A headache throbbed in his temple. Lily, who’d been tapping her red nails on the glossy table, clearly fuming, paused and transferred an incredulous look at Jean. “What? You’ve done everything you can the past year to get out of taking notes at the Friday afternoon meeting.”
“It’s still access to privileged information. And what about the McCloskey account?”
Tim looked between him and Lily. “Alec?”
He spoke to Lily. “You suggested I give Amber more responsibility. I did.”
Lily groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Oh God. What a fucking mess. Yes,” she told Tim. “I did. I was concerned that Alec was holding her back because of lack of faith in her gender. I didn’t know then that...whatever. I still don’t understand how you could do this, Alec. To us, to the firm, to Amber. Couldn’t you keep it in your pants for God’s sake?”
“Now, Lily.” Tim frowned. “Let’s steer this back to a civil discussion. If indeed Amber has no complaint, she has the right of it that their relationship is not in violation of company policy. If we can address Jean’s concerns, then set some ground rules everyone can agree to, then they can continue to—”
“There’s nothing to continue or discuss,” Amber broke in, standing again and picking up her water bottle. Her gaze flicked up to meet his. Heartbroken. “I quit.”
“No, you won’t,” he and Lily said in the same breath.
“Excuse me, the both of you,” Amber replied in a tone that sounded more quietly enraged than respectful, “I did just quit, so you can’t tell me what I will or won’t do. I’ll clear off my desk.” Her glare passed over him, deep blue and glittering. She raised her chin and walked out.
He blew out a long breath and stood also, keeping an eye on Amber as she stalked, stiff-legged, down the hall to her desk. “I apologize to you all for this. If everyone agrees, I’d like to take this plan of action. Amber and I need to have a conversation. Then she and I will discuss with Tim and we’ll bring a proposed resolution to the partners. At that time, we’ll take Jean’s complaint into account and settle that to everyone’s satisfaction. If necessary, I’ll resign from the firm.”
“I think Alec’s suggestion is a good one,” Tim held up his hands like a referee. “I propose you clear your schedule for the day. Take some personal time and decide how you and Amber both would like to proceed. We’ll meet in my office tomorrow morning, then take it to the partners. Please convey to Amber—though I’ll contact her also—that I’m available to talk to her privately. Or would you like me to mediate your conversation with her?”
“That won’t be necessary yet, though I’ll tell her you offered.”
“As will I,” Lily inserted, in a warning tone. “If I get a whiff you’ve tried to intimidate her, Alec...”
He managed to suppress the laugh. Nothing and no one intimidated Amber. How long would it take her to clear her desk? He wanted to catch her before she left the building.
“I’ll echo that warning.” Tim leveled a stern look on him. “Jean, feel free to see me to discuss your thoughts further, but for now I’m asking you and everyone to keep this away from the water cooler gossip, okay? Let’s demonstrate a bit of discretion and sensitivity here.”
“We don’t want to lose you, Alec,” Bill said, holding up a hand to forestall whatever Lily had been about to say. “Either of you. But get this handled. If she comes back with a lawsuit...”
“Oh Christ.” Lily put her head in her hands. “That’s all we need.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll shoulder the financial hit. Whatever it takes,” he told them. Hai Lin shrugged, as if it were all immaterial to her, and Bill nodded. “Lily?”
She tipped her glasses down her nose. “I’d want to know how this happened. I would never have expected this of you, Alec, of all people. Why did you do it?”
The bald question sank through his gut. Why this is hell...No. Not that. Not anymore.
“All I can offer is that I had to. I had to change or die.”
Chapter Thirty-One
He caught her just as she finished piling her few belongings into a box she’d obviously snagged from the copy room, everyone around her surreptitiously watching, without staring. The gossip would start up as soon as she left.
She flashed him a hard look as he walked up. “Come to see that I’m escorted from the building?”
“No. I’m taking a personal day—as are you—and we’re going to talk.”
“I’m not—”
He stopped her with his own hard look, raising his brows to indicate the many avid eavesdroppers. “Leave those things. Let’s go walk in the park.”
She huffed out an exasperated breath, but did as he said. Either out of reflex or simple expedience. They walked together out of the building, the marble-and-glass lobby nearly empty with all the morning commuters at their desks now. The click of Amber’s heels echoed in the quiet, going faster than she usually did and Alec had the absurd—probably inadvisable—urge to take her arm to keep her from running off.
“I feel like I’m being sent home from school,” she commented.
He laughed, surprising himself that he could. “It is rather like that. Were you ever?”
“Once.” She shook her head. “For a stupid girl thing. My best friend wrote something mean in my yearbook, so I wrote a similarly mean reply in hers. Only she took hers to the school counselor and I ended up looking like the bad guy. I cried.” She gave him a look, defying him to comment. “My Achilles’ heel. I cry when I’m mad, when I’m hurt, when I’m embarrassed or ashamed. I hate it. I nearly started bawling in that fucking meeting.”
“But you held it together.” He held the door for her and they walked out into the brilliant morning sunshine.
“Barely.”
“Understandable, as the entire scenario was decidedly unpleasant.”
She whirled on him. Stopped to face him on the sidewalk. “Don’t you dare whip out the Brit equivalent of ‘I told you so.’ What do you want to hear—that you called it? That you were right all along, that you and I bumping nasties would lead directly to this? Fine. You were right. I was stupid. Happy?”
“Not even close to it.”
“Well, welcome to the club.” She sighed, rubbed her temple. “Look—you don’t need to worry. I don’t plan to complain to Tim. I’ll sign whatever to guarantee I won’t bring a lawsuit. Just let me complete the process of removing my unwelcome, perverted presence from your life.”
“I’m sorry. For what I said. For how I’ve behaved. All of it.”
She set her jaw and opened her eyes wide, staring at the stone wall.
“I think you were right,” he said, quietly and steadily. “It played that way because I ensured it would.”
She raised her brows, sarcastic. “You made sure Jean would see us in the park? You sly dog.”
“Not that. Come. Let’s talk this out.” He touched her arm now, not her skin but the black sleeve of her suit jacket.
“The duck pond?”
“Where do you go, to clear your mind? It’s occurred to me that I’ve been selfish—in that and other ways—always in my territory, as it were.”
“I liked your places. I was happy to share that with you.” Her tone made it clear that was no longer true.
“Is it all past tense then?”
She searched his face, uncertain, unhappy. “Why are you doing this, Alec? The guilt you’re so good at wallowing in? We had this conversation yesterday. I bared my heart to you, told you I was falling in love with you—for the first time in my whole freaking life, I might add—and you very coolly said that you couldn’t say the same. I wanted to believe it was more than what it was, that I meant more to you than some passing fancy.”
“Amber—”
“No, I get it. So, I’m coping. I bawl
ed on my girlfriend’s shoulder, drank entirely too much wine and made myself sick on ice cream. I may have slept in your sweater, but I’ll have it dry cleaned and sent to you. I can’t say you didn’t break my heart, but you were very clear from the beginning. All of that was on me. I accept it. I appreciate you being all gallant in that meeting, but we both know none of this would have happened if I hadn’t pushed you into it. The wages of my sin, right? I get what I get. I might be hungover as hell, but I have my big girl panties on and I’m dealing. Please don’t make it more difficult.” She screwed up her face and heaved an exasperated sigh, then brushed away the tears that had started to fall. “Dammit.”
“I suppose we’ll have this conversation on the street corner then.” He set his briefcase on a sloping stone window ledge, the person at the desk inside looking startled. Ignoring him, Alec opened it and took out the book. “I found this as I was packing up your things to send to you.”
“Thanks for that. It was good to have my makeup this morning.” She eyed the book. “You might as well keep it. I was going to give it to you. Or return it—I think I used your money to buy it anyway.”
“I already read it. And ordered the others. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“Decent dinner conversation, at least?” She made it sound scornful, but he had her curiosity now.
“At the very least.”
She transferred her gaze away, frowning as she caught sight of the person inside the window watching them. “Let’s go to the park already.” She pulled out her sunglasses, surreptitiously wiped her cheeks and started walking.
* * *
He caught up to her easily, carrying Sandman in one hand, briefcase in the other, looking ridiculously gorgeous in his three-piece suit and understated tie. So unfair when she looked dragged in from the gutter it felt like she’d slept in. Even though he’d been pretty much ambushed by that personnel meeting—God knows she’d been—he’d recovered with his typical aplomb.
She’d nearly hurled her water bottle at him for it.
Until he started defending her. Taking the noble stand, of course. Watching her with that compassionate gaze that felt like a caress. Only he could cut out her heart as concisely as he had and then have her wanting to hand it to him again. Only he could make her feel simultaneously cherished and meaningless.
He didn’t say anything as they walked the blocks to Central Park. Giving her space to settle, most likely, as he did. Following along as if they were taking a stroll. Then giving her an interested look when she stopped and sat on a bench across from the carousel.
“It’s a childish choice probably.” She knew she sounded defensive. “But it makes me happy.” Not many people rode it yet, just past ten on a Monday morning, but the lilting music played and the colorful horses pranced up and down, people smiling and laughing.
“You like ponies,” he commented, sitting beside her. “The blue unicorns on your bag.”
She made an indignant sound. “Rainbow Dash is a Pegasus, thank you. I’d think a classicist like you would know that.”
“I didn’t recall Pegasus having rainbows for a mane and tail.” He sounded wry. Teasing her. It hurt her heart.
“She represents loyalty. Never mind—it’s a dumb thing, too, I know.”
“There’s nothing stupid about loyalty.” Alec set the book aside and took her hand in both of his. “You showed nothing but to me and I came up empty.”
“I gave it ‘proper thought,’ you know. The daddy sex thing. I think that was unfair. I never looked for a daddy. I fell for you, not some idea of who you’d be. That’s your baggage, not mine.”
“It is. I’m sorry for it.”
The tears wanted to well up yet again and she stared hard at the carousel horses. “I hate that you’re ashamed of me. What you said to me.”
To his credit, he didn’t deny it, but stroked her hand, tracing the lines of her fingers. “I hate it, too. I’m not proud of how I behaved. You said, in the car, that I was afraid. I don’t think that’s true. Or not entirely true.”
She shrugged a little. “It really doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” He raised her hand and kissed it. “You said that the King of Dreams’s story began when he realized he had to change or die. But that’s not what the stories are about, are they?”
“You really did read it?”
“It took some time to become accustomed to the flow of the graphics, reading down and sideways and diagonally. Rather like settling into the rhythm of Shakespeare, though—it creates its own lyricism. An almost poetic impact.”
“Only you would say something like that.”
“He quotes Marlowe’s Faustus, near the end of this volume.”
“I know. I thought it was interesting, how we intersected on that.” That they’d traveled similar paths, if on parallel planes of their generations. Something he hadn’t seemed to recognize.
“‘It is a comfort in wretchedness to have companions in woe,’” he quoted.
“In other words, misery loves company. Is that what we’re doing here—prolonging the misery?”
“I found the story horrifying—especially towards the end, with Morpheus having lost his power and the world in chaos. Nightmares come to life. Not light reading.”
“It is horror,” she pointed out.
“I think I know why you wanted me to read it.”
Did she know? “Why?”
“You see me as him, the King of Dreams, as he is at the end. With everything he sought, but he’s empty, without purpose. Feeding pigeons in the park.”
“Well, if you can’t feed ducks, at least you can feed pigeons.” She tried to make it a joke, but she was searching her mind for the why of it. “I don’t think that’s true. I suggested Morpheus as a safeword long before I knew...”
“How empty I was?”
“You’re not empty. Though you may bear a superficial resemblance to Dream, especially when you’re broody.” She couldn’t help looking at him, meeting his somber gaze. “You’re using my metaphor.”
“Creakily perhaps. It occurred to me, sometime between last night and this morning, that I can see how I’ve been like your Morpheus, sitting patiently in my prison, waiting for the memories to die and the walls to crumble away. While the world passes by.”
“You’ve hardly been entombed.”
“It’s felt something like that. My flat, without you in it, feels that way. I was so wrapped up in feeling out of control with you, resisting the temptation you represented to me, that I couldn’t see past it to what was important—treating you as the gift you are. The young woman who appears at the end. You look nothing like her, his sister Death, and yet...” He paused thoughtfully.
“And yet?”
He stroked her hand and smiled ruefully. “She sets him free, doesn’t she? Kicks at him and gets him to see what matters. I see it now in a way I didn’t before—that the promise of paradise is worth anything.”
The flare of hope rubbed like salt in her wounded heart. “Alec, I can’t...”
He nodded, thoughtfully, sorrowfully. “I can understand that. I certainly don’t deserve another chance with you. But I need you to know that I never, not for one instant, was ashamed of you. If anything, I was ashamed of myself.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I know that. Sort of.” He smiled ruefully and trailed a finger down her cheek. “Except that I was so wrapped up in worrying about how badly I wanted you, fighting to understand why I couldn’t seem to resist you, that I failed to recognize the obvious truth.”
“What’s that?” The hope began to feel better, rising up with the gleaming carousel horses.
“You know. You knew that day in my office, or the day you asked me why you get to me as you do. You called me obsessive, but I’m n
ot. Not normally.”
“You do have some OCD issues,” she said, mostly to needle him. Because she needed him to smile, so she wouldn’t start crying again.
He didn’t smile though. Just gazed soberly at her, groping for the words. “I should have known what drove me so hard, why I never had a chance to resist you. With anyone else, I could have. But there was never a chance of not taking the opportunity to touch you, when you offered it.” He ran his fingers over the line of her jaw, brushing down her throat, face intent as if he somehow tasted her through the tender touch that made her shiver to her bones. “You are what I need. What I can’t make on my own. You’re not innocence, but light.
“I don’t know when or how it happened—” he stroked her collarbone, watching the movement, then met her eyes, “—but you must know that I love—I love you. Every second of every day.”
Luff.
“Why tell me now—why didn’t you just say so yesterday?”
“I couldn’t see it then. Only when—insanely enough—Lily asked me why I couldn’t keep it in my pants. I could have. But you already had my heart, so there was no point but to let the rest of me follow.”
The hope bubbled over, becoming a laugh. “That has to be the most unromantic thing ever.”
“I know. I know, love.” He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “You have no reason to give it another go, but I’m asking anyway. I know I’m moody. I’ll try to change.”
The carousel whirled, horses prancing up and down. “There’s another song I like,” she told him, feeling her way through, sorting all the ups and downs. “About a merry-go-round as a metaphor for life. How some things have to go up for others to come down. And one part says how the moon can’t glow if the sky isn’t dark enough.”
He looked bemused. “What does that mean?”
“If I’m your light, maybe you’re my dark. I’ve never minded it. You know that. You’re the one who worried about it.”
“True.”
“I never asked you to change. I asked you to tell me that I’m more than the cliché. That I mean more to you than the taboo. More than arm candy.”
Under His Touch Page 28
