Page 143 of Take What You Want

Is this another one of Liam’s tricks? There’s no way Chester would be in on that with him. “Of course,” I say, trying to sound confident as my mind races. “Is there anything I should prepare?”

“No, that will be all. Thank you.” The line clicks and I pull my phone away in confusion.

I quickly get dressed and drive over to the office. The entire time I wonder why Chester would be here. Does he know that I’m planning to quit? Is he upset that I haven’t sent him a list of connection points like he wanted?

When I arrive, a person I don’t recognize greets me at the front desk and takes me back to a conference room that’s only half-painted and furnished.

An oval table sits in the center of the room with six chairs around it. Chester sits in one, while two other people I vaguely recognize sit at the others.

“Jane, thank you for coming in so quickly.” He stands and shakes my hand. “I asked a few of our HR partners to join us today.”

I try to hide the panic on my face. Why does HR have to be here? “Of course,” I say, voice slightly wavering. Chester points at one of the chairs and I sink into it.

“I would like to open the floor to you and give you a chance to speak.” Chester steeples his fingers beneath his chin. He waits expectantly.

I clear my throat, glancing around at the HR partners seated on the other side of the table. If I learned anything in school, it’s not to implicate myself. So with that in mind and not being sure what I’m here for, I shake my head. “No, sir.”

Chester sighs as if he expected my answer. He motions to one of the women and she slides a tablet across the table to me. I frown and pull it closer to get a better look.

I’m not sure what I’m looking at at first glance, but once I notice the shade of blond hair and the lavender, satin material of the dress in the photo, my heart drops.

Holy shit.

“These were published this morning.” Chester twirls his finger in the air, motioning for me to scroll. My hand shakes as I do so and take in the carousel of photos.

The first few are of me and Nikolai in an alley.The night at the club. You can’t see anything, but it’s obvious by the look on my face and the disappearance of his hand beneath my dress what’s happening. In another one, we’re kissing while he pins my hands to the wall.

“Oh my god,” I whisper. How did someone get these? My dress rides up my thigh in one so high that they put a blur box over me. Shame seeps in my bones.

The next photo is the recent. The work party in Boston. We’re standing outside, waiting for the valet. Nikolai has his arms wrapped around me and his chin is planted on my shoulder. My eyes are closed and I’m holding his hands against my chest. It’s asweet moment and if these weren't the front page of a gossip site, I’d find it cute.

But holy shit.

“If this were a discreet matter, we’d turn a blind eye. You know, like we did at the party,” he says pointedly.

I look up and he tries to look sympathetic, but I know he doesn’t actually care. This is just another headache for him. Just a problem for him to solve and write off.

“However, being entangled in a public scandal as the other woman to a high-profile relationship, it’s not the kind of representation we want as we expand this office. I’m sorry, Jane, but I have to let you go.”

If he expects me to cry, to beg, to ask for another chance, he’s wrong. His words fade into a dull, inaudible string of noise as papers are slid my way, likely containing details about my termination. But it barely even registers over the cloud of anguish at what this means.

Nikolai’s career.

His reputation.

My career.

My reputation.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

My brother.

39

NIKOLAI

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