I suppose we could have one more …” He kisses me again.
This one is longer, slower, and I feel suddenly shy about what’s happening between us. This isn’t just attraction or adrenaline anymore—it’s something deeper that terrifies and thrills me in equal measure. I feel like I’m floating.
No, we’re falling, and I don’t think either of us knows how to stop.
Where we’ll land.
If we’ll be able to get up.
Then what?
Linc’s fingers trace along the curve of my jaw, down my neck, sending a warm shiver through me.
I clasp my hands behind his back, tethering myself to him, to this moment.
He responds by wrapping both arms around me, pulling me flush against him until there’s no space left between us.
His breath tickles my ear as he shifts, pressing a kiss just below it, and I can’t help the small laugh that escapes—half nervous, half delighted. He smiles against my skin, and I feel it more than see it.
The scratch of his stubble along my neck makes me wriggle in the best of ways, and he chuckles low in his throat, clearly pleased with my reaction. When his mouth finds mine again, he catches my bottom lip gently between his teeth—playful and teasing—before soothing it with a softer kiss.
I could really get used to this.
I want to. I want him.
When we draw apart this time, I ask, “But really, what’s next?” I mean this for every possible variation of the question. What’s going to happen between us? At the office? For the future?
“I have to travel for a few days—business.” He straightens, running a hand through his hair. “When I get back, we’ll celebrate.”
My pulse skitters, but before I can respond, his phone buzzes. He glances at it and sighs. “Speaking of travel, I need to pack. Flight leaves soon.”
Just like that, he’s gone, leaving me alone in our shared office with the lingering scent of his cologne and a thousand questions swirling through my mind.
Three days pass with a mere few texts from Linc. He’s out of the country and busy with business meetings. Likely, his father gave him more responsibility now that Drecken is out of the picture.
In Linc’s absence, I have a fierce chocolate craving.
I blame the grocery store for putting so much Halloween candy on display.
It’s entirely their fault that I buy several bags—candy bar miniatures, a fruity assortment, and more snack-size peanut butter cups than should be legal—covering all my bases.
Even though Halloween is still weeks away and I doubt trick-or-treaters will visit Linc’s condo, I tell myself it’s best to be prepared.
Still, doubt plays games in my mind, trying to answer questions that I should just ask the man myself.
What does Linc do when he’s not playing summer intern? Jet off to meetings in New York and DC? Go boating with his friend Bear-something? I can never remember his buddy’s name. Could he actually have a secret wife and family?
The truth is, even though we’ve shared so much, I hardly know him outside of the office.
My internal sky clouds over, hiding the sun as I organize files that don’t need organizing and respond to emails that can wait. I refresh my phone every few minutes, hoping for some sign that I’m more than a convenient summer distraction. An office fling.
It’s all a little pathetic.
Oly and I meet for brunch at our favorite place, even though I’m so far from being able to afford it—what without having massive debt and everything I own wiped out—that I order from the “sides” part of the menu.
“You look like someone stole your favorite Care Bear,” Oly says.
“More like someone set it on fire.”
She winces, recalling that all of my belongings went up in a spectacular blaze that was on the news. “Do you have a stomachache?”
I frown. “No. I just—”
“Are you on a detox or dieting?”
“What? Goodness no.”
Oly flags down the waitress. “Excuse me, could you please add to our order? We’d like the pancakes with chocolate chips and spiced whipped cream, pumpkin bread French toast, and one of those fancy crepes from the specials board.”
The server’s eyes widen at the same time I try to decline, but with a sharp look my way, my best friend isn’t having it.
“Once we get some food in you, you’ll tell me what’s really going on.” She talks to me about Nate’s new job, keeping up a running monologue of married life until the wagon train of plates arrives, barely fitting on our table.
I’ll admit, it all looks delicious, but my heart is back in DC when Linc ordered us room service breakfast.
Oly says the blessing over our meal and then says, “Don’t tell me you’re just tired. I know this has something to do with your handsome nemesis-turned-real-boyfriend.”
There is no use trying to hide anything from her. She’ll smoke me out. Also, the pancakes are phenomenal and instantly boost my blood sugar. I cannot help but say, “He’s been traveling. Business meetings.”
Oly raises an eyebrow. “Ah! So he is your boyfriend.”
I gasp and angle my fork at her. “You snuck that in there.”
She wears a wicked smile. “So you haven’t talked to him in a few days and are now wondering what’s going to happen?” As usual, she’s spot on.
“He’s busy.” The words sound hollow even to me.
She blinks a few times and says, “Juliana Lindley, you are obsessing. I can practically see the tornado coming out of your ears.”
I stuff a bite of the crepe in my mouth because there’s no sense in denying it.
She claps her hands together. “Which is why you need a distraction. Nate got four tickets to the Chicago Breeze hockey game tomorrow night from work. First game of the season. It’s against a team from Canada, I think.
You, me, Nate, and a cute guy at his office could be your plus-one …
unless you want to save the seat for Linc, you know, if he’s actually your boyfriend. ”
I mumble, “He’ll still be out of town.”
“Ah, so you would want him in the seat.”
But does he want me?
She takes a bite of the pumpkin bread French toast and, after emerging from ecstasy, says, “Come on, it’ll be fun. None of us know anything about hockey, but the fans are supposed to be wild—entertaining in their own right.”
I consider declining, but the alternative is another night alone in Linc’s penthouse, overthinking every moment of our relationship.
“Fine. But I’m warning you, I know absolutely nothing about this sport you call hockey.” I intentionally mispronounce it with a little French flair just to show my bestie that I’m not that far gone.
She laughs and I know I’ll be okay. I mean, I will. Right?
“Perfect. We can learn together.”
Though growing up with three brothers, this is more of an indulgence than anything, since I do know the rough gist of the game, emphasis on rough. But maybe a bit of rowdy skating with sticks is what I need right now.