Page 10 of My Secret Snowflake
Jazmine tilts her head at me, indicating I should leave.
“Same. Me too.” I follow Sebastian out of the canteen into the carpeted hallway.
He stops after we round the corner, but this time, I manage not to bump into him.
“Didn’t you forget something?” he asks, a twinkle lighting up his eyes.
I have my phone. “I don’t think so.”
“Didn’t you want a coffee?”
Great. Now I look like a complete idiot. “I’m awake now. Having scarred you for life.”
“I doubt you’ve scarred me for life. And anyway, the care afterwards was worth the burn.” He smiles mischievously at me.
And this is exactly why he’s off-limits. Look at how easy it was for him to make that sound flirtatious.
“Do you want my coffee?” he asks.
“I’m not going to take your coffee too.” I should ask him about Ernest. “I have a question for you.”
And then suddenly my boss’s boss Kevin enters the hallway. “Nice to see you have time for socializing, Murphy.”
“Maybe you can stop by later to discuss that legal question,” Sebastian says.
“Perfect,” I say and retreat down the hallway to my desk. Does he actually think I have a legal question for him? Or was he just trying to help me by making Kevin think I was discussing work? Still, the privacy of his office will be much better for what I want to discuss with him.
Chapter three
Sebastian
Iclosethedoorto my office and slump down in my chair. L’Etoile may close us down? The expectation when L’Etoile bought Dream was expansion—and it is the exact opposite? So that’s why Bob wanted me to get a handle on the financial numbers with Accounting these last two weeks.
Here I thought I’d be General Counsel of Dream in two years and that would finally impress my dad. Instead, an unemployment check may be in my stocking. Maybe I shouldn’t have left Capital to work at this start-up. I knew there were risks, but I didn’t think I’d be out of a job.
My phone rings.Dad. It’s like he can sense when I’m vulnerable. Now that he’s retiring, he’s obsessed with pressuring me to switch from law to finance and work at the private equity firm he built with Neville. It’s not enough that he finally succeeded in convincing my sister, Annabelle—though at least she was smart enough to carve out her own spot in London. I’ve warned her not to trust Neville’s son, Nathan. No matter what. Don’t be the gullible guy who believed Nathan when he was using Emil’s corporate credit card and said he’d accidentally grabbed the wrong card, that he’d pay it back and clear up any misunderstanding. He didn’t. Emil was almost fired. I’d found out just in time.
She understands, to some degree, why I don’t want to work with Nathan in New York. Only she thinks, after that experience, I won’t be duped again. But it’s still hard for me to believe what Nathan did. How did he change so much, from the kid I spent hours playing with around the office on weekends while our dads worked?
I swivel my chair around to look out my window at the people walking on the High Line and take a few seconds to regroup. It’s cold out today, so only a few people, bundled up, wander along the meandering pathway through the garden that now grows in what used to be an above-ground railroad track. A work of art usually dominates the scene, but the Friends of the High Line must be in the middle of changing the exhibit. I pick up the phone.
“Are you coming home on Friday night?” my dad asks.
“Yes,” I say. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” my dad says. “The doctor even said I was doing better. Pepper and I did a whole lap around the Central Park reservoir today. About two miles in total from our apartment. We only inspected every other tree for squirrels. She’d say hello, but she’s sleeping at my feet.”
“Maybe you should take a nap too,” I say.
“I very well might,” he says. “Before your mom gets home and puts me to work.”
I chuckle.
“Just talked to Astor. He still has an opening at his investment company, and he’d be willing to train you,” my dad says.
And with that, our conversation leaves neutral territory.
Has Dad heard that Dream is in trouble?
