by Shae Ross
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough. I was wrong to doubt you,” I say.
“You’re goddamn right you were wrong.” She pushes away and walks back up the steps, gripping the railing.
I watch her disappear through the doors and into the crowd, feeling as big an asshole as she believes me to be. One thing is clear to me now: Ryan Rose deserves so much better than I can give her. I know exactly what I’ve lost. Something irreplaceable and so much more valuable than this stupid competition. Mr. Trott’s words come back to me: The most valuable lessons in life aren’t learned in the workplace. He’s got that right.
My feet take the steps two at a time, descending lifelessly to the sidewalk. I start walking. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I need to clear my head. My cell vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and grimace at my dad’s timing. Well, when the world’s kicking the shit out of me, I might as well get this over with.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Congratulations,” he says.
“What?”
“Congratulations. I heard you won.”
“Who the hell did you hear that from? The results haven’t been announced yet, Dad. Not until nine o’clock.”
“Crap, I’m in California and my timing is off.”
My brows knit together as I look at my watch. It’s 8:25 p.m. “How do you know we won, Dad?”
He pauses a beat and I know what he’s done.
“Well…” he says, and I picture him smiling on the other end of the line. Somehow, he’s called in some kind of favor to someone he knows at Trott Ventures and leaned on them to make sure we’ve won.
I clench my jaw and shake my head. “Why would you do that?”
“Jett, come on. I need you at Jett Industries. I’ve got to hire another operations manager, and I can’t wait two years to do that. I want you in that slot. I figure you can cut your contract a little short at Trott and be on board by January.”
I look down at my feet, and I’m standing on the edge of a path in Central Park. It reminds me of the same path I’ve seen Ryan trotting down every morning while I pored over Jett Industries ledgers. I stare straight ahead into the empty distance, imminently more welcoming than this conversation with my dad.
“I’ve got news for you, Dad. You’re gonna have to find someone else. I’m quitting before I even start.” I hang up on him and turn around, back to the Met to find Mr. Trott.
I shoulder my way into the lobby and scan the room. I walk deeper into the crowd and see Jillian and Ben talking. I make my way over to them and ask her if she knows where her father might be.
“Last I saw him, he was up on the balcony.” I look up and spot him chatting with Robert and two other men. I take the stairs two at a time and make my way around to them.
“Jett,” he says with enthusiasm.
“Can I talk to you, Mr. Trott?”
“Sure, Jett, let’s walk.” He extends his hand and we head down the corridor. He’s looking at me as I process the best way to tell him my worries about my dad. “Everything all right?”
“Team Jett may need to withdraw from the competition.”
He looks at me as if he’s measuring my commitment to my words. He takes off his glasses and lowers his chin as he looks at me. “Jett,” he says, “you can’t be serious. Why would you want to do that, son?
“I understand feelings can often develop between our candidates. It’s an intense week, and when you put six intelligent, attractive college students in the same room together, day after day, things are bound to happen. But, Jett, you don’t want to throw the opportunity just because of some twist-up with one of the girls—Ryan, I presume.”
“I’m not throwing the competition because of Ryan. I’m throwing it because I believe my father’s coerced someone into helping Team Jett pull out the win.” He raises an eyebrow, lowers his chin to his chest, and takes a breath. He unfolds his glasses and sets them back on his face. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve offended him.
“I can assure you, Jett, if you do win the competition it won’t be because of anything your dad said or did. It will be because you scored the highest points in this week’s competition. Even if I wanted to, I can’t change the results now. You signed a contract at the beginning of the competition binding you to the employment in the event you win, and I have to furnish the ACE’s organization with the results. If you wanted to withdraw, you’d have to appeal to them and it’s a little late for that, son. Your heart is in the right place, Jett, and I admire that, but the decision is not yours to make—or your dad’s.”
He smiles and pats my shoulder as he heads back to resume his conversation with Robert and the others.
I walk to the edge of the balcony and stare down, feeling a little more assured—if we do end up winning this thing at least I won’t have my dad’s meddling on my conscience. I see Ryan’s parents chatting with Devi and Jade, but no Ryan. Vaughn is talking with someone I don’t recognize, and Ben is still talking to Jillian.
I scan the crowd and see him. Phil has reappeared. My gaze narrows, and I watch him making his way diagonally across the floor to the great hall’s exit. He’s focused on something ahead of him. He pushes through the door that leads to the hallway with the back bathrooms. It’s the same hallway I met Ryan in last week and earlier this evening with her mom. It’s been her pattern to use that bathroom just before the presentations start. She’s in there, and Phil’s gunning for her. Shit.
In my frantic effort to fix things with Trott, I’ve totally overlooked the fact that Phil could still be lurking, waiting to corner Ryan. I turn and dash for the stairway. My legs swallow the steps three at a time. The crowd flows over me and I feel like I’m swimming upstream as I weave around bodies, hell-bent on reaching Phil before he gets to Ryan.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan Rose
I wash my hands and check my makeup one more time. I’m praying we’ve won the competition and it will all have been worth it. Win or lose, I’m ready to get the final ceremony out of the way.
I’ve calmed down a little since hearing Jett’s explanation for Phil’s appearance. I wish he could have stopped with that, though, and not told me that he thought I was playing him. On the other hand, I thought the exact same thing about him two days ago. I thought he was gaming our team when I found Jade’s underwear. At least I have to give him credit for being honest. He didn’t have to tell me. He could have just played the whole thing off and blamed it on seeing me with Robert. I head out of the bathroom and into the dim hallway. A man stands still at the end, waiting. I take a deep breath…Jett.
I exhale and walk toward the shadow. Something in the way he’s standing causes me to pause. My knee twists; I stumble and stop. That’s not Jett. The man steps out of the shadow, and I’m staring at Phil. I brace my fingers against the wall and try to swallow over the dryness in my throat.
“Hi, Ryan,” he says, walking slowly to me. “Surprised to see me tonight?”
“Nothing you do surprises me anymore, Phil.” My heart starts to pound as he swaggers toward me. All the things I swore I’d do and say to him if I ever saw him again flee, and all I can do now is stare at him, my stomach twisting into knots.
He stops in front of me. His face looks so familiar and yet somehow different, paler and more prominently dusted with freckles, his reddish-brown hair darker by a shade.
“You look stunning,” he says, and his eyes skim over me. He seems to recognize the uncertainty in my eyes and he raises his hands as if to present his own innocence.
“I didn’t mean to throw your little speech off. I only came so I could talk to you. You never really gave me a chance to explain before you slapped me with a restraining order.”
I start to move past him, raising my forearm against the sleeve of his suit coat to block him from coming any closer.
Blunt fingers close around my elbow. His bottom lip hangs open as he stares at me. “Ryan, wait. Please. I wasn’t cheating on you. I know it looked th
at way.” His movements are slow and cautious as he pulls me closer, yet his eyes reflect a seductive confidence, luring me with the promise of forgetting the past, starting over with Phil Derringer, the future pro athlete with a promising career ahead of him. His mother’s words ring in my ear: Well, aren’t you just pretty enough to be a pro ball player’s wife.
I may be pretty enough; I’m just not stupid enough to aspire only to that.
The spicy oak scent of his cologne turns my stomach.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ryan. If you would have let me explain instead of attacking me…”
“Me attacking you? Is that really what you think happened?”
“Hey.” His voice raises. “You swung first.”
“You’re right, I did swing first, and I know this is an awful thing to admit, but I don’t regret it for one second. The only thing I regret is being half your size.”
“It can be good again between us. I promise.”
“Good again? It was never good, Phil.”
His lip raises at the corner. “You’re just remembering the bad stuff.”
I twist my arm out of his grip and step back, holding a finger up. “Don’t touch me. Ever again.” I turn on my heel and move swiftly out of his reach.
“You don’t even know what you’re walking away from,” his voice echoes down the hall.
“Oh yes, I do. I know exactly and I walked away months ago.”
I hear his steps coming behind me and I pick up my pace. I’m almost to the door and the safety of the great hall. Just as my hand is about to push, it opens and I’m staring at Jett. He pulls me toward him, stepping between me and Phil.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“She’s nothing but trouble, Jett.”
His eyes raise and lock on Phil’s with a menacing glare. The side of his jaw shifts, and he starts to move as if he’s going to confront Phil.
“Jett.” I hold him in place with a flat hand against his chest.
“If she is, she’s my trouble, and if I see you near her again we’ll be exchanging more than words.”
“He doesn’t deserve any more of my time, or yours. It’s over and we have to be back on stage.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Positive. Will you walk with me to the stage?”
I slip my arm through his and we head out into the hum of the great hall. We’re moving our way slowly through the crowd, smiling and nodding as people wish us good luck. The lights brighten above our heads and then dim. We stop and turn hesitantly to each other.
He blinks hard and runs a hand through his hair. “God, I’m sorry, Ryan.”
“I’m sorry, too, Jett.
His hands come up to hold the tops of my arms, and he’s staring intensely down at me. His thumbs move, caressing my bare skin. “I’d walk out those doors with you right now if you ask me to.” I follow his gaze toward the front of the great hall. I can’t say I’m not tempted. The thought of abandoning the competition and walking out with nothing but the guaranteed salvation of our relationship… I close my eyes and think about his words. God, how good that would feel, and the fact that he’s standing in front of me offering to make that sacrifice for me…for us, well that feels even better. I smile up at him and lift the fantasy.
“We can’t. There are too many people counting on us. Your team and my team and the Trotts.”
“And all I care about is you.” I stare at his charcoal eyes, and for a moment nothing exists except the connection between us. It’s only been a week, but in this moment, I am in love with this man.
His head inches closer to mine. The second strike of the light flashes through the air, and we’re cast in shadows as his lips meet mine. My hand raises to his face. We kiss and he drops his forehead on mine. I close my eyes and breathe him in. Another burst of light strikes and dims.
“Good luck, Ryan.” His voice sounds tortured and I shake my forehead against his, pressing my eyes closed tight.
“Good luck, Jett.”
He raises his head and kisses my hair.
The light returns, and I’m staring at the stage and the empty chairs on both sides of the podium.
“Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
He holds his elbow out. I loop my hand into the crook of his arm. He closes his fingers over mine and leads me through the crowd, up the steps, and to my seat. I stand and watch Devi and Jade crossing the stage. They take their places beside me. I breathe out a low breath and smile at them.
Mr. Trott steps onto the stage and raises his arms to the audience. “Finally,” he says, clapping his hands together, “the moment of the evening you’ve all been waiting for.” He pauses and pans a dramatic gaze over the audience. “But first.” He points a finger up in the air and smiles. “One line of business we need to tend to. If you had a chance to review the portfolios, you know one of the missions that the candidates had this week was to recommend a charitable giving program for Trott Ventures. For this exercise, we paired partners from opposite teams and asked our candidates to focus on lessons of teamwork and cooperation. The winners of that challenge now have the honor of presenting a Trott Ventures check to the charity they’ve selected. And the winning coed team for that challenge was,” he turns toward the men and then to us. “Ryan Rose and Jett Trebuchet for their proposal on the Pancreatic Cancer organization.” A life-size image of Jett and me shaking hands at the opening ceremony appears on the screen behind him.
Mr. Trott signals us. Jett and I approach the podium while a woman dressed in all black makes her way down the aisle and onto the stage. She beams at us from behind purple horn-rimmed glasses and pumps both of our hands. Mr. Trott introduces her as the president of the PAN-CAN organization, hands Jett the check, and extends an open palm toward the microphone.
Jett puts his hand on my arm, escorts me to the microphone, and steps back to my side.
“On behalf of my partner and myself, I want to thank the Trott family for the opportunity to participate in their charitable outreach program.” I angle my body to Jett and return his look of calm reassurance with a heartfelt smile. “We are the surviving children of parents who died from cancer. My father died from pancreatic cancer forty-one days after being diagnosed. Presenting this donation accomplishes a goal that I have had since childhood—being able to do something meaningful to support the Pancreatic Cancer organization. One of the most valuable lessons I will take away from this week of competition is that if you are working with the right partner, you can achieve goals beyond what you imagined possible.” I reach for Jett’s hand and he steps up next to me. The audience starts clapping. He’s flashing me his “Jett” smile—dark blue eyes that narrow at the outer edges, long dimple creasing his left cheek, a flash of white teeth—but behind it I see something in his expression I haven’t seen before and can’t exactly identify; a mix of admiration and humility. I start to move back but his hand on my lower back holds me in place.
“On behalf of Trott Ventures, Ryan and I are honored to present this gift of $50,000 to the Pancreatic Cancer organization.”
The audience applauds as he hands the check to the PAN-CAN president. She grips the podium and Jett and I move back. His voice tickles my ear as he leans over and speaks. “Rock star.” I smile and move closer so that my shoulder rests against his arm. I reach for his fingertips and he pulls my hand into the crook of his arm.
The president concludes her short speech and Jett escorts me back to my seat.
I swallow and let him go, watching his long legs move gracefully back to his seat. Mr. Trott stands and approaches the podium. Here it comes.
“Well, we’ve arrived at the moment you’ve all been waiting for. What you just saw demonstrates what an exceptionally talented group of ‘Treps we have with us this week. Please give them one last round of applause.” He raises his hands to the audience like Moses parting the Red Sea. The audience claps and Devi, Jade, and I stare across at the Michigan men
, who are all staring back at us. I shift in my seat, face forward, and straighten my spine. I feel as if we’re in a roller coaster car at the top of the first hill about to plunge downward.
Mr. Trott clears his throat. “Without further ado, the winner of this year’s ACE’s ‘Treps competition is…” He peers over his bifocals, looking to Team Jett then to us and back to Team Jett. He smiles at the men.
“Team Jett from the University of Michigan. Congratulations to Jett Trebuchet, Ben Winslow, and Vaughn Jung.”
Jade lets out a heavy sigh and I hear Devi say, “Shit” under her breath. I let Mr. Trott’s words sink in. Nothing feels worse than losing—like mud in the stomach: thick, slow, and mind numbing. I can’t look at Jade. I can’t look at Devi, and I can’t look at my parents. I’m pleading with my alter ego to hold it together. I tell myself to get up. I know what needs to be done. The men are standing and we’re clapping for them. Mr. Trott is shaking their hands with congratulatory gusto as they return his smile.
“Let’s go offer our congratulations,” I say to Jade and Devi. They follow my lead and we move with robotic poise.
The crowd is beginning to gather around the men. Jett is talking to Mrs. Trott. She’s bestowing upon him an enthusiastic smile and I see Jillian a few feet away from them, pressing her double Ds into Ben’s chest, hugging him longer than what seems appropriate.
Mrs. Trott walks to our side of the stage and I reach a hand out to her. “We are happy to have had the experience,” I say. Mr. Trott joins her and extends a hand to my shoulder, telling me how tough of a decision it was this year. Robert steps up as Mr. Trott moves away.
He shakes my hand, placing his other hand on top of mine. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I know how much it meant to you. You had my vote.” I see Jett’s eyes staring at me from over Robert’s shoulder. He looks as if he’s trying to make his way over but there’s a gaggle of well-wishers detaining him.
“Thank you for your help this week, Robert.”
He fingercombs a fall of brown hair off his forehead. “You’ve earned the respect of a lot of great business people, including me. If you want the opportunity, I’d be glad to try and help you land a job…”
