Page 37 of Damaged

“Hey,” she says and takes out an earbud.

“I said your car was coming at 8:30.”

“I know. I get nervous about missing things.”

It would be foolish to make her drive separate now. “You can just come with me.” I motion for her to follow with a tilt of my head.

“Oh.” She stands and grabs both roller bags like they’re dogs on leashes and steps out onto the sidewalk.

Our breath plumes. The smell of exhaust is sharp in the cold morning air. Her bags are heavy, and I help my older driver, Simon, load the trunk.

This apartment doesn’t have a full-time doorman, which I am a fan of. The more privacy the better. When the trunk closes, Sophia and I sit in the back seat.

The partition is up. I wish it wasn’t, but I can’t bring myself to lean forward and lower it for no reason. But with it raised, this space is intimate.

I pull out my phone and scroll mindlessly. After a few blocks, Sophia looks at me with her eyebrows arched.

“Are we going straight to the airport?”

“Yes.”

“Oh… Then why were we going to take separate cars?”

I don’t have an answer for this on the tip of my tongue, and before I can speak, Sophia continues.

“Are you avoiding me, James? Because we’re going on a trip together. I don’t know how possible that’s going to be.”

“I’m not avoiding you. I think it’s better if we have our separate space.”

“That’s a roundabout way to say you’re avoiding me. Is that the kind of thing they teach you in business school?”

“I wouldn’t know. I dropped out my final semester.”

“But youwereat Dartmouth’s School of Management before that, right?”

I’m flummoxed. I don’t usually have to stay sharp around subordinates. I can let my guard down because no onechallenges me anymore. And sure as hell no one teases me. Is that what she’s doing? I can hardly believe this.

“Look, if we’re going to be working closely together, there’s going to be a set of rules. Personal rules.”

“Like what?”

I meet Sophia’s soft brown eyes. Are they teasing me, or am I seeing what I want? “Like no cute teasing.”

“Fine, then you can’t call me snowflake.”

My muscles clench when she says this. It’s an accusation. She’s saying that she hasn’t been the only one beingcute. She’s right. My behavior around Sophia is adolescent. But it’s those eyes. Those soft lips I want to feed on. The flush in her cheeks.

I want to blame the two mugs of black coffee I had with breakfast on my fluttering pulse right now, but really, it’s her two brown eyes.

“Sure. First names only.”

“Great.” Sophia moves a strand of hair behind her ear. I can tell she’s still annoyed that I fired her. We haven’t discussed that. How cold it was. How impersonal. “Anything else?” she asks.

This would be a chance for me to change gears. To tell her we’re partners for the time being and to put the past behind us. But I keep the word partners from my mouth. “This is a business relationship. Our discussions should be that way, too.”

“Right.” Sophia nods. “I see the Dow is set to open up two-hundred points this morning.”

“That. That right there. Cut it out.”

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