Page 40 of Tangled Ambition

Taylor

I was normally the first person into the office, after Sandy, but this morning, I lagged behind. Not because I was still a little tired or recovering, but because I was afraid to face Dean.

At some point in the middle of Friday night, I’d fallen asleep with Dean still in my bed. When I had woken up, it was a little after seven in the morning, and the left side of my bed was cold. The only evidence he had been there at all was the indentation in my “flat” pillow and the texts on my phone.

Some Asshole: Your sister came home around 3, or at least I hope it was your sister.

Some Asshole: Otherwise, sorry you were murdered in your sleep.

Some Asshole: I didn’t know if or what you were going to tell her, so I waited until I heard her bedroom door close and snuck out.

Some Asshole: Hope you feel better today.

I was too tired and still too embarrassed about falling apart in his presence to text him back, but now it was Monday, and I couldn’t avoid him.

I had to face him. Face the man whom I had ever only thought of as my adversary. Face the man whom I’d toldeverythingto.

Gritting my teeth, I opened the door to the office, well aware I was the last one in. With a wave to Sandy, I strode into the open work area, noting Seth at his desk, his head down over his keyboard. The intern, Ayaan, was here today too, at a tiny desk in the corner, and I offered him a tip of my chin as I hung up my coat and purse then sat down at my desk with a long exhale. I was saved from seeing Dean, for a few more minutes, at least.

As my computer booted up, I checked my planner for my meetings and appointments then read through my emails and made a to-do list for the day. Now that Reed had officially handed over his files, my days mostly consisted of sorting through all the information, finding out which clients needed immediate assistance and which simply needed me to check in with them.

I was on the phone when Dean strolled to his desk, a cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes stayed on mine for a second longer than normal—or what was normal previous to Friday—as he dropped down into his seat. Since I was behind him, I had a perfect view of how he held a pen in his right hand, idly spinning it between his fingers, a trick I’d never learned to master, but one that I now assumed was due to his dexterity from playing guitar. As I finally hung up with the client, Dean scratched at the back of his head, fingers scrubbing through the neatly trimmed hair above his shirt collar, and as if he knew I was gawking, he spun his chair, dragging his gaze to the side.

I dropped my chin, scribbling nonsense on a piece of paper like I was in the middle of something super important before slowly lifting my head back up to find his eyes on me, the cap of his pen between his teeth.

He tilted his head to the side, asking a nonverbal question with a brow raise.How are you?

I offered him a half smile.Okay.

He nodded and swung his chair back around.

So, for the first interaction since…everything, it wasn’t so bad. I got back to work—actual work, not pretend scribbling—for the next half hour until Dominic called me into his office. I sat down across from him, and we spent a few minutes chitchatting before he got down to business.

“I know Reed put you on the Mackenzie suit, but I just got off the phone with Chris Raber.”

“Chris Raber?” I’d spoken to him this morning. He was my first phone call, and I thought it went well, especially since I wasn’t fully present, with my attention lingering on the back of Dean’s head.

“Yeah, listen,” he started, readjusting his position in his chair, and I knew whatever he was about to tell me wasn’t going to be good. “Though I don’t agree with his decision, and I did try to talk him out of it, he wants someone else on the case.”

My jaw flapped open. “But…I…we’ve… Everything was fine. We’d emailed a few times, and I thought…”

Dominic rubbed his hand along his cheek. “I know. This isn’t your fault. This is an old boys’ club thing.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “Dom, you can’t do this.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to. I hate to, but we can’t lose them as a client.”

“This is bullshit.”

He nodded. “It is.”

“So, you agree, but you’re still not going to fight for me?”

“I did try to talk him out of it, but I think he assumed you were a man from your email signature.”

“That’s not my fault. I’m a woman, and I’m also a Novak.” I shot up from my chair, extending my arm toward the door, as if the sign for the office was right outside. “Doesn’t that mean anything to him?”

Dominic held my gaze. “This is nothing against you.”

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