by Olivia Hayle
She reaches out and puts a cool hand on mine. To both of our surprise, I grip it tight. We sit there for a long while, the two of us, both of us the picture of hard-working, professional office women, with blow-dried hair and fitted blazers. There’s no competitive atmosphere in the break room at the moment.
“It happens,” she says softly, her ice-blonde hair an elegant sweep along her neck. “I don’t know you very well. I won’t pretend to. But you were excellent in here. For what it’s worth, I really enjoyed working with you, and I’d be happy to work with you again—as an architect.”
“I enjoyed working with you too.”
She pats my hand gently and lets me go. “Now, how are you going to get him back?”
“Kyle?”
“Yes, and Marchand. I like the man well enough, but he should not have gotten involved with his assistant. You would’ve thought the man had learned that lesson by now.”
“What?”
Her eyes soften. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… but you should know now. His previous assistant was nice. Sara. A little shy, from out of town. Good at her job, by all accounts. But she got far too involved. I don’t know what happened between them, but she was very clearly in love with the man. In the end, she quit.”
Something like ice settles in my stomach. I had asked why my perfect predecessor had been fired, but every time I’d gotten non-answers.
My application letter, there on the table in front of us, glares at me with its awfulness. He told me I impressed him in the interview. But how could I know it wasn’t because of my looks?
“Can I sue Kyle? For slander?”
Terri cocks her head. “Maybe. You’d have to talk to a lawyer about that.”
“My application letter. How did he get it? Did Melissa give it to him?”
“I know he has a background in computer engineering, before switching to architecture. If he wanted to access the file… maybe he could. But it seems unlikely.”
I gather up all the papers on the table. As she watches, I tear down the ones stuck to the fridge, to the cabinets, and toss them all in the bin.
“Thanks for telling me.”
She nods. “You would do the same for me.”
And she’s right. I would. No one should have to go through this, even if it’s their own mistakes being thrown at them. My path forward suddenly seems crystal clear.
“What are you going to do?”
I look down at the one paper I spared, my proof copy. “The only thing I can,” I say. “Damage control.”
Henry’s eyes soften when I enter his office, over an hour early for our Monday meeting. “Hey.” But then my expression registers. “Faye?”
I make sure to shut the door behind me and thank whoever designed this building that his office is an entire corridor away from the open landscape, currently filled to the brim with judgement.
I put the paper down in front of him. Henry grows still as he looks it over, an angry flush creeping up his neck. “So that’s why Kyle resigned this morning.”
“That’s what Terri thinks.”
“The fucking asshole. I should have fired him a long time ago.” The paper crumples in his hand, knuckles white. “I’m assuming everyone has seen this.”
“Yes.”
He looks up at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Faye.”
No. No, no, no. I can’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the apology, the acknowledgment that we did something wrong. I pace in front of his desk. “I’m ruined. Again.”
“Not at all. Faye, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Will anyone believe that? Think about the way it looks to everyone else! It looks like you pulled Kyle from the project for my benefit, and that I’ve been sleeping my way to the top!”
Henry is standing now, reaching out to me, but I don’t want to be touched. I throw my hands up. “This job was a godsend, and I mess it up not two months in.”
“You haven’t.”
“Really? Isn’t everything Kyle said true?”
Henry pauses, eyes hardening. “Nothing Kyle is insinuating is true.”
“Really?”
“No. I didn’t give you the job because I was interested in you. I didn’t pull Kyle from the project for you. And I never wanted our personal relationship to affect our professional one. You have to believe me, Faye.”
I look at him, my insides at war, fear and hope and humiliation taking up arms. I said I’d never regret what we did, but right now, I can’t think of anything beyond the destruction it’s wrought. “I really want to believe that.”
His mouth hardens. “I’ll fix this. I don’t want you to worry.”
“There is no fixing it. You don’t think word will spread? My career is over, and it’s my own fault.” I put my head in my hands and fight the urge to cry for the second time of the day. I need to get my head in the game, to figure out a game plan, but I can’t stop feeling nauseous with embarrassment. “This should never have happened. How could I be so stupid?”
I’d applied to all the big firms in New York months ago, after Elliot Ferris. They hadn’t wanted to touch me with a ten-foot pole, and then I’d only lacked a reference letter and been tainted by Elliot’s tentacle-like influence. This time, I look like a woman who uses her body to get ahead career-wise. I’ll never be hired again.
A warm hand lands on my shoulder, like he’s afraid I’ll shake him off. I don’t.
“It’s not all over,” he says, and his voice is vibrating with emotion. If I’m despairing, Henry is furious. It rolls off him in waves. “It might feel that way now, but it’s not. And Kyle won’t get away with this. Not in a million years.”
“Can I sue for slander?”
“Potentially. I’ll look into it.”
Right, I thought. Henry’s name is being dragged through the mud as well. Both of us come out of this looking bad, and the unnamed thing between us looks crude in the harsh light of day. I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. His hand drops as I stand, smoothing down the wrinkles in my skirt.
"Why did your previous assistant quit?”
“Why do you ask?”
Something inside me sinks at the question, at the wariness in his eyes. “Someone just told me that she was in love with you. Did the same thing happen earlier?”
He rubs his neck. “No, Faye, it wasn’t similar at all.”
“Right.” I take a step back, unable to handle this discussion any longer, unwilling to hear whatever damning thing he’ll say next. My chest feels painfully tight. “Well, we didn’t exactly come out of this looking good, did we?”
“We will,” he says, with far more conviction than I feel. He’s already back at his desk, shoulders wide with tension and purpose, picking up his phone. “I’ll make this disappear. Don’t worry, Faye.”
I take a few steps toward the door and watch him in action. Thick hair and a strong jaw. In the corner, the model of his opera house is resting, covered by the sheet. I’d been naive enough to hope I could have it both—my dream job and the man of my dreams.
I should have known that was too good to be true.
28
Henry
I adopt my most friendly of tones. “Of course, and I wouldn’t ask you to. But I felt it was my obligation to let you know the reasons behind his dismissal.”
“And I appreciate that,” John Keys says, one of the architects on Elliot Ferris’s team. “We offered Kyle a contract just a few days ago. In light of your allegations, we might re-assess that.”
“Do whatever you feel prudent,” I say. “I just know that on my end, slander and misuse of personal files is a serious offense. I’d call Mr. Ferris directly, but I’m sure you’ve heard…” I trail off, hoping he’ll catch on. The feud between my dad and Elliot is well-known and has never been easy for me to navigate.
“Ah, yes. I understand. And slander is a big deal for us too. Thank you for calling, Henry.”
“Anytime, John.” In truth, I hadn’t spok
en much to him after architecture school—and even less after he started working for Elliot.
John pauses delicately on the line. “Now that I have you on… How about golf one weekend? It’s been a long time since we played.”
I resist the urge to snort. We hadn’t played together since we were seniors. “Absolutely,” I say. “Shoot me an email and we’ll set up a time.”
I stare at my phone for a long time after we hang up. So Kyle had gotten a job at Elliot Ferris’s firm, the snake, which was why he felt confident enough to pull this kind of stunt. I have little doubt he was offered the contract on Elliot’s instructions, specifically to score a point against us. But if my call can turn even one of the architects at Kyle’s new job against him, it’ll be worth it.
Kyle Renner, snake extraordinaire, would never get a recommendation from us—instead, he would get a warning, a call to every future employer. There was no cocktail party I’d go to now where I wouldn’t mention his name. Asshole.
I rub my temples against a headache, and the image of Faye in my office reappears, as she has so often over the past couple of hours. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake, she had said.
Fuck. This weekend had been one of the best of my life, and everything was—for once—perfectly on track. And then this happens. What had we said, just yesterday? That we wouldn’t let work get in the way? We might as well have jinxed it.
I force my hand to relax from its death grip on my armrest. One part of me wants to find Kyle Renner—I have his home address at my fingertips—and kick him senseless for hurting Faye like this. Another part of me wants to kick myself instead, for moving too fast. She’d promised she wouldn’t have any regrets, but that was exactly what had been on her face this morning.
You have to believe me.
And her response, broken and hurtful. I really want to.
We’d barely spoken since then, her at her desk and me at mine. Every feet of distance between us felt heavy.
I send an email to Melissa in recruiting and ask her to come by my office this afternoon. The question of how Faye’s application got into Kyle’s hands is still unanswered. I want to order her to my office right away—I want to hold people accountable for this—but the anticipation will make it worse for her.
Faye’s voice comes through the intercom. “Rykers is here for you.”
I want to groan. The last thing I can stand at the moment is a dressing down from my senior partner. “Send her in.”
Rykers saunters in with a wry smile, obviously aware of the situation. “I know,” I say preemptively. “It doesn’t look good.”
She sinks into the chair in front of me. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Kyle was a snake from the start.”
“He was. I think that’s why we liked him, because he would do anything to get a project done.” She sighs, running a polished nail along her chin. “But if these are his true colors, then good riddance to him.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“I won’t berate you, but we do have to talk about… it.” Her smile turns sardonic. “I’ve known you for a long time, Henry. I don’t believe this is simply a lustful slip.”
I release a breath. “It’s not. It’s poor timing, and it’s been handled poorly at that, but it’s not particularly scandalous at all.”
“You two like each other, then.”
I give a curt nod, even though Faye’s feelings are a mystery to me. All I have are hopes.
“She’s smart. I saw her pitch with Terri, you know. Quick on her feet.”
“She’s a brilliant architect.”
Rykers leans back, a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you know what, Henry? I think it might be time for us to split up the firm.”
Fuck. This? At the same time?
I put my hands at my temples. “I understand that this could tarnish our reputation with clients and other firms, if it’s circulated widely. But I already have a slander suit filed, and—”
“Oh, Henry, no. Men have been having improper relations with their assistants since women joined the workforce. It’s not palatable, but it happens. And if you two are actually serious, I doubt this will have any negative repercussions for business.”
I’m floored. “Then why?”
“Don’t you think it’s time? We’ve both benefitted from this. We’ve built a good name for the both of us. But I want to branch out, outside of New York. I want more creative control over the projects. We’ve reached a point where it makes sense.”
I regard her, the woman who fought side by side in the trenches with me to establish this firm ten years ago. Who was brilliant at convincing investors, using financial calculations I’d drawn up overnight.
We’ve had a good decade together. Both of us have independent client bases now. Her suggestion has terrible timing, but it makes sense, echoing some of my own thoughts. “You might be right.”
She smiles. “It will be amicable, just like this was when we started.”
“We’ll split the associates?”
“We’ll solve something with HR. And—here’s the part you might or might not enjoy—Faye Alvarez handed in her resignation an hour ago.”
“What?”
“Don’t be angry. It’s the only reasonable thing for her to do, in this position. But I’ve offered her a job in my own firm after the split.” Her smile is triumphant. “See? Isn’t splitting the firm a good idea?”
My hand stills. “As an architect, I hope.”
“Absolutely. I know talent when I see it.”
My mouth sours at the implication. “I know you’re not doing it for me, but is it wrong that I want to say thank you?”
“Yes,” she says immediately, standing. “Because it’s your loss, and my win. But as one friend to another, Henry… She’s been humiliated in the worst possible way for a woman in the workplace. Let her find her footing again and regain some dignity before you push.”
“Push?”
She shakes her head at me. “You’re a pusher, Henry. So am I. But it’s not always a recipe for success in private relationships.”
And with that she leaves, and I’m left to ponder a world that looks radically different than it did just a few hours ago. Faye resigned. My heart feels squeezed in my chest, pushed too far by this entire ordeal. Why didn’t she talk to me about it?
When I open my office door, she’s right there, her beautiful features fixed in a mask of cold professionalism. I watch in disbelief as she packs up her belongings. A set of mints from the bottom drawer. A hairbrush from another.
She’s ignoring me, standing just a few feet away.
“You resigned?”
“It’s the only way.” Her voice is infuriatingly calm. “I can’t work with these people anymore.”
“Of course you can. It’ll pass.”
“No, it won’t. I can’t call them into a meeting or demand they adhere to their deadlines, all the while knowing what they’re thinking.”
I put a hand on her wrist. “Let’s solve this. I’ve already—”
“You’ve what? Handled Kyle? Made angry phone calls? I’ve heard, and that’s good. But it won’t fix my reputation.”
I want to shake her, shake us both, into some form of understanding. But Faye’s face is the picture of distance as she shakes off my hand. “I have to do this.”
“Did Rykers speak to you?”
“Yes. She offered me a job.” Faye pauses, swallowing miserably. “It’s generous. It’s what I want. I said yes on the spot.”
She looks at me as if she’s daring me to protest. “I heard. That’s great, Faye. Truly.”
“Yes. Yes, it is. It’s a chance to make something of myself out of all of this. A chance I don’t really feel like I deserve.”
“You do. Fucking hell, Faye, you’re so talented. The opera house is twice the building it was before you joined.”
It must have been the wrong thing to say, because she shuts her bag with a snap. “I’ve written an i
nstruction sheet for my replacement and notified recruitment that we need to put up another ad for your personal assistant.”
“Faye…”
She pauses and looks up at me, her eyes closed off in a heartbreaking way. I want to tell her that it’s all going to blow over. That we’re still us, that I’m sorry. But all of it feels too little and too late. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “News of this won’t spread.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can. This doesn’t change anything between us, Faye.”
Her hand flits over mine, fingers soft and warm against my skin. I want to pull her near, to remind her of the closeness we’d shared this weekend. Offer reassurance and be reassured in kind. But her eyes shutter, and she releases my hand.
“It does,” she whispers.
I watch as she walks away, cursing myself for not being better with words, for not knowing what to say, for a situation that’s somehow spun wildly out of my control. Yesterday morning, I had been happier than I’d been in years. Fate has a funny way of giving you a taste of something wonderful, only to wrench it away immediately.
Faye doesn’t answer my calls. One text comes in, two days after her resignation, asking for space. Space. Like we’ve had an argument, like we’re over.
So I give her space.
I fire Melissa from recruiting, who apparently gave Kyle the file after she read it herself. When she confessed to me, she admitted that she found it funny, and worth sharing, but hadn’t ever imagined that he’d use it for that. As if that was an excuse for violating confidentiality.
My lawyers call daily with updates on the slander suit. Apparently, Kyle had gotten a hold of the picture of Faye and me through someone’s public Facebook account, and it was considered fair game, but the application letter and the implication he made weren’t.
“We might not be able to get him on all these points in court,” my lawyer told me. “But we can make it painful for him to fight the allegations.”
