Page 5 of If the Ring Fits

As the bell chimes with an annoyingly cheerful ding, I ask my escort if he’s coming all the way down with me. Showing more empathy than Brian did, he shakes his head. But he still asks for my access badge back.

I snap the cord off my neck with a yank and hand it to him. We share a small nod of perhaps commiseration for him and gratitude on my part for a basic display of humanity, and then I push the lobby button. The elevator doors close swiftly on life as I knew it.

As the floors tick down, the meager breakfast bagel I ate on the way to the doctor threatens to make a reappearance. By the time I reach the lobby, I’m gulping for air, praying I can hold it together until I’m outside.

No such luck. My stomach clamps painfully, and a cold sweat breaks out over my forehead. I make a mad dash acrossthe lobby for the restrooms, barging inside and abandoning my box of belongings outside a stall.

I don’t even have time to close the door before I’m hunched over the toilet, splattering the contents of my stomach into the bowl.

As I heave and gasp, tears streaming down my face, a hysterical laugh shakes me. Could this day get any worse? Then again, maybe puking my guts out in my former office building is the perfect metaphor for my life right now—a complete and undignified mess.

I flush to purge the awful smell, then sink back, dropping my butt on my heels. I’m not sure I’m done throwing up and I’m not ready for a packed subway ride home. Eventually, I’ll have to face the world. But for now, I allow myself a break. This one moment to fall apart.

Because starting tomorrow, I’ll have to be strong. For myself, and for this unexpected life growing inside me. I’ll have to make this work.

Even if I have no idea how. Fuck. I’m going to be sick again.

Still bent over the toilet, I hear the restroom door slam open, followed by hurried footsteps and the heavy thud of someone crashing into the stall next to mine.

Retching sounds erupt from the newcomer, and my stomach churns in sympathy, prompting another violent wave of nausea. I clutch the cool porcelain as my body convulses, wondering who the stranger in the stall next door is and what happened to them.

4

ADRIAN

“Should I tell Mr. Fulton you’re on your way?” Wendy asks.

I give a curt nod. “Yes.”

I’m not about to make the CEO wait. I drop my chopsticks and stand, brushing off my Armani suit. “Alert Sarah I’ll be unavailable. She has the floor until I return.”

Wendy scurries behind me as I head to the elevator bank. “Anything else, Mr. West?”

“No, thank you, Wendy.” I push the up button, my mind spinning. What could Dominic want? Our fund is up 28 per cent YTD, we just landed the Calloway account—but he might not know about that yet… I rack my brain but come up empty.

The doors slide open with a muted ding and I step inside, only to find myself face to face with a familiar head of perfectly coiffed blond hair. Preston Harris, the company’s CFO, looks up from his phone with a tight smile.

“Adrian,” he greets me smoothly. “Ah, you’ve been summoned, too?”

My brows furrow as the doors close and the elevator begins its ascent. “Dominic?”

Preston nods, pocketing his phone. “His assistant was very insistent. Wouldn’t say what it’s about, though.”

Curiosity piqued, I lean against the handrail, studying my colleague’s profile. After the CEO himself, we’re the top two executives at the firm. Why does he need to see both of us? Is he selling out? I hope the fuck not. I didn’t spend the last ten years building this company from the ground up to get tossed aside like yesterday’s news. I sacrificed too much for this job. Relationships. Time with family and friends. Vacations.Sleep.

The doors open onto the hushed expanse of the executive floor, which Dominic keeps all to himself—not because he needs an entire floor, but because he can. His assistant waves us in with a practiced smile. “He’s expecting you.”

I allow Preston to exit first, bringing up the rear with a confidence I don’t entirely feel.

In the corner office, Dominic rises from behind his massive desk, silver hair glinting under the recessed lighting. “Adrian, Preston, please get comfortable.” He gestures for us to take a seat.

I sink into one of the chairs, legs crossed, projecting an air of nonchalance I’m far from feeling. Preston perches ramrod straight beside me.

Dominic’s craggy features are unreadable. “I’ll cut to the chase, gentlemen. I’ve decided to retire at the end of the year. And one of you will be taking over.”

Every muscle in my body goes taut, my earlier fears evaporating. He’s not selling out; he’s announcing his successor. This is it. The opportunity of a lifetime. I keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m already envisioning myself in this corner office—bigger than mine and a few floors up. Preston may be good, but I’m better. I’ve got this in the bag.

“Over the next few months,” Dominic continues,prompting me to focus on the present and not on a distant fantasy, “I’ll be evaluating you both personally and professionally. We’ll be spending some time together outside the office, too. Starting with a weekend at my Hamptons estate two weeks from now. I expect you both to attend. Families are welcome.”

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