Page 51 of Snake

“You got it,” Isaac said.

“Everybody else in on cleanup,” Badger ordered. “Let’s get this shit straight and cleared out of our lives.”

It was going to be a very long night.

Chapter Twelve

Autumn was trapped in a living nightmare.

She sat in the first-class lounge in the Indianapolis airport, watching Chase pile snacks from the buffet onto a plate, and questioned every choice she’d ever made in her life that had brought her to this point. A three-day business trip to Signal Bend with her boss.

On paper, to an outsider, it probably wouldn’t seem unusual: a groundbreaking ceremony on the first project in a new initiative should draw some brass to the podium. And the person who’d driven the business should be there as well. Nothing unusual about it.

However, Chase was the brass in question, and Autumn had spent years managing him, keeping him on the correct side of her personal boundaries. It had been clear from the moment he’d announced his intention to join her that he was interested in finding a break in her fence.

He’d booked both their tickets—first class; she usually flew business. He’d insisted they share a car to the airport. When she told him that she preferred to wait in a concourse café rather than the Sky Lounge, because she liked the bustle of travelers, he’d laughed at her and grabbed her arm firmly, nearly dragging her to the lounge.

Thus far, he was only kicking at the boundary, not through it yet, but they were about to spend three nights in a small country inn. It was very clear that he expected them to be joined at the hip the whole time, and Autumn knew, she could physically feel it, like a shrinking of her skin: he was going to do something that upended her entire career.

Chase made his way to the end of the buffet and headed back. Autumn honed her attention on her laptop. She had two files up on her screen, the project timeline and the purchasing and costing spreadsheet, and she was combing through both to make sure they were completely synced.

“Do you ever stop working?” Chase asked as he plopped into the leather seat beside her, juggling his mountain of complimentary buffet food.

“As I’m working for you,” she replied without looking away from her screen, “I’d think you appreciate my attention to detail.”

“I do, obviously. But c’mon, kiddo.” He elbowed her arm gently. “Lighten up a little. Free food, free booze, a little vacation to the heartland, where they’re throwing us a party. You can bask in the victory.”

Swallowing an irritated breath, Autumn turned to her boss. “I don’t like it when you call me kid. Please don’t.”

She was five feet, two inches tall. A shockingly large percentage of the world—mostly male, but not exclusively—condescended to short women. Whether intentionally or unconsciously, they diminished her work, her experience, her expertise, as if she were a child. Often their voice even shifted to a higher register. To a degree, being underestimated gave her space to do what she wanted, and she tried to harvest that benefit from the situation. Even so, the disrespect burned. Autumn had always loved fashion, but she’d taken to wearing five-inch heels almost exclusively because they brought her closer to eye level with men. With that extra height, she was condescended to as a woman, but not as a girlchild. Not great, but better.

Chase, however, wasn’t fooled by a Louboutin. He’d been casually diminishing her since he’d started promoting her. She’d been baffled by that apparent paradox at first, until she realized he was trying to make sure she believed she owed her success to him.

He grinned. “I didn’t call you kid. I called you kiddo.” When she narrowed her gaze, he laughed and put up a surrendering hand. “Okay, okay. Apologies. But you really do need to lighten up.” He plucked a fat, crimson strawberry from Mt. Buffet. “Here, have a treat.”

He proceeded to hold the strawberry in front of her mouth. Like he wanted her to let him feed her. What the hell?

Autumn tipped her head away. “No, thanks. Not hungry.”

Chase’s expression went through a whole calisthenics routine before it settled into a frown. “Don’t make more of it than it is, kid.”

He hit that stupid word at the end of his sentence just hard enough to make it rhetorical.

Autumn returned a look as flat as she could make it. She was not in the mood to manage this man today. “No, thank you.”

With a great heave of dramatic breath, Chase popped the strawberry into his own mouth. He sat back in his chair and sulked.

Her brain spinning, seeking every possible option she had to get through this trip with her job and her personal boundaries intact, Autumn turned back to her work.

Eventually, Chase stopped making a show of his sulk. He opened his tablet, put AirPods in, and watched Succession until boarding was announced for their flight.

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~oOo~

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“How are we doing?” the flight attendant of their second flight asked with a practiced smile. “Can I bring you anything more?”

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