“I’m not requesting any. I have my own merits.” Her eyes were blue steel, gazing into mine, as she unconsciously flicked blonde curls over her shoulder. “You’ll see.”
A challenge. "Well. I’m sure I’ll enjoy watching you try."
Our staring contest was interrupted by the in-house photographer, a stressed young man who I’d consider nice if it wasn’t for his ruthless insistence on ensuring the marketing team always gets the best photos.
It often put us at odds.
“Mr. Wood! Miss Hathaway! Can I get a photo of the two of you? Perhaps with the senior Mr. Hathaway as well?”
I sighed. “Where do you want us?”
“Against the white wall, with the logo. Yes, like that. Give me a moment to ask Mr. Hathaway - stay there, sir!”
Ada leaned against the wall next to me, her long dress billowing out around her like water. She looked fluid, gorgeous, a woman made to be swept up by strong arms. But the smile she shot me was all sharp edges.
“How’s my dad?”
“What?”
"I reckon he spends more time lunching and golfing with you than he does with me." Her head tilted slightly to the side. "How's he been?"
Was she truly asking this? I turned to face her entirely. “Not well. It’s been two years, but that’s no time. It hasn’t helped that he’s had to worry about you.”
Her gaze slid off me and into the distance, heavy lashes lowering. "Are behavioral lectures included in the internship? Or is this just a bonus session?"
“Would you still want it if they were?”
Her focus snapped back to me. “Yes. I’m up to the challenge.”
The silent question hung in the air. Are you?
"I'm here! Didn't mean to keep you waiting." Arthur hurried to us, an apologetic shrug to his shoulders. I wondered if he'd have apologized three years ago, or ten. The man he'd become after his son died was so radically different. I felt a sudden hatred for Ada then, for not seeing that.
He stepped up beside me. Ada flowed into place on my right, close enough that I felt the warmth from her lithe body.
“All together now!” The photographer called.
Ada’s hand slipped under my arm, an intimate movement that brought us closer, made us look like a united front.
“Don’t forget to smile, Grant,” she murmured to me.
I gritted my teeth.
“3, 2, 1-“ The flash went off, blinding us all for a moment.
And then she was off, thanking the photographer with a blinding smile and weaving through the crowd. I watched her go. Ada Hathaway, blonde, spoiled, and entirely too snarky for her own good.
"She's welcome to start on Monday," I told Arthur beside me. "A three-month-long internship with the executive unit."
My former mentor gave me a grateful smile. “Thank you. Did she manage to convince you? She can be persuasive.”
Hah. “Yes. She did.”
Once, years ago, I’d been seated behind her and her twin brother. I had only been working at Hathaway’s for a few months and was eager to prove myself.
This was a business I knew I could thrive in, grow, and learn constantly. I could gain the respect of my peers and perhaps one day turn Hathaway's into a fully fledged empire, dealing with real estate, antiques, paintings - everything. I was already wealthy by that point, but I wanted more - I wanted to be untouchable. Filthy rich. Secure.
Ada had been a teenager, rosy and vapid and her hair gleaming before me. Her twin brother had walked as if wearing a halo, the golden son. They carried themselves with that natural grace so much of the Manhattan elite has, their silver spoons practically visible.
Neither of them had seen me seated behind them.
“Have you seen fathers new hire?” Max had whispered, loud enough for me to hear.
“Yes,” she’d replied. “Pathetic. It’s so ironic he’s named Grant.”
“Follows father around like a dog.” Max snickered.
I disliked her from the first time I met her, but I truly detested them both that day and vowed to stay as far away from Arthur’s children as possible. It hadn’t been difficult. They had rarely come by the firm, and when I gradually began to take over from Arthur, I knew that was a closed chapter.
Or it had been, until one of them would start fucking interning here.
But… if Ada was here, under my command, she’d have to heed me. I didn’t think she’d ever taken orders in her pretty, manicured little life. Perhaps this could even be fun, tormenting her at her own expense. And what had Arthur said earlier?
Don’t go easy on her.
I smiled, watching the gold of her hair as she weaved her way effortlessly through the crowd.
I wouldn’t.
3
Ada
To my father's credit, I had gotten dressed in a tight pencil skirt, a silk blouse, and my best nude pumps.
And I was there at 7:50 AM, with ten minutes to spare.
In all fairness, I couldn’t very well torment Grant if I was fired on the spot. And while I did look forward to potentially being a menace for both Grant and my father, I didn’t want the latter to remove me from the trust fund. There was still enough self-preservation in me to see that possibility for the cliff-edge it was.
"I'm Ada," I said to the receptionist when I arrived. "I think Grant Wood might be expecting me?"
She looked up at me with curious eyes, taking in my form. “Do you have an appointment, miss?”
"I do, of a sort. I'm his new intern." I gave her a bright smile. She looked doubtful, and I really couldn't blame her. I felt the same. "It's a new thing," I added. "He might not have informed you."
"Let me call ahead - what did you say your last name was?"
"Hathaway," I said, somewhat uncomfortably. The name was emblazoned in golden letters on the wall behind her desk. "Ada Hathaway."
She put the phone back down. "I'm sorry, Miss Hathaway. Of course. Please take this temporary access card, which will allow you to pass through the gates and get to the relevant floors. Mr. Wood’s offices and staff are on the twelfth floor. Just this way. We'll make sure you get a permanent access card later today if you come by security and administration."
“I’ll do that, thank you.”
She gave me a small nod and an awkward bow, which only made me more uncomfortable.
I straightened my skirt in the elevator. My stomach was in knots, nerves chasing one another. I hadn’t actually expected to be nervous about this - I wasn’t here to take it seriously - but there was something unsettling in walking into a place where everyone knows about you. And likely, most of what they knew was entirely uncomplimentary. And possibly quite untrue.
“Hello dear!” Linda was up and out of her chair before I exited the elevator completely. Her hair had far more grey in it than it did last I saw her, which must have been-. Ah, of course. At Max’s funeral.
"Hi," I said and returned her hug.
“It’s been a long time, sweetheart.”
“It has. Is everything alright with you?”
“Yes. Benny has retired now, and he’s begging me to do the same. But I could never see myself leaving this place.”
I smiled at her. She was as instrumental to this place as the very roof above it. "Of course not. Hathaway's would likely collapse if you did."
“How are you? With everything?”
I gave her a measured nod and the slight half-shrug I had perfected over the many questions from well-wishers and gossips. “Getting better. One step at a time, as they say.”
Linda gave a nod and clasped me on the shoulder. “Yes, that is-“
"Ladies." Grant's voice cut through the warm atmosphere in the hallway, his gaze snagging at the half-hug Linda still had me in. "If you're quite done, I have need of you in my office, Miss Hathaway. Let's discuss the terms of your internship."
I smiled apologetically to Linda. “The boss calls.”
She winked at me, and returned to her desk as I followed
Grant into his office. Grant was a tall, stiff figure before me, clad in an expensive navy suit. It had to be years since I'd last seen him in these rooms.
He looked at home in the office, re-decorated from when it had once been my fathers. A new Persian carpet stretched out over a stone floor and a new oak desk sat in front of tall windows.
Grant took a seat and gazed at me with unflinching eyes. I looked back at him with resolve. There was no way I was going to show him that he could intimidate me.
"Let's not beat around the bush. I'm guessing your father convinced you to take this internship."
I flashed a wide smile. “Why, you don’t think I’m here to enjoy your sunny company?”
Grant raised an eyebrow, and I hated him for being able to do that and look handsome while doing so. “Shall we pretend that you actually have an interest in this company?”
"It's in my blood," I replied, cocking my head to the side. And it would have passed on to Max someday, perhaps, seeing as he actually enjoyed it. But here was Grant, older and looking decidedly at home in this office. Alive. “Why would you assume I don’t care?”
“I read the papers, too. Working here will be quite a change of pace from your normal pastimes.”
“Maybe having me here will give the firm some star power.”
"It has enough on its own," he answered curtly. "You are to be here at eight every morning. You'll participate in the daily brief of events the executive staff runs through. This branch handles the highly delicate items, connections with our most trusted clients, and navigates relations between the different departments. Everyone reports back here. Now, for your first day, I want you to write two-hundred-word reports on every department of Hathaway's and what they specialize in."
“You want me to spend the whole day doing that?”
Grant narrowed his eyes at me, looking infuriatingly superior. “Do you think you’re capable of doing that?”
“Yes.” I thought I would be done long before the end of the day, but that was another matter.
“Linda will handle all of the practicalities.”
“What will be my responsibilities while I’m here?”
Grant gave a small, dismissive wave. “I’ll see if I can figure out something. We’ll give it some time.”
I felt the polite, edged smile freeze on my face. Of course he thought I could do little. Well, perhaps part one of operation annoy Grant would be to prove him wrong. He was like cardboard or steel, stiff and unyielding, a man entirely devoid of sentimental emotions. Max and I had never understood why father hired him. Or perhaps we had understood it too well - they were entirely alike.
I paused by the door and looked back at him. He cut a stark figure behind the wide desk. Grant had always been tall and lanky, but somewhere in the last couple of years, he had filled out. He must be past thirty now and it showed in the broad sweep of shoulders and strong neck.
"Anything else you need, boss?"
I saw that he picked up on the sardonic lilt I spun on the word boss. “No,” he said. “Linda will show you to your desk and other administrative details. I’ll check in with you at the end of the day, to see how far you’ve gotten on the overviews.”
I shut the door harder than necessary behind me. What a throwaway, imbecilic task. He'd never use the information I compiled in any way. It was just a test.
Linda showed me to my desk, sitting in an open cubicle together with four others.
"These make up the rest of the executive staff, assisting Mr. Wood and this division."
“I’m Adam,” a man said and shook my hand. He looked only a little bit older than me, with sandy hair.
“Hi Ada! I’m Sarah.” I smiled at her exuberance. I’d expected some hesitation or dislike, but they seemed like really nice people.
"That's Michaela's spot. She's not here at the moment but will be returning in the afternoon, so you'll meet her then. She's in charge of communication amongst the different divisions. Come, let's get you all cleared with security."
That alone took nearly an hour. Hathaway’s had extensive vaults under the building and 24/7 security guards due to the amount of high-value items stored here at all times, passing through on their way to auction and new owners.
My keycard was encoded and chipped with my photo on it, and I had to memorize an eight-digit code to accompany it.
"Has Mr. Wood given you a task for today?" Linda asked me when I finally returned to my desk.
I nodded. “He has, though it’s not very challenging.”
“Not for you, of course, dear,” Linda smiled. “Glad to see you’re all set.”
I spun around in my office chair and took a deep breath. This was it, then. I was actually here, at Hathaway’s, to work. The whole thing felt entirely surreal.
“What’s your task for today?” Sarah asked me. I’d since learned that she was in charge of client relations for the executive branch.
“I’m writing one-page overviews of each and every division in the company.”
“Oh. What, why for?” Adam asked.
“For Grant,” I replied dryly.
They exchanged glances. “Well, I’m sure it’s important then,” Adam said carefully.
“I’m fairly sure it’s not. But I’ll make sure it’s done perfectly.”
It was just after 3 PM when I knocked on Grant's door. He'd just returned from a long lunch with a client, and I'd found myself sitting at my desk, straining to see when he returned to his office. It was a habit I'd have to kick - I would not spend these months trying to see more of him than I had to.
“Yes?”
He was standing by one of the long bookshelves that covered the far right wall of his office.
“How was lunch?” I asked. “Did you enjoy being wined and dined?”
“I think you’ll find that we’re the ones who wine and dine the clients. What do you need, Ada?”
I put the thick manila folder on his desk. It hit with a satisfying thud. “I’ve finished with my little assignment.”
His eyes lit up - anticipation. Grant crossed the room in quick strides and grabbed my papers, flipping through them. A frown marked his forehead when he reached the end. Disappointment. He’d wanted me to fail, then. Expected it even.
Miserable man.
“Who assisted you?”
“Nobody. I prepared it myself.”
“Hathaway’s has thirty-eight divisions. The amount of research this should have taken you-“
“My father worked here for forty-nine years, Grant.” I interrupted. “My grandfather spent thirty years building this auction house before that. I’d have to be deaf not to know something about it.”
He looked at me through narrowed eyes, a hand still holding the folder.
I took a step closer. “So now that you have this super important task completed, what are you going to do with the written overviews?”
“It was a task set for your benefit. I have no use for these.”
I took another step closer until I could see the hazel flecks in his eyes. "You really know how to make a woman feel valued, don't you?"
There was a sharp knock on the door. “Sir? I have the information you asked for.”
Grant dragged his gaze away from mine with an irritated huff. “Yes?”
A woman with a brown ponytail and heavy eyeliner stepped inside. She stopped in her tracks when she saw us.
“Ada, meet Michaela. Michaela, meet Ada,” Grant declared.
“A pleasure,” I added. Michaela had regained her composure and now gazed at me with barely disguised distaste. I guessed not everyone in the executive branch had been okay with my sudden addition as an intern.
“Here, sir. The information you wanted. I’d particularly take a look at page twenty-five, where I’ve highlighted-“
“Yes, thank you, Michaela. Good work.”
She turned and left, throwing us one last glance before shutting the door behind us.
“Frosty,” I remarked.
“Nothing. Why do you want me to do now?” I took a seat on the edge of his desk as I asked it, doing my very best to look irreverent. It was bad enough that he knew I had been forced, like an unruly, adolescent teen into being here. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being a bad intern, too.
His composure didn’t falter, even if he did glance meaningfully at my seated nature.
“I have things to do. I want you to assist Sarah and Adam with client relations. They’ll be able to show you the ropes.”
“Alright,” I said. I assumed I’d passed the test, then.
4
Grant
It was only day one, but it was becoming crystal clear that these three months would likely be the most unproductive I had ever had.
Her smirk when she had waltzed in with the finished reports irked me. I’d have to ask Linda later if Ada has actually done them by herself.
A lamp on my answering machine blinked; someone must have called while I was out. I picked it up to listen, only to put it down with a groan a minute later. Victoria wanted to go upstate the coming weekend and asked me to accompany her. I’d have to call her back and give her the unsatisfying news that I wanted to end things between us.
I never let things progress to real relationships. And I’d been clear from the start what I was expecting and willing to give. Letting someone in meant expectations and having to talk about things like feelings and the past and pain, and that was a door I had shut at age fifteen and learned to keep locked ever since.
It wasn’t like Victoria would mind. She mostly just enjoyed being on my arm at some of the events I had to go to for business, and I had enjoyed bringing her. But there was nothing more to be done for that.
I opened the stack of documents Michaela had brought and began to read. A new client wanted to list with us - he was considering selling nearly the entirety of his collection of classical artifacts.
All that was left was convincing him.
Look But Don't Touch: Enemies to Lovers Page 2
