by Stella
“Yay!” She clapped loud enough for me to hear it, and I knew if she were sitting down, she was bouncing on her butt, too. “You should consider changing your name.”
Apparently, she’d taken a page from Carl’s handbook of communication skills. “It’s Cacinicz.”
“I know your real name is Alexia Cacinicz, goof.” She hadn’t missed a syllable or stuttered or stumbled over a letter. People I’d worked with for five years didn’t know how to pronounce my last name, but Candi Caine did. “I meant Dr. Fellatio.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you teach women so much more than how to…you know.” I did know. “You teach them about love, loyalty, friendship, communication. I don’t know. I just think you should give yourself more credit. Dr. Love is corny. Maybe Dr. Relationship.” Because somehow, that wasn’t. “I’m not any good at names. Carl could probably help you out—he’s super smart.”
Carl had already helped far more than I knew what to do with.
“I’ll think about it.”
I’d left right at five o’clock for the first time in weeks. It might have been ten till, I couldn’t be sure. After spending my afternoon dodging questions from Dr. Fellatio’s new clients, who all knew exactly who I was, and haggling with Carl over his cut of the proceeds for a finder’s fee and his administrative duties—maintaining the calendar, taking care of legal documentation, aka contracts, and managing the bookkeeping, i.e. bank deposits—I couldn’t stand being in that place a minute longer.
I feigned a headache, not that it was much of a stretch, and had Chris drop me off at my apartment. After I told him I was going to lie down, I’d done the unthinkable and turned off my phone and hoped it gave me an hour to myself before Jasmine came careening into the apartment. No such luck.
She swung open the door to the apartment, in a dramatic fashion only Jasmine could pull off without someone thinking she was insane. “Where have you been?”
I looked around, thinking the answer was obvious. “Here.”
“Your phone’s off.” She kicked the door closed behind her and threw her purse onto the floor next to it.
“It is.”
“That’s against company policy.”
I shrugged.
“Living on the edge, huh?” Jasmine waltzed over to the couch and threw herself on the opposite side of where I sat. “You’re getting all kinds of ballsy these days. Turning your phone off. Soliciting Dr. Fellatio clients at the office. Violating the fraternization policy. What’s next? You going to try to take over the world?”
“It’s just been a bad day.”
“I’m sorry. Did I hear you correctly? It’s been a bad day?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I have it on good authority that your team is having your name added to their family Christmas cards because they’re convinced they will be getting the Abiti bonus thanks to your idea. Carl made you a millionaire before lunch. And the man of your dreams no longer only visits you when you sleep. Are you waiting for your own purple unicorn to arrive via UPS? Or possibly a mermaid to keep in the bathtub?”
I didn’t know where to start, so I chose the beginning of the day and moved into the altercation with Brad in the conference room.
“Does Chris know?”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“There’s this matter of a fraternization policy in place at Seneca. I’m sure you’re aware of it seeing as how you just mentioned it.”
“Yeah, there’s also one regarding sexual harassment. So if you can’t go to Chris, hightail your sweet ass up to HR. Chris is probably a bad idea anyhow—he’d hurt that Danny DeVito look-alike.”
I ignored her comparison of the movie star to the toad on the third floor. “It’s not that simple, Jasmine. If they call Brad in to ask him about it or if I have to give them a statement about what he said, I’m implicating myself and hurting Chris in the process.”
“So your solution is to let Brad get away with it? Jesus, Alex—the bastard put his hands on you and basically called you a whore.”
“I just can’t risk it.”
“Risk what?” Her voice had risen above casual conversation and bordered on yelling.
“My job!”
“Fuck the job. Have some respect for yourself.”
“Don’t you get it?”
“Clearly, I don’t. Spell it out for me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for my explanation.
“I’m on the cusp of what I’ve spent five years working for. If my ad gets chosen, there’s no way I won’t secure a spot on the team. It would make all the years of fetching coffee and making copies worth it. I’ll have made it to an AR at Seneca Marketing.”
“And then what?” Jasmine cocked her head and raised her brow. Her nostrils flared as she attempted—unsuccessfully, I might add—to mask her anger.
“What do you mean? I’ll have the job of my dreams.”
“What about the man of your dreams?”
“I just told you; I don’t want him to get in trouble, which is why I’m keeping my mouth shut.”
“Has it occurred to you that you can’t have both?”
“Huh?”
“You can’t have the job and the man, Alex. Not unless the two of you are perfectly happy hiding your relationship and living in constant fear that if anyone finds out then one or both of you could be fired.”
She waited for me to answer, respond in some fashion. Blinking didn’t suffice, so she kept talking.
“I’ve supported you in every way possible, Alex. I love you like a sister—you know that. But I just can’t do this again. And I won’t let you do it, either. You have a choice to make. Sooner rather than later.”
“So once again, Chris Moore comes strolling back into town, and I’m the one who has to pick between our relationship and my job—the job I’ve worked five years to get. That’s rich.”
“You had just as much to do with the separation as Chris did.”
“How can you say that?” Her voice had mellowed while I started raving like a banshee.
“You had a choice when he left for Washington. You didn’t choose him. You need to recognize your role in the demise of that relationship and accept that you share equal blame in breaking up.”
“Figures, Chris lures you into his web to scheme for him, to plot with Carl and Candi, and now I’m the bad guy?”
“No, you’re blind. The truth is, you chose to stay here, and he chose to go to California. Both choices, one of you made each of them. Equal fault.”
Thinking back to how agonizing that decision had been, my eyes welled with tears. A sob tore through me as I wailed. “My mother was dying, Jasmine. I couldn’t leave.”
“I’m not saying you made the wrong choice. Just that it was a choice. You chose your mother over Chris. And he chose a job over you. He didn’t think he had options either, yet you believed he did. And you’ve been unwilling to accept that you could have changed all of this then.”
“So I should have left my mom with no one? To die alone?” My chest jerked with hiccupping sobs, remembering just how bad that time had been.
“Not at all. I think you made the right choice. But there was nothing stopping you from packing your paper dolls and loading a U-Haul to drive across the country after she passed away.”
“And just walk away from Merriam Pratt?”
“It’s just a job, Alex. And one you have been miserable in since Seneca took over. But again, it was a choice.”
I’d been so blinded by hurt and grief that I never fathomed he even wanted me after my mom passed away. The only thing I had to hold onto was the job I’d coveted for years that I thought was within reach. And after all this time, I never allowed myself to dwell on it, because Jasmine was right. I’d chosen something over Chris—twice—all while professing my devotion to a man I never put first. I thought I had. I believed with everything in me that I’d put his needs ahead of my own, never wanting
to end up like my parents. In the end, all I’d done was play the victim and then the martyr.
“You’re standing at a crossroad. Seneca Marketing or Chris Moore?”
The promotion was likely only days away. It was so close I could taste it. Four years of college, five years as a junior exec, or Chris—there was no way to have both.
When I didn’t reply, she got up and walked out of the room only to return a few seconds later to toss a roll of toilet paper at me. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.
“Jobs come and go, Alex. Chris Moore won’t be an option again.”
14
Chris
“Good morning, Mr. Moore,” Martha greeted me as I strolled toward her desk in front of my office. I’d given up on trying to get her to call me Patrick.
“Morning.”
“You have a visitor. He was already here when I came in, or I would have asked him to wait outside.”
I wasn’t expecting anyone, and glancing at my watch, no one else should have been here, either. “What time did you get here?”
“Seven thirty.”
Carl.
I smiled at Martha and then stepped into my office.
“Fore!”
I ducked instinctively before realizing he wasn’t using a driver indoors. “What are you doing in here, Carl?”
“Is your eyesight bad?”
“Not at all, why?”
He raised his brows and tilted his head to the green.
“Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Day hasn’t started yet, muchacho. Nothing like a round with the sunrise to start off a new week.”
“Out.”
“Oh, come on. Alex is getting busy with Martin. Apparently, she likes her zip-and-slide in the morning. No one will look for me”—he glanced at his watch—“for at least fifteen minutes. And if he’s having a really good day, they’ve been known to go for hours.”
“I thought she was meeting with the ad team?” Carl often left me disoriented.
“Is that what she’s telling you?” He shook his head. “Gotta be careful around girls like that.”
“What are you talking about?”
He cupped his hand around the side of his mouth and announced in a stage whisper, “Her affair with Martin.”
Clueless. I should be thankful for that. “She’s not having an affair with Martin.” The notion was preposterous—even Carl should see that. “He’s in his sixties.”
“Forty-two.”
It wasn’t possible. “They’re not sleeping together.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“I can.”
“Have you ever been in the room when they’re alone together?”
“If they were alone, then obviously, I wouldn’t be in the room.”
“My point exactly.”
I moved to stand behind him, gripped both of his shoulders, and walked him to the door. He held his hands up in defeat, but other than that, he left quietly. Thank God. Although, I wasn’t sure why I’d kicked him out so quickly, considering I spent the next few hours watching the clock like a hawk, barking at my employees, and answering emails from our corporate office. Her ad pitch was today, and even though she wouldn’t be there—apparently, only the actual team members were allowed in—I knew her nerves had to be as fried as my own.
Nearing the end of my rope, Martha buzzed my intercom. “Mr. Moore, Alex Carnahan is here to see you.” I wondered if Lexi was the butt of some surname joke she wasn’t privy to. It wasn’t possible for that many people to be unable to pronounce Cacinicz.
“Cacinicz,” I corrected.
“Bless you.”
“Come again?”
“You sneezed. I said, ‘bless you.’”
And now I realized why she never corrected anyone—fruitless effort. “Send her in.”
The door opened, and the vibrant woman I loved in college stood in front of me, exuding confidence and a smile that could have lit a dark room. When she’d told me over the weekend about how disheartened she’d become with Seneca, I almost didn’t believe it. As long as I’d known her, all she’d wanted was an AR spot at what was then Miriam Pratt. But after years of chasing one dream, only to lose the other she’d cared about—us—never being promoted had caused her to doubt herself. I hated that, hated how her passion seemed to have vanished, and all I wanted was to see that excitement on her face again. And looking at her now, I saw the determination and spark she’d had years ago.
“Come in, Alex. You can close the door behind you.” It was said for show, just in case Martha was listening.
But apparently, Lexi approved of my authoritative tone. Her cheeks flushed, and the blue in her eyes brightened at the sound of it. She launched herself into my arms as soon as she was close enough and kissed me as though she no longer worried about getting caught. When she finally broke free and slid down my body to stand on her own, the pink in her cheeks and the puff of her lips stole my breath.
“I take it things went well?”
“They loved it. Martin called me a few minutes ago to tell me he heard from Kyle, and Abiti chose my pitch as one of the final contenders.” She squealed with excitement while practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Then he told me how impressed he is with my initiative and intuition.”
I loved that I’d been able to have a part in what had put that smile on her lips. And when she stared up at me with adoration and pride swirling with appreciation and genuine happiness, there wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do to keep that look permanently on her face. Not even getting the promotion that brought me back to Lexi felt as good as seeing her like this.
“Thank you, Chris.” Her eyes brimmed with tears that fell when she blinked. She raised herself up on her toes and kissed my jaw.
I was about to say those three words out loud, directed at her for the first time in three years, when the office door sprung open without so much as a knock. She jerked away from me, turning to face the intruder, while I choked on my unspoken declaration of love.
“Looks like I wasn’t too far off the mark,” a short, balding man who resembled Danni DeVito as the Penguin sneered while casting a hateful glare at Lexi. Luckily, the rest of the team had been behind him, so they didn’t witness whatever piece of that he saw.
I didn’t know what he was talking about, nor did I particularly care. No matter what he’d meant by his vile remark, Lexi didn’t deserve to be talked to that way—let alone looked at like that by anyone, man or woman. I took a step forward, ready to unleash on this asshole but was quickly stopped when one of the other guys moved to stand in front of me, looking happy as a hog in slop, and he extended his hand in my direction.
“I see you met Brad.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to baldy. “I’m Kyle, the lead on Team F. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moore. I can’t thank you enough for all the work you put into this pitch. The program certainly caught their attention.”
I shook his hand, appreciating how firm his grip was—nothing was worse than grabbing a limp noodle. “Please, call me Patrick. And it was no problem. I was just the muscle behind the brains. It was all Alex’s idea; I just did what I was told.”
My gaze slid to Lexi, who stood frozen in the same spot she was when the door had flown open. I wasn’t sure she was even breathing—although, she hadn’t turned blue…yet.
“Well, we’re thankful for you all the same,” Kyle continued. “This is the rest of the team.” He carried on, introducing the other three men in the room, but I hadn’t paid any attention to what their names were. I couldn’t take my eyes off Lexi, wishing I could wipe away the worry that marred her beautiful features. I just hoped her lipstick hadn’t stained my mouth, although I’m sure we looked guiltier than a puppy in the middle of a mess.
“Abiti loved the concept.” Kyle moved toward my desk, not the least bit affected by Lexi’s presence in my office. I could only assume he believed that was the only reason she was here—the campaign. “They�
��ve got other pitches to hear today, but we’re definitely a top contender. They sent us back with a list of questions, changes, and tweaks regarding the dressing room software. If you can make them happen, I think we’re golden.”
My mind warred with how to handle this. Lexi still hadn’t budged, Brad hadn’t taken his accusing glare off her, and I didn’t have any viable reason to ask any of them to leave. “Sure. Why don’t you grab a couple extra chairs out by the elevator?”
Kyle made his way to my desk while Brad continued the standoff with Lexi.
I angled my body to prevent Brad from seeing the pleading glance I gave the female statue in front of me. “Alex, have a seat.”
Kyle turned in the chair to address Lexi. “No need to stay. We can take it from here.”
His words must’ve snapped her out of the trance she’d been in, because she faced me with a plastic smile and said, “Thanks again, Patrick. I’m sure the team appreciates all you did to make this happen.” Without waiting for a response, she scurried across my office, defeated and afraid.
This was her idea. She’d pulled it together. It didn’t matter that I designed the program, without her asking me to do it, this group of asshats wouldn’t have even been able to make the pitch, much less nab the account.
Lexi hadn’t stayed to fight. She hadn’t bitten back at the douchebag’s snide comment. The girl I knew never choked, she wouldn’t lie down and take a beating. Seneca might’ve stolen the fire she once had for her job, but they hadn’t touched the fire I’d always have for her.
I moved to stand next to Kyle and leaned down with one palm against the top of my desk, and the other bracing myself on his armrest. I had no clue how many of the guys had returned with chairs or who was in the room. I didn’t care. They couldn’t touch me. Without me, they didn’t have a program to offer their buyer.
“Is this how you treat the people who make you look good in front of a client? Who bust their asses to give you new and fresh ideas to sell? You kick them out once you get what you were looking for because they’re no longer needed?”
