Page 39 of Sinful Beauty

Me: He works here. That’s why nothing will come of it.

Kehlani: NO. Who?!

Me: It doesn’t matter.

Kehlani: You lying liar who lies. You NEVER cross the work line. Who is it?

Me: He’s an executive.

Kehlani: Please tell me it’s not Peltz. Anyone but the Putz. I will vomit.

I snort and the woman stirring her coffee gives me an odd look.

Me: Obvs not him. I’ll try to snag a photo 4 you.

Besides, it would be nice to have a photo to remember him by.

Kehlani: Where’s he from?

Kehlani and I hung out with the other expats. For years, we had a great group of friends, but then we hit that six and seven-year mark and one by one, our friend group migrated. I’m the last man standing, so to speak.

Me: Here.

Literally here. His family founded Lumina.

Kehlani: He’s Swiss?

I get her consternation. Our Swiss colleagues are cordial, but for whatever reason, after hour connections mostly split along lines of Swiss and non-Swiss.

Me: There’s nothing long term here. But it has been fun. Tell me about your neighbor.

Kehlani: He’s in banking. A couple of years younger. I’ll keep u updated. Why don’t you see any potential?

Me: Two different worlds.

Kehlani: ??? Because he’s Swiss?

That didn’t actually cross my mind. Besides, Tristan strikes me as more Brit than Swiss.

Me: He’s loaded.

Kehlani: Go for that girl!

I can almost hear her saying it with cheery gusto.

Me: Insert eye roll.

Me: Love you. Gotta run. Night. Night.

I turn off the phone and head up to the seventh floor. The cubicles I pass along the way are mostly empty, although there are one or two diligent workers tapping away behind computer lights.

The door to Tristan’s office is open, and my heart rate picks up with expectation. But his chair is empty, and the monitor is dark.

Maybe he left earlier and left the door open so no one would know what time he left. I could see that. But, in truth, I suspect he bends over backwards to let everyone know he plays by a different set of rules. He shows up to work late, messages during meetings, and treats Peltz like he’s a subordinate. And, at least until the org chart changes, that’s not the case.

But we all know Tristan will rise within the company. He’s the founder’s great grandson. His climb to the executive team is assured.

I print out Mr. Peltz’s schedule tomorrow and carry it to his office.

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