“I’m sure it is awful and terrible, Lambchop,” I said into the phone. “But, my god, you look absolutely gorgeous in these photos.”
Kat scoffed.
“I’m looking at one now where Dan is giving off major smolder, too. The camera loves both of you.”
I couldn’t resist grabbing the tabloid this morning when I saw their picture under the headline, PHARMA HEIRESS TAKES CONTROL! It was surreal. And if the situation hadn’t been so serious, I’d be busting Dan’s balls 24/7.
In the couple of weeks since King’s attack, Kat and Dan’s life had gone completely batshit crazy. It had been discovered that her cousin Caleb had been acquiring the rights to drugs manufactured to treat rare diseases and marking their price up by 500% in some cases. He’d been defrauding shareholders, and even went so far as to kidnap and ransom Dan in a desperate attempt to fund his own company.
The media was rabid for the story—and any glimpse of the sexy power-couple at the heart of it.
“That could have been you,” Ken said to me once the story broke.
“See, I told you Dan was a hero and a saint. You should send him some macarons.”
“Maybe I will.” He nodded.
“Nah, better not do that,” I cautioned. “We don’t want Dan to know he was her second-choice husband.”
“Yeah.” Ken’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I remember how torn up over you she looked in her wedding video.”
McPretty was still a riot.
“He’s got plenty of smolder,” Kat agreed, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t marry you?” I teased.
“You would have made a fine husband, Steven,” she said matter-of-factly. Her pitch rose as she continued. “But I was calling to ask you for another big favor.”
“My seed? Done. I can’t wait to see little mini-mes running around your mansion.”
“Oh my God, no.” She laughed. “Not that.”
“I’m hurt! Offer rescinded.”
“I’m not after your seed, I’m after your brain.”
“I can’t put that in a cup for you, sugar.”
“But could you come work for me? For Caravel?”
Well…that was unexpected. I sat in stunned silence for a moment, my mouth agape.
“After the fraud, after the way Caleb has tanked production, I just don’t know who I can trust. I need you to be the head of finance. I know you have a boyfriend to think about—”
“Ken,” I spoke up. “His name is Ken.”
“Discuss it with him, and don’t worry about Quinn—he’s already given me the green light to offer you the position.”
My ears buzzed at this. Kat’s voice took on a faraway quality as the blood drained from my face. Quinn’s passing me on.
“…Don’t answer yet,” she continued. “Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?” I was silent until she said louder, “Steven?”
“I-I’ll think about it and get back to you,” I promised.
After we disconnected, I sat staring at my office walls. On one hand, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe he’d do it. But on the other…well, it was my fear made into reality. Hadn’t I worried this day was creeping up? Hadn’t I felt it coming?
After Quinn had come back from Boston the Monday after King attacked, he called Alex and I to the penthouse for a debriefing. Even though he’d just spent a few days embroiled in the kidnapping of his best friend, his mood seemed…normal. By normal, I meant terse and abrupt, but not angry.
By this point, I knew Ken had been the one to prompt Quinn to utilize protection against King, and I expected some sort of tongue-lashing from Quinn…but it never came.
Maybe instead of taking that as a good sign, I should have known then Quinn didn’t give a shit—didn’t think we had a relationship beyond Cipher spreadsheets.
The debriefing had been enlightening. Alex had continued investigating King after I left him that morning in the data center. What he’d found—by hacking my phone and then King’s phones—was that I was not the only man being tormented.
Once Alex discovered it, had proof to show Quinn, he’d involved him. When Ken had gone to Quinn…he’d already known. Ken’s talk with him did result in my mail from King being intercepted. When I thought communication had stopped, it was escalating, both in number and in vitriol and threat.
“We’ve encouraged these two men to come forward, press charges and present evidence. We’re going to make sure he goes away this time,” Quinn announced.
Many times over the years I’d felt lucky to be working for Quinn—but never more than at that moment.
Now? Now it looked like it was all coming to an end.
If I went to work for Caravel, I’d likely find satisfaction in taking the chaos there and setting it to rights. I’d have Kat—and probably Dan to some extent, so it wouldn’t be a complete tragedy.
But…Ken. Ken loved his position at BKC Memorial—loved life in Chicago. I knew I couldn’t take this job in Boston without his whole-hearted agreement to come with me. Neither one of us was going to be satisfied with a long-distance relationship.
If we moved—if I still had Ken and Dan and Kat and a challenging workload—I still wouldn’t have Cipher. Janie, Alex, Quinn. God, for all my griping, I loved working for the grump.
I stewed on this for a long time, staring out my office window at the Chicago skyline. I went through stages of grief in those moments, but when I got down and dirty into anger, I decided Quinn needed to hear some of this.
No one ever told Quinn Sullivan off, and it was high time someone did.
Might as well be me.
Screw it.
I marched out of my office and made a beeline to Quinn’s, garnering strange looks from a few of my co-workers. I rounded the corner and bypassed Betty’s desk without announcing myself. I heard her say, “Steven—” but I ignored her (I’d apologize later because Betty was an angel from heaven and didn’t deserve attitude from me or anyone else). I opened Quinn’s door to find him sliding his arms into his coat sleeves.
“Kat said you gave her your blessing to send me on to Boston.” Not a question, an accusation.
“Yes,” he replied stonily.
I let out a bitter huff. “Jesus, you are a cold bastard, aren’t you?”
It was barely perceptible, but his eyes widened a fraction with what looked to be…hurt? Surprise? Whatever the emotion, it was very quickly replaced by annoyance. I recognized it easily enough, since it had been his default these past months. I pressed on.
“Six years! After everything I’ve done and everything you’ve trusted me with, you’re just sending me along like it’s nothing!” I was yelling now, and vaguely aware that in my periphery Betty was closing the door for some added privacy. Like I said, angel.
“What was I supposed to do, Steven?” he responded—annoyingly, at a modulated volume. “Should I have made decisions for you? That would have gone over like a lead balloon,” he sneered.
He wasn’t completely wrong, but I was hurt and angry, not ready to make any concessions.
“You didn’t have any such qualms when it came to King. You seem to know what’s best for everybody, huh?”
Okay, I was an ungrateful dick for that comment, and I knew it. But, again, hurt and angry and not giving many shits.
“Oh, you want to talk about King? If there’s so much trust between us, why in the hell did I have to hear about your stalker from Alex? It seems to me that I trust you more than you trust me. I had to consider that maybe you’d rather go to Boston.”
Quinn’s words took the wind right out of my sails.
I hadn’t imagined he might feel slighted. I only worried about his anger and how his anger would affect me. I didn’t get the chance to tell Quinn about King—didn’t have to open myself up to that, but there was something else I needed to tell him. I valued him, cared about him, so I had to be honest.
“I owe you an apology,” I said solemnly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you months ago. I tried to hide it from you because I thought you’d lose respect for me. Thought you’d fire me for being reckless and stupid.”
Quinn stood still, his only motion, three, slow, deliberate blinks. This wasn’t a good sign.
After a moment he asked, “You thought my reaction to you being assaulted and stalked would be judgment and not concern?”
“Um…” Shit. My apology wasn’t making things better. Far from it. It looked like I was digging my own grave. But this was the way it had to be. Clean slate. Clean conscience. I owed it to Quinn. I owed it to myself. “When you say it like that, it sounds bad, but I truly didn’t want to upset you. Not when you were so worried about Janie and the baby.”
“Would you have advised Betty to keep the stalking under wraps if she were in your position?”
“What? No! That’s insane.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s…” I began but stopped once I saw the gotcha gleam in his eye. Because she’s a woman. He knew what I was going to say and had intentionally backed me into a corner.
I gave an exasperated sigh and said robotically, “Because she’s a woman.”
“Men get hurt too, Steven,” Quinn said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “It doesn’t mean they’re weak or that they deserve it. I take Nico’s safety seriously and I take your safety seriously.”
His voice lost some of its gentleness when he twisted his lips in a snide smile and said, “Just because you have the worst taste in men doesn’t mean you should have to endure abuse and torment.”
“Hey!” I clutched my chest, pretending to take offense, but his words put me at ease. “I found a good one in the end,” I added. “The best one.” Thinking of Ken brought a smile to my face.
Quinn shrugged. “If you say so. But if this ever happens again, you come to me,” he ordered, his voice authoritative. “Not Alex, not Dan. Me.”
“You…don’t want to force me out then?” I asked, my voice tinged with wary hope.
He sighed, and leaned forward, resting his palms on the shiny desktop. His posture indicated a weariness with the topic. “What Kat wants with you…the position in a company as big and profitable as Caravel…the money…” He paused and looked me dead in the eye. “You think you like flying around in Manuel? Just wait, Caravel will have bigger and better at your disposal.”
He said Manuel. An involuntary grin sprang up on my face, completely spoiling the seriousness of the conversation. He actually said Manuel.
“Yes, she needs help,” he continued, ignoring my smile. “But also, I can’t take an opportunity like this away from you, no matter how pissed it makes me.”
I jumped on it. “You’re pissed?” Tell me more, Boss Man.
“You’re goddamned right I’m pissed! What the hell am I supposed to do when you leave? Give your work to a junior accountant?” He spat the word with such venom and derision, I kind of felt sorry for our juniors.
“Janie’s not here, and Dan’s going to be in Boston.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “But it’s more than that.” He opened his eyes. “It’s more than the workload. I poached you because I saw in you someone I could rely on. Someone I could trust to help me take Cipher Systems where I wanted it to be.”
His next words—so un-Quinn-like—had to be the result of baby hormones. That was a thing, right? New dads getting hormonal? It had to be, because there was no other excuse for it—no other reason why Quinn would give me the exact words I needed to hear in that moment.
“Losing you would be a blow. Both personally and professionally.”