Part 1
Anne tugged at the chain of her necklace, her thumb tracing the contours of the little starfish. A nervous energy fluttered in her stomach as she reviewed her notes one last time. Not only had she not met with him since before the expo, this was her first conversation face-to-face with Charlie since their confrontation in the boardroom and Damien’s office—today’s meeting with Charlie was crucial. They would be discussing the results of the A/B campaign—the one that he had called Damien to complain about while away at the expo—but it was the chance for her to lay out the grand plan for the rebrand project, get his assistance with the budgeting, and then head into the final stages for their presentation to the board in just a few short weeks. She wanted him on her—their—side. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew was not going to be a remotely easy conversation.
Entering Charlie’s office, Anne greeted him with a polite smile, trying to ignore the tension that hung in the air. His expression was inscrutable as he gestured for her to take a seat across from him at the small table in his office.
“Good morning, Anne,” Charlie greeted her, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of wariness. “I trust you’re ready to finally bring me up to speed on this project you felt was necessary to go over my head for.”
“Morning, Charlie,” Anne replied, maintaining her professional demeanor despite the knot of apprehension tightening in her chest, despite Charlie’s passive aggressive greeting. “Yes, I’ve prepared some budget proposals and timelines that I believe align with the objectives.”
As Anne began to outline her ideas, there was no denying the heavy scrutiny emanating from Charlie’s gaze. His reactions were guarded, his responses measured as he listened to her talk. Despite her efforts to engage him and actively draw his perspective into the discussion, Anne sensed a growing divide between them, a subtle shift in Charlie’s demeanor that left her feeling unsettled.
With each passing minute, the atmosphere between them became increasingly strained, the weight of Charlie’s skepticism and criticism bearing a heavy burden down on Anne. Pressing on, she was determined to convey the importance and potential impact they could have on the company’s future. She wasn’t fooling herself, though. She knew it was an entirely uphill battle, and that became more and more clear the longer the meeting wore on. She had a nagging feeling that something was amiss. Charlie’s subtle cues and veiled remarks were undoubtedly laced with underlying hostility, a simmering resentment that threatened to derail any potential amicable collaboration on the rebrand.
She tried to maintain her composure, but growing unease gnawed at her confidence. She couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was hiding under Charlie’s veneer of professionalism, and what implications his behavior might have for her role as the project progressed not only into the final stages of the proposal, but beyond them if the project continued forward.
After laying out all of her ideas on the table, Anne awaited Charlie’s feedback with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. His expression remained sphinxlike as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him.
“Interesting proposals, Anne,” Charlie began, his tone deceptively casual. “However, I have reservations about the directions you’re suggesting.”
Despite mentally preparing herself for knowing it was going to play out in a similar fashion, Anne’s heart still sank as she braced herself for Charlie’s critique. She’d expected some resistance, but there was something about the hostility in his tone that still caught her off guard.
“Could you elaborate on your concerns?” Anne inquired, attempting to maintain her own professional demeanor despite the rising tide of anxiety within her.
Charlie’s lips curved into a sardonic smile as he leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “I’m not convinced that your ideas align with the company’s strategic vision,” he stated, his words laced with an implication that left Anne feeling blindsided. “To be expected for someone who hasn’t been here long.”
Her mind raced as she tried to process Charlie’s unexpected critique. She and her team had poured countless hours into crafting her proposals and refining the designs, meticulously aligning them so that they served the company’s goals and objectives. To hear him dismiss her ideas for moving forward so cavalierly was a sharp blow to her confidence.
“I assure you, Charlie, I’ve taken great care to ensure that my proposals are in line with the objectives, especially since my team has been here longer than I have and they know—
“That’s precisely part of the problem,” Charlie interrupted, his voice sour. “You’re relying on subordinates. You haven’t been here long enough to know what this company needs or doesn’t need.”
“You’re also relying on your subordinates to carry things out,” said Anne sharply, without pausing to think of how the remark would sound. “For example, I don’t know how to use Photoshop. That’s why there are designers at our disposal. We can’t be expected to know every single component of everything. That’s how this works, Charlie, and that’s why Damien gave us the okay—”
“Damien,” Charlie interrupted again, his voice serrated and cold, “isn’t here right now. And he shouldn’t have been involved at all.”
“I just need to work with you on finding the best way to theoretically allocate the marketing budget,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tightening in her chest.
Charlie’s expression remained unreadable as he leaned back in his chair, a calculating gleam in his brown eyes. “Be that as it may, Anne, I believe we need to explore other options before moving forward with any of the ideas you’ve presented today.”
“Damien and I made sure that—
“Your friend Damien sits up in his goddamn glass and ivory tower and does not have any idea how marketing actually works, and I’m beginning to doubt that you do too with this crock of horse shit you’ve given me today.” He tossed the stack of papers they had gone through onto the table with a thwack! He eyed her, his cold, appraising gaze making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “Damien should keep his hands to himself.”
He let the words hang there, and as they did Anne realized the implications of Charlie’s words. He had zero intention of ever supporting her proposals, despite her best efforts to persuade him otherwise. Anne realized that she could build a nearly perfect proverbial car to take them from point A to point B, but with Charlie at the wheel, he could steer that right into a ravine and jeopardize not only the rebrand, but her position within the company.
“Now let’s talk about this A/B campaign. Let’s hope this one doesn’t waste my time.”
After the meeting came to a close and she left Charlie’s office, the unease settled over her like a dark cloud. It left her mind swirling with confusion and apprehension, and his unmistakable hostility left her also feeling shaken and wanting to cry. She replayed the meeting again and again in her mind, searching for clues. Obviously, she had known he was still annoyed that he’d been left out of the initial stages of the rebrand, but there couldn’t be any way he was still mad at her about that, especially since she was trying to involve him. Was the man that petty? Had she done something else to offend him? She didn’t think it was something as simple as having overlooked a crucial detail in the proposal—Charlie would have been more than eager to point out a failure of hers, with an arctic tone no less.
But then again, maybe he was still mad at her. She’d only met with him a few times in the weeks before she’d bumped into Damien, and her first major act as his subordinate was to go straight to the top. Maybe that one action had soiled the chance for a good working relationship with the man. Maybe he was just a vindictive asshole.
Back at her desk, Anne tried to focus on her work, but she had been rattled by his subtle digs and pointed questions. She felt undermined and vulnerable. She covered her face with her hands, unnerved by the shift in his attitude that didn’t appear it was going anywhere. It was going to cast a shadow over everything she did going forward, and there was no way to raise the issue with Damien without facing even more blowback from Charlie. She let out a choked, nervous cry, surprised at how suddenly the tears elbowed their way to the front of her emotions.
There was a gentle knock at her door. Wearily, Anne looked up to see Evie and gestured for her to come inside. Anne did not want to do this, whatever ‘this’ was, or anything else today. She grabbed a tissue out of its box, dabbing at her eyes.
Evie slowly opened the door, pausing, as if second-guessing her choice to step inside.
“What’s up, Evie?”
Evie took a seat in the chair in front of Anne’s desk.
“Actually, I came to ask you the same question.”
There was a lot of kindness in Evie’s eyes, something that Anne’s world had a major deficit in that day.
“It looks like you’ve had a rough day. You’re normally pretty smiley when you come back from the upper floors.”
There was a hint of something in Evie’s voice, but Anne couldn’t quite place it.
“Different upper floor today,” Anne said weakly.
“Charlie?”
“Charlie.”
Evie nodded in shared understanding. “Your predecessor often came back from meetings with him looking more irritated than anything. But you… something is different about the way he interacts with you. You come back looking tired…” Evie gestured to the crumbled peach-colored tissue in the wastebasket. “...and sad. And defeated. And then there was that one day he dragged you out of here. Honestly, I thought security was gonna be here cleaning out your desk that day.”
“Heh. Wouldn’t be much for them to clean up.” Her eyes swept across the landscape of her desk, dressed up only with a small scented candle, a photo of her family, a bottle of hand lotion, and the photo of her, Damien, and Taneisha and her model from the fashion show that Anne had clipped from the newspaper.
“It has to do with the rebrand, doesn’t it?”
Anne nodded.
“If I had to guess, it’s because it wasn’t his idea and he wasn’t involved until Charlie cornered Ollie.”
Anne raised an eyebrow.
“That’s how Charlie found out about the rebrand, I think. Ollie told me the next day, the day after you had been dragged out. I don’t remember the details, but I do remember that it had to do with how Mr. Wilson knew you, and Ollie of course didn’t know, but somehow the rebrand came up and…”
Anne’s art director pantomimed Charlie’s head exploding, and her gaze lingered on the fashion show photo for a moment before returning to Anne’s face.
“The man clearly has a short fuse. For what it’s worth,” Evie said standing, “you’re a great boss and good at your job. And while whatever you did really pissed Charlie the fuck off, I’m kind of glad it did because if I’m being honest, it’s been a long time since any of us really liked this job; the rebrand gave us something to enjoy making. I’m just sorry you’re taking the brunt of his fury.”
Anne smiled. “You guys have done great work. Just a few more weeks left of limbo, and then we’ll know for sure.”
“And don’t be mad at Ollie. They were just doing their job—Charlie obviously pulled rank.”
“I know.”
Evie leaned against the door, crossing her arms across her breasts. “I’ve got a new book for your TBR.”
“Yeah?”
“Just finished one you’d like, I think. Right hand to the mob falls in love with the FBI agent trying to take them down.”
“Spicy?”
Evie considered. “If the smut were a pepper, it’d be habanero. It doesn’t overshadow the plot.”
“Text me the book cover.”
“You got it.” Evie pulled open the door, it whispered in a way that reminded her of the smooth way the doors on Damien’s car opened.
“And Evie?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Evie smiled. “You bet.”
Anne’s office phone began to ring, and without looking at it she answered, “Thanks for calling Hudson Gateway, this is Anne from Domestic Marketing speaking.”
She half expected a jovial “Hello Anne from Domestic Marketing, this is Damien from C-Suite” to greet her. Instead she was met with Charlie’s apathetic voice.
“Come up to my office, please.” His voice was devoid of any warmth.
She had a sinking feeling suddenly materialize in her stomach.
“Sure, I’ll finish up what I’m working on and—
“Now, Anne.”
She took a deep breath. “Of course, Charlie. I’ll be right up,” Anne replied, her tone measured and professional despite the sudden rise in anxiety.
Making her way to Charlie’s office, dread settled over her. Being asked to his office once already was stressful enough, but twice in one week? If it were anyone else, someone she hadn’t pissed off, no doubt she would feel significantly better. So what had she done in the past day or two that had also warranted an in-person meeting?
Entering Charlie’s office, Anne greeted him with a polite smile, though her nerves were taut with tension. He gestured for her to take a seat across from him, at his desk this time. His expression was as stoic as ever, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of smug satisfaction.
“Good to see you, Anne,” Charlie began, his tone clipped and businesslike as she pulled out a notepad and pen.
You don’t sound happy to see me.
“I have a new project for your team. Needs to be pushed out by Friday of the following week.”
Anne nodded, feeling her pulse quicken with frustration at Charlie’s directives. “If it’s possible to push it back another week, that would be very helpful and we would be able to dedicate more focused attention on this new project,” Anne interjected, her voice steady as she tried to convey the urgency of their existing commitments. “I want to remind you that we are working on the final pages of the rebrand proposal, and I have that keynote presentation out of town with Damien next week, that the team is also finishing up graphics for.”
Charlie’s expression remained impassive as he waved off her concerns with a dismissive gesture. “I’m well aware of your other obligations, Anne. But perhaps you should have considered how to optimize your time management before you took on projects that I didn’t authorize.”
Anne pursed her lips.
“This project takes precedence. It’s imperative that you and your team prioritize it above all else.”
“Can I have authorization for overtime?”
“No.”
Asshole.
“Okay,” she said with a rictus of impatience. Her jaw tightened at Charlie’s blatant disregard for the overwhelming workload they were already facing. She bit back the urge to argue, knowing it would only serve to escalate the tension between them further and that was the last thing she wanted right now.
“Understood, Charlie. We’ll do our best to meet the deadline,” Anne replied, her tone polite but tinged with resignation. She knew that there wasn’t much she could do to sway Charlie, but she was determined to handle the situation with professionalism and grace, no matter how frustrating it might be. “So what is it we’ll be taking on?”
Charlie outlined the details of the new project he was assigning. They would be advertising a new community solar program across three regions of New York that would be functioning in the spring, and trying to generate interest and potential customers. It was a monumental task. As he rattled off the specifics of the project—direct mailers, social media campaigns, landing page and form to sign up for email updates on the project, and billboards spanning the Tug Hill Plateau, Finger Lakes, and Western regions—Anne felt the weight of the impending deadline pressing down on her with more and more pressure. The sheer scope of the project made it clear that his intentions were far from supportive.
With a forced smile, Anne nodded along, masking the growing irritation and anxiety. She knew she couldn’t afford to show weakness in front of Charlie, especially since he seemed determined to undermine her efforts at every turn.
“Do you have copy, press releases, or anything I can give to the team?”
The President of Marketing slid a single-sided piece of paper across the desk to her. It was nearly barren, with the exception of some construction timelines, proposed launch dates, and some other internal memo-type information that was generally useless.
“Oh,” he seemed to remember, yanking the paper back from her and scribbling something on it, “if you go to this tab in your intranet portal, you can find a small description that might be useful. This is the password.”
He drew a dramatic circle around it, and then underlined it for good measure.
“That’s all,” Charlie concluded, turning back to whatever work he had on his computer.
“Actually, while I have you in front of me,” Anne added slowly, “if you could introduce me to someone on the international side who can help me translate some final materials for the rebrand, I’d really appreciate it.”
Without looking at her, Charlie said, “I’ll look into it. Thanks for coming by, Anne.”
As if I had a choice, she thought bitterly standing and heading back to her floor.
Anne rallied her troops, preceding her meeting with an apology and acknowledgement of how much hard work they’d put in over the past few months, and how she’d tried to push the deadline back. She knew that as a team they could strategize on the best way to tackle the new project and the remaining ones, and after a couple hours doing just that, they broke out into teams looking considerably more worn down and stressed than they did when they entered that conference room.
As the days passed and the team delved deeper into the new project and tried to finish up the old ones, it became increasingly apparent that Charlie’s unreasonable deadline was taking its toll. The constant pressure to deliver results within such a short timeframe left them scrambling to meet unrealistic expectations, resulting in rushed decisions and compromised quality. All the while, she was mindlessly running her lines for the presentation as she worked, and as she anxiously tried to secure the necessary contacts and materials from the International Marketing Department, which hit a dead end. Despite her persistent inquiries and reminders, Charlie remained evasive and unresponsive.
The stress continued to mount, and Anne found herself stretched thin, juggling the demands of the community solar project, the looming deadline for the rebrand proposal, and the keynote presentation and its convention fast approaching. The weight of the responsibilities was bearing down on her with relentless force. Defiant of Charlie, Anne said she was approving the team for overtime pay if they chose to, all except one of them who had prior engagements opted in to help lighten the load. She made a note to push for them to receive a nice bonus come Christmastime.
Anne had seldom even exchanged so much as a text with the big man upstairs—the one she actually liked—so when he rang her on her office phone to check in on her, she was met with an equal amount of nervous butterflies and relief. But as much as she wanted to spend her time lost in a conversation with Damien about everything and nothing, she couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Damien,” she said with a sigh and on the verge of tears from the stress, “but I just can’t come up and rehearse right now. I have so many things to do, all of which has to be done by the time we leave next week. The team is working very hard to get all of the infographics and slides down by the end of the week so I can review them. I’ll make time to come up to you early next week.”
“You’re worrying me,” expressed Damien. She could hear the earnesty in his voice.
“And my blood pressure would worry my doctor,” she grumbled in return. “Chat soon.”
Anne finally finished another draft of budget proposals, which she swiftly sent off to Charlie. A short while later, he’d replied to the email with, “I’m not thrilled with any of these still, but the third proposal will do. Why are you working on this instead of the community solar project?”
All she replied was a terse, “Both are getting done.”
As Anne sat at her desk, surrounded by a mountain of papers, she felt trapped in a hurricane of chaos. Each passing day seemed to bring a new wave of challenges, and she found herself struggling to keep her head above water. Each moment was different, torn between ones of steely determination and overwhelming doubt. Doubt in herself, doubt in her abilities, and doubt in her capacity to navigate the storm brewing around her. Charlie’s intentional stonewalling and project bombardment felt like a perpetual assault on her confidence, one that threatened to erode her. She hadn’t been here long enough to feel burnt out, and yet, that’s where she was heading.
Her relationships with her team, despite how supportive she was of them and how grateful she was for them during this time of extreme stress, began to fray some. Tensions ran high; the smallest of disagreements threatened to erupt into full-blown arguments. She found herself walking on eggshells, careful not to say or do anything that might exacerbate the already fragile situation. The relentless pace of her work left little time for rest or respite, and she teetered on the edge of exhaustion. Sleep became a precious commodity, and she lost even more of it to blowing off steam in the form of blowing Todd, and any other number of sexual positions she emptily found herself engaged in with him.
And then there was Damien, a beacon of stability in her professional life. He didn’t know what else she was working on, she hadn’t told him of Charlie’s dogpiling of projects, but Damien knew she was overwhelmed. Throughout the day, he’d send her little messages of encouragement that would buoy her spirits. His little texts of, “Checking in. Hope you’re drinking water.” would make her heart flutter, and it made him feel like he was a much-needed anchor in a storm.
On the Saturday before the conference, the weight and responsibilities swirling in her head, Anne found herself lying awake in the stillness of night, the glow of her phone casting a soft light across her face. Despite the exhaustion, sleep eluded her, her mind swirling countless tasks and the ever-present specter of Charlie’s hostility that lay ahead. But Damien… Damien was by far in first place in her racing mind, outpacing every other anxious thought without so much as a staggered step.
He had this way of knowing her, of knowing what she needed to be her best self. And she thought it was weird how that best self was also her most authentic self. She wasn’t compelled to dress a certain way or eat differently, as she’d experienced with other men she’d seen from time to time. She didn’t find herself expected to talk or behave in a different way. Maybe that was derived from this slow realization of feelings for the whole person instead of being dropped into a pot of over-boiling, frothing lust.
Damien accepted her flaws and embraced them while challenging her to do better, all without much judgment. He made her feel human, and vulnerable, and seen. And valued. He made her laugh, he made her nervous and giddy.
She knew that in time, he would also make her cry.
Fingers trembling slightly, Anne hesitated before typing out a message to Damien. It was late, a reasonable hour for business discussions left behind long ago, but the idea that had been gnawing at her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Underneath it all, she supposed there was a thrilling element of wanting him to know he was on her mind.
“Sorry for the late message. Couldn’t sleep, and had an idea for the presentation. What if we opened with a story about the power of collaboration? Highlight how our partnership has driven innovation and success at HG. They don’t have to know it’s not entirely accurate (yet) 😁. Just a thought, lmk.”
With a sigh of relief, Anne hit send, the weight of her thoughts momentarily lifted, and instead the weight began to sink her into sleep. Just as she put the phone down and rolled over, it buzzed.
Damien [1:24 AM]: Good idea. Now go to sleep. :)
Anne [1:24 AM]: You too, huh?
Damien [1:25 AM]: Go. The fuck. To sleep.
Was he thinking about her?
Certainly now he is. You did text him at 3am.
Anne did get sleep after Damien’s text, eventually, but it wasn’t because she had shared the idea with him and the burden of it was gone. It was because after she had shared the idea, he hadn’t left her mind. Not after Damien’s reply did her phone buzz again. She turned the screen back on with a squint, expecting to see a follow up message from Damien or even one of his occasional memes poking fun at her late text or insomnia. However, as if manifested by the smallest morsel of sex drive, the name that populated her screen was “Tinder Todd.”
“Hey sexy,” it read, “you awake? Wanna come over?”
She was. She didn’t really. But with a sigh, she did anyway.
Todd opened the door to greet her wearing a loose t-shirt and boxers, and he was kissing her before she had made it in the door. His strong tattooed arms explored her all the way into his bed, but even his strong arms failed to carry her across the finish line. And to his credit, Todd really tried, which made Anne feel even worse to fake an orgasm for him. He was reciprocal in his actions and attentive in the ways he indulged in her.
“Yes, that was fun,” she mused, laying next to him on his bed, the mutt curled at their feet. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and chest, and Todd’s fingers drew circles around her nipples slower and slower as she knew he was beginning to drift off.
It was the truth. He was fun and didn’t take sex too seriously. He was safe and soft and tentative, and perhaps that was part of the issue, she was finally beginning to realize. Todd was unsure of himself and unsure of what he wanted in the bedroom, and that ambivalence didn’t feed what she needed in bed.
While she was aware that so much of that compatibility in the bedroom came with trial and error, communication, and certainly intimacy as opposed to basic hedonism, she knew that her sexual disconnect with Todd was also visible on the surface. She needed someone to take control and be self-assured, to embrace the absolutely filthy aspects of sex, and still be able to pay attention to her wants and needs. She needed the sexual dynamic to work, to be balanced. She needed sexual chemistry to flourish, and even though they’d never explicitly talked about it, Anne had the growing suspicion that Todd had more submissive tendencies. She had even more suspicion that he was developing feelings for her. These intuitions had her thinking that he was uncomfortably trying to into the role of the dominant sexual partner she needed. But it was unnatural for him, a square being forced into a circle just slightly too small. She knew that this separation in sexual ethos wouldn’t culminate in an exciting, exploratory, and satisfying sex life in the long term.
Laying under Todd’s body, she wondered if Damien was the type of man who, as someone who took control of everything every day of his life, wanted to surrender control to a woman. She wondered if he enjoyed being submissive and being told what to do.
Moreso, she wondered if—no, hoped as if it were something within reach to her—he was as she wanted him to be—one to command her worship, all while he worshiped her own body. She hoped he was the kind of man who carried that every bit of authority and confidence through to every nook and cranny of his life, one who would take what he wanted from her with enthusiastic consent. She wondered if that same man, capable of imagined power in the bedroom and established power out of it, knew how to make fluffy pancakes and milky scrambled eggs.
Anne got up to get dressed, slipping her shirt over herself, leaving as braless as she had arrived.
“It’s so late,” Todd said, his voice slurred with drowsiness. “Sleep over.” He patted the vacant space beside him she had just occupied.
She shook her head. “Sorry, Todd, it’s not something I do.”
Having a sleepover involved feelings. It involved a name saved in a phone without using “Tinder” as a qualifier. Sleeping over required things she had chosen not to have the capacity for in a long time.
His blue eyes shone with weariness and a touch of sadness, his raven black hair a mess from sweat and sheets. With a defeated sigh, he muttered, “Fine, I’ll escort you to your car.”
Driving home, the night had the faintest touch of morning blue cresting the horizon, and it was just enough time from doorstep to doorstep for her to once again imagine an ache between her legs where she imagined a dominant Damien playing. She indulged, letting her sleep-deprived mind explore the possibilities of where those magnificent hands and arms of his would hold her. She could practically feel all the places his lips and tongue could trace on her body and send shivers racing up her spine, all while demanding her attention as he drew on her skin with his mouth.
Once home, she grabbed one of the toys from the drawer beside the bed, and let her body embrace every image her mind manufactured. It was when she pictured the sounds that he would make as he, too, finished, that she, with his name on her lips, had to bury her face in a pillow and finally scream out her own release, her inability to sleep evacuating with that same exhausted breath.
Later in the morning she felt marginally more rested. But despite her best efforts to compartmentalize her emotions, Anne couldn’t help but continuously feel the weight of Charlie’s disapproval crushing her. It was a constant reminder of her perceived shortcomings, of the imposter syndrome, a relentless voice whispering in her ear that she wasn’t good enough—a feeling she’d already been fighting since climbing onto Damien’s keynote train.
She refused to let Charlie’s negativity define her, and instead opted to focus on Damien’s belief in her. She kept drawing upon her resilience and determination to prove Charlie wrong. So on a Sunday, she went into the office to get as much done as she possibly could, both for the community solar project, laying out the budget and timeline for the proposed logo roll out, and rehearsing the presentation without Damien. At least until he appeared in her office doorway.
“Is everybody else late or are we just extra early?”
Anne jumped at the sound of Damien’s voice.
It only took a moment for her heart to stop racing because he scared her, but it continued racing because he sat in front of her. As he got comfortable, behind her eyes, the fantasies and imaginations played like a film reel.
He was wearing a flashy Rolex, khakis and a short sleeve polo—Gucci. His hair was styled slightly different, in more of a carefully swept back style than his usual combover. It was the most casual she’d ever seen him. The man didn’t have an outfit where he didn’t look absolutely scrumptious. She supposed money, and extremely good looks, could do that for you.
Anne, on the other hand, suddenly felt incredibly self conscious, wearing a pair of flip flops, cutoff shorts, and a baggy t-shirt from a past concert. Not that she wore much makeup on a normal day, but there wasn’t so much as the brushstroke for an eyeliner wing present on her face. Somehow, being dressed in nothing but a robe was less of an issue of self consciousness. All of those worries disappeared with the smile he gave her as he put himself across from her.
“Damien, hi, you startled me. How’d you know I was here?”
There was a gruff sound as he cleared his throat. “Well I was here to pick up a few things, and tie up some loose ends from the executive meeting earlier in the week. I saw your car parked in Charlie’s spot. Well, I assumed it was you. I knew it wasn’t his, and nobody else would be so brazen.” His tone was peculiar as his lips curled into a smile, leaning forward. “But I won’t tell, if you don’t tell.”
Anne returned the smile, but she knew it didn’t look convincing in the slightest.
He sat back. “So what is it you’re working on that has you so worked up that you’re texting me during the witching hours, and has brought you in all by your lonesome on a Sunday?” he asked, picking up the paper from her desk, the one that had Charlie’s incredibly vague descriptions of the community solar project. He studied it, an eyebrow raising. He flipped the paper over to see the blank backside.
“That,” she mustered. “That’s what I’m working on.”
“Hm,” was all he said in response, setting it back on the desk after scrutinizing it another minute. He was stoic as Anne continued to type, a long beat of comfortable silence passing between them. “Hey.”
Her eyes flicked to him but then went right back to her screen. “Yes?”
“Look at me,” he said gently, and she stopped typing.
Locking eyes with him, a flicker of last night’s fantasy passed through her.
“Are you okay?”
In that moment, when she saw the genuine kindness and caring in his eyes, she desperately wanted to cry. She wondered if he could see that sudden flood of emotion into her, but then realized he almost certainly could. She was fighting tears and gnawing on her lip, but she nodded yes anyway, feeling embarrassed at the sheen in her eyes.
“Should we have our ‘conversation?” he suggested with a smile. “Take a break from whatever task is stressing you out and make you stress out over another?”
She looked at him wearily. “Sure.”
Damien seemed to reluctantly let Anne alone after going through their scripted conversation and after a long, unscripted one—including a new story about how the two of them collaborated. When he did leave, she felt as if she had been slightly unburdened. The rehearsal had been easy, and did truly feel like a conversation, one where she was the expert in the room and he was there to support her. It felt normal, and natural.
“You’re ready,” he had said to her, standing from her desk and making his way to leave. “One less thing to worry about.” He’d winked at her. “Well, at least until the night before. I’ll see you at the airport, bright and early Wednesday morning. You can find me wearing my tackiest Hawaiian shirt.”
“If I walk into the airport and I see you wearing a Hawaiian shirt, I will turn around and walk right back out.”
“That’s offensive. I’m at my sexiest when I channel Jimmy Buffett.”
“Those things are mutually exclusive, but I’ll let you continue to indulge in your delusions.”
With a cheeky grin, he’d put on sunglasses and backed out of her office, leaving her with a smile, a real one this time, and butterflies in her stomach.