Mara had barely put the box of macaroons on the table before Himeko elbowed Amir out of the way, grabbing as many of the brightly-coloured treats as she could hold.
“Can you calm down? Jesus.”
Himeko stuffed an orange macaroon into her mouth. “Can you shut up?”
Amir scowled. Then, as though commanded to, the two of them turned and smiled at Mara. “Thanks for the biscuits, boss.”
“Yeah. And nice outfit.”
Mara looked down at her Alexander McQueen playsuit and gold Valentino pumps.
She tried to hide her discomfort at being in front of her staff by dressing the part. It didn’t help, but at least she was taller than usual.
She took a seat at the edge of the conference table and watched the fray. Some, like Ben and Sadie, hovered over the box like jewel collectors, only taking a single, carefully selected macaroon. Others, like Christopher and Himeko, grabbed at random and ate standing so they could go back for more. Pan raced around the room, clamoring to join the macaroon fray.
Tegan paused, a blue macaroon halfway to their mouth. “Hey, Ms Kennedy, are you sticking around ‘til Chase gets here?”
Mara had given up on asking her staff to call her by her first name, but ‘Ms Kennedy’ still made her wince. At least it was better than ‘boss.’
“I think so. We need to debrief about the Terrace Avenue sale and go over a few things.”
Tegan and Himeko exchanged looks.
“Does that mean…” Tegan asked delicately. “That we might possibly be…?”
Mara smiled. “Ordering in for lunch? Go ahead.”
Himeko turned on her colleagues. “You all remember the rules? All options in a hat and then we draw. And if anyone puts down KFC—even as a joke—I will slap them.”
Mara expected someone to tell Himeko to calm down again, but everyone stared back at her, nodding gravely.
“Maybe you guys could include a veto option?” she suggested. “Make it a little less stressful?”
Himeko whirled around. “Of course, boss! We totally can.”
Mara wished she hadn’t said anything, but before she could tell them to do whatever they liked, the conference room door swung open, and Chase strolled in. “Morning, vermin. Morning, Mara.”
His employees bolted for their chairs, leaving rainbow crumbs in their wake. Chase glared around at them. “Macaroons?”
Mara raised her hand. “I brought them.”
“Yes, I’d guessed that. My question was more along the lines of ‘why?’”
Himeko held up a slightly squashed green macaroon. “Chill out, boss. We saved you one.”
Chase’s nostrils flared. Ignoring Himeko, he turned to Mara. “You don’t need to get the team hyped on sugar every time you’re in, you know?”
Mara shrugged. “Sorry?”
Chase sighed, dropping into his seat at the head of the table. “All right, minions. Who wants to hear about the house?”
“Did you get the sale?” Himeko asked through the green macaroon.
“I did.”
A small cheer rang around the office.
Blaire raised her hand. “How much did it go for, Chase?” she asked shyly.
Chase had a rainbow flag and framed picture of Andy on his desk, but that didn’t matter. He was handsome and well-spoken, and a few of their female employees had a thing for him. Mara had had a thing for him when they’d first met—not sexual, but definitely romantic. She’d wanted him to like her. To trust her. She’d wanted to be his friend.
“Three point six million,” Chase told the room.
Amir whistled. “That’s not great.”
“No. Joseph Fleming from Scenic Views was bidding just to spite me.” Chase cast Mara a meaningful look. “They’re getting angrier. Every idiot there knew who I was. One of them heckled me. Next time I wouldn’t be surprised if things escalate.”
Everyone’s faces turned to her like sunflowers and Mara tried to smile reassuringly. “Next auction, we’ll send Amir.”
Amir looked slightly sick. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“You will be. You’ve got this.”
Chase was watching her, trying to get her to look at him. She kept her gaze on Amir. “So, we’ve got Terrace Avenue. What now?”
Chase drummed his fingers on the table. “We get the wheels turning. Sadie, call Kate McGrath and tell her to start drawing up plans for the plot. Himeko, get onto finance and ask them—”
“Hang on a second,” Tegan interrupted. “You’re speeding past our favourite bit. What was the auction like?”
“Yeah,” Christopher said. “How many rich people did you outbid? Did anyone cry? What was everyone wearing? We want details.”
There was a general chorus of agreement. Chase cast her a look and Mara raised her eyebrows. “Go on then.”
“Oh fine.” Chase leaned back in his chair. “It was a standard auction. Nibbles, men in ugly suits, white women named Jessica.”
The staff exchanged gleeful looks.
“The auctioneer, who was a buffoon even by real estate standards, was winding up all of the couples, and all the developers were in their little corners tittering together. Then the strangest thing happened…”
“What?” Himeko said, enraptured.
“So, the entire time, I was wondering who this huge guy flirting with the little waitress girl was. He had a shaved head and all these tattoos and a big, dirty moustache. I thought the Hells Angels must have needed a new clubhouse.”
Everyone laughed.
Mara watched Pan curling on the carpet, her fur shifting and shining under the fluorescent lights. She knew who Chase had seen at the Terrace Avenue action. She knew the way she sometimes knew a TV was going to show his face. Like the smell before rain.
“… the auctioneer said it was some famous footballer.”
“Who?” Tegan demanded.
“Oh, I don’t know. Derek-Something.”
Despite her premonition, Mara’s stomach clenched.
“Not Derek Hardiman?” Amir asked.
“That’s the one.”
Tegan gasped. “Holy shit, he’s a big deal.”
“I gathered that. But I outbid him, so he can fuck off.”
“What was he like?” Christopher demanded.
“Tall.”
“Come on! You have to have more than that?”
“I don’t know. Intense.”
Derek was intense. He always had been. The day he’d arrived in her English class, he’d scared her. He had the body of a full-grown man and an angel tattoo embedded in his neck. And because teachers were mean and relied on shy kids to contain the loud ones, Mrs Woodley seated them beside one another. Tiny, insignificant her beside huge, popular him. The guy who looked like he ate nails for breakfast.
She shivered and thankfully no one had noticed.
“You’re blind,” Ben said to Chase. “He’s everywhere! He did that Calvin Klein ad. And he did stuff for that food app that was all over Instagram.”
“I did see that,” Chase admitted. “I didn’t recognise him with a shirt on. And that hideous moustache.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the moustache,” Himeko shouted. “I would. In a second. Who else?”
“Inappropriate,” Chase snapped.
“I would,” Blaire whispered, blushing.
“I double would,” said Christopher.
Himeko thrust her fist in the air. “Chase, did you get his number? Can I have it?”
“No. And we need to pull this meeting into hand, ASAP.”
“Oh, come on! He’s my number one sports crush! Why would you deprive me of the chance to fuck my number one sports crush?”
A muscle in Mara’s thigh twitched.
“I heard Derek Hardiman’s actually pretty skeezy,” Amir said. “Like, he’s into prostitutes and stuff.”
Himeko frowned. “Who cares? Chase, give me the number. I want to save that guy some money.”
Mara’s thigh twitched again. She pressed her fist to it. This shouldn’t be so uncomfortable. He wasn’t hers and this was far from the first time she’d sat through conversations like this. Besides, who was she to judge? She fantasised over Derek more than all of his superfans combined.
“That’s enough,” Chase said. “No one is having anything to do with Mr Football. He’s a spoiled brat. He waited for me after the auction to ask if I’d sell the place to him because it was his dream home and blah, blah.”
Christopher gaped at him. “Seriously?”
“Why would I lie, Christopher?
“Oh my god!” Tegan said. “Did you say yes? I’d have said yes.”
Pan stared up at her and Mara drew infinite comfort from her sleepy brown eyes. Everything was fine, but she needed to leave. As Chase and Ben debated the pros and cons of Derek Hardiman owing them a favour, she collected her Chanel clutch from the chair beside her and stood. She’d promised the team lunch, but she could leave Himeko her card. She and Chase could go over the Terrace Avenue deal later when she’d had time to digest that he’d met her ex-boyfriend. And that her ex-boyfriend was looking to buy his ‘dream home.’
Maybe he was engaged. Maybe he was already married. That would be like Derek, to elope and show up in a TV interview with a wife and a two-year-old. She was almost at the door when Cassidy, the receptionist, blocked her path.
“Excuse me, Ms Kennedy, I need to ask Chase something.”
“What?” Chase demanded. “And, Mara, where do you think you’re going?”
Mara stepped back into the room. “Nowhere.”
“Good. How dare you attempt to French exit our meeting. Cassidy, what is it?”
The receptionist ducked her head. “There’s, um, someone here to see you.”
“I don’t have any appointments booked.”
“No, ah….” Cassidy’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s, um, Derek Hardiman.”
The room exploded.
“He heard me!” Himeko yelled. “He wants to have free sex with me!”
“Oh my god, I need to meet him,” Ben insisted. “My mum is the biggest Hammerheads fan! I can get her his autograph!”
Mara picked up Pan. She felt oddly distant from everyone around her, an astronaut drifting into space. Chase stood. “No one is meeting Derek Hardiman. Cassidy, tell Mr Hardiman to wait five minutes.”
She ducked away as Chase rounded on his staff. “All of you go to your desks, close your doors and do your jobs!”
“But, Chaaaaase!”
“If I see a single step toward reception, you will be fired. I mean it. This isn’t an entertainment production company.”
“But he came to us,” Christopher said.
“So? I’d like to remind you he’s here to undermine the organisation Mara built to keep people like him from hoarding real estate.”
Mara flinched at the sound of her name, but everyone’s eyes were glued to Chase.
“Go!” he snarled. “And if I hear anyone coming near the conference room, you will, in all seriousness, clean out your desk. Now leave.”
The staff got to their feet, filtering out of the room like children whose Wiggles concert had been canceled. Chase waited until they were gone before turning to her. “Jesus, what a day.”
“I know.” Her voice sounded unnaturally high. “What are you going to do about…?”
She couldn’t say his name.
Chase groaned. “Normally I’d tell him to get fucked, but if he’s a big deal, I suppose I should hear what he has to say. I’d love to know how he found our address. Probably from the waitress that was hitting on him.”
“I should go,” Mara said numbly.
Chase glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
No. She felt like she was being absorbed into a giant, pillowy marshmallow. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna go.”
Only she couldn’t. Derek was at reception, blocking the only exit. She chewed her lip. “Actually, can I wait in your office?”
“Of course. I’ll come get you once Mr Football’s gone. We can get lunch.”
Mara didn’t need to be told twice. She raced away with Pan in her arms, climbing the stairs two at time. She was scared to look around, sure in some childish way that Derek was following her.
She burst into Chase’s office, her heart racing. She put Pan down and she ran to the corner and curled up on the University of Washington jumper Chase kept for her.
Mara rubbed her mouth. She believed Chase had met Derek and that he’d made his way to the HFA offices, but she couldn’t quite piece together that he was here. The boy she’d once loved. The three-inch footballer running across the TV. She moved toward the door but couldn’t hear anything over the trap music Christopher played from his desk.
All she had to do to avoid Derek was stay in Chase’s office, but she was already creeping back downstairs, prepared to turn if any of the staff doors opened. Chase’s threat appeared to have worked though—they stayed closed as she snuck by. The conference room lay at the end of the hall. Mara could see Chase sitting in his usual spot at the head of the table. She couldn’t get much closer without being spotted. Her gaze fell to the huge macho fern beside the doorway. Himeko and Ben regularly hid in it, bursting out mid-meeting to the amusement of everyone but Chase. She shouldn’t do it, though. Not in her McQueen. Not when the stakes were so high. Yet she was already on her knees, crawling fervently toward the plant.
“We sell living facilities, at cost, to people who couldn’t afford them otherwise,” Chase was saying.
“Like landlords?”
Mara’s heart shimmered like a sunlit lake. That voice. That deep, lovely voice. She crawled faster. When the fern’s thick leaves were above her, she closed her eyes and shimmied up the stem like a snake. She expected Chase, Derek, anyone, everyone to see her. Instead, she opened her eyes and found she could see directly into the conference room.
And there he was.
She thought she’d done a good job recreating him in her mind. She hadn’t. The specifics were there—dark hair, dark eyes, dark tangles of tattoos. But she’d retained none of the weight of him. The grit. She’d forgotten the gleam in his black eyes, the ironic twist of his mouth, the few freckles dotting his cheeks that lent his face a strange, almost mocking, boyishness.
The day Derek sat beside her, she’d been terrified. She didn’t know him, but he seemed the type to accidentally elbow her side or make fun of her hair. She’d refused to look at him for half the lesson, convinced she was doing them both a favour.
Then Derek had bent his dark head. “Hey. You’re not scared of me, are you?”
Mara still remembered her shock, her certainty he was mocking her. She’d glanced across at him, expecting a vacant bully, and the whole world had shifted around her.
She felt it, and she’d known he felt it too—a bright and mutual attraction.
“How have I not seen you before?” he muttered, almost angrily.
“I don’t know,” she’d whispered. Although maybe she’d imagined saying something. Her insides had gathered up, squeezing so tight she could barely breathe.
I’m in love.
She’d known it as well as she knew her name. He’d seen her. And even though they were kids, and even though he was the most popular boy in school, and even though they had nothing in common, they were in love.
Mara moved closer to the glass, her breath fogging the pane. They had been in love, her and Derek. Desperately and deeply in love. When she was eighteen she’d thought maybe relationships were the same for everyone. Now she knew better.
“We’re the polar opposite of landlords,” Chase said. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the subtleties, but we’re not selling you the house.”
“Because you’re gonna tear it up and turn it into apartments?”
It was bizarre he was here. Like Dorothy sitting in the conference room, demanding to buy the house that killed the wicked witch of the west. She tracked the details of his hands and face. He looked good with a moustache. Like a man who stole kisses from helpless virgins tied to train tracks.
Derek Hardiman had kissed her like no one had kissed her. Touched her in ways that made her shake. He’d held her and talked to her. He’d loved her in a way that ruined her for anyone else. And there he was. Her big, brutal ex-boyfriend.
She never thought she’d see him again, but she didn’t want him to see her. She didn’t want to talk to him. The realisation surprised her with how true it was. All she wanted was to nourish herself on the sight of him. Which meant it really was over. She was going to be single for the rest of her life.
Derek pushed back his chair. “What are you using the land for?”
“That’s private.”
Her ex-lover’s lip curled the way it had whenever someone corrected his grammar. “We could make a deal? I could give you the money for the house. Help you find somewhere else?”
Chase stared at him so long Mara cringed on Derek’s behalf.
“HFA is not-for-profit. What kind of precedent would we be setting if we allowed ourselves to be bought out by a celebrity?”
Derek stared back at Chase. That was another thing she’d forgotten. The way he stared. Whenever teachers threatened him with the principal’s office, he’d stare and stare until they changed the subject.
Chase checked his watch, his go-to ‘we’re done here’ move. “If that’s all, Mr Hardiman, I’ll escort you out.”
“Hang on a second. So, you’re out there buying up all these properties and selling them back for cheap. Who’s paying for everything?”
Mara shrank back into the fern.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Anger vibrated under his cool tone.
“It’s relevant because I’d like to have a meeting with your boss. The big boss.”
Chase stood. “Let’s go.”
Derek got to his feet slowly. “I want to meet your boss.”
“Well, that’s bad luck. Mara doesn’t take meetings.”
Mara closed her eyes, willing herself to stay upright.
“Mara?” Derek’s voice was sharp. “Mara who?”
“Did I say Mara?” Chase said carelessly. “Never mind. It’s time for you to go.”
Mara forced her eyes open, squinting through the fronds. Derek was still squaring off against Chase. “Mara. Your boss’s name is Mara?”
He said her name as he always had, Mah-rahh, his lips parting twice to make the sounds. She remembered kissing him, feeling the stubble along his jaw. He’d kissed her all the time, all night if she let him. He was ravenous, more obsessed with touching her than any man she’d been with since.
“Goodbye,” Chase said. “I assume you can find your own way out?”
For a second, Derek stood there, and Mara was sure he knew. He was going to refuse to leave. Turn the whole office upside down looking for her. Then Derek turned on his heel and left. She shrank into the plant and a few seconds later, the front door slammed. She stayed still, her playsuit damp under her arms.
“Mara?”
She jolted, whacking her head on a frond. “Ow!”
Chase examined her like a scientist through a microscope. “Should I ask why you’re hiding in the plant, or is it better to ignore it?”
“I was watching you talk to… him.”
“Yes, I got that. Why?”
Mara had no idea what to say.
“Is he gone?” Himeko called from the hallway. “Can we come out, Daddy?”
“Fuck off,” Chase shouted over his shoulder.
“But I want to know what happened!”
“I sucked his cock on the conference table, Himeko. We’re getting married next week.”
There was a scream of laughter. Mara smiled. “I don’t believe you.”
“I might have exaggerated slightly.” Chase’s blue eyes were fixed on her. “How do you know Derek Hardiman?”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I suppose this is what I get for hiring someone as smart as you.”
“It is.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let me get out.”
Chase did the gentlemanly thing and looked away as Mara crawled out from under the macho fern. As she rose, he offered her a hand. “If he hurt you or did something horrible, we can call the police.”
He reminded Mara of Mrs Woodley. As she and Derek talked in low, dazed voices that first English class, Mrs Woodley had taken her aside and asked if she wanted to be moved somewhere else. The quiet girl was supposed to be a roadblock for the loudmouth jock. They weren’t supposed to like each other.
“It’s fine,” she told Chase, brushing herself down. “I mean it’s not fine. But it’s fine. I’ll make us a coffee?”
“Sure.”
Chase sat at the conference table as she went through the ritual of pouring milk and pressing buttons. When she turned, holding his black coffee, she felt almost ready to confess. “So, about Derek…”
“You fucked each other?”
Mara almost dropped the mug. “Chase!”
“Did you?”
“No! Well, not really.”
He raised a brow. “How does that work?”
Mara opened her mouth then closed it. She couldn’t possibly explain her and Derek’s teenage sex life. “We went out.”
“But you don’t date!”
“It was back in high school. He was my first boyfriend.” She handed Chase his coffee. “It was a lifetime ago.”
“Wow. You went out with Mr Football?”
His skeptical tone stung. It had been ten years, but apparently her inadequacy had gone nowhere. “Yeah. Our last year at school.”
Chase considered this. “You’re so out of his league.”
Mara laughed. “No way.”
“You’re a million times hotter than him. That moustache. Ugh.”
“He didn’t have a moustache in high school. And he was like… the guy.”
Chase sipped his coffee, watching her closely. “Do you want to talk about this? Because we don’t have to talk about this.”
“I love you for asking, but there’s not much to tell. We were babies. And we don’t still talk or anything.”
“Did things end badly?”
“More like… weirdly.”
Chase smiled but didn’t press. He was wonderful that way. “Sorry I said your name to him. Makes sense why he perked up now.”
“That’s okay. Mara’s not so unusual. I’m glad he didn’t pursue it though.”
“Good. Case closed. Shall we head out for lunch?”
Mara winced. She’d been hoping to duck away and explore the cavern Derek had opened inside her. “Is there much to go through?”
“Buckets.”
“Like what?”
Chase shoved a hand through his caramel hair. “The legislation against us on The Minister for Housing’s desk.”
“That’s a rumour.”
“Smoke. Fire.”
“But HFA isn’t doing anything illegal!”
Chase snorted. “Like that matters. These assholes love the free market until it doesn’t work for them. Trust me, the developers are coming for us, and we need to…”
Mara tried to concentrate, but as Chase talked, she only saw Derek. His dark eyes, his dark voice. She hadn’t lied to Chase—things had ended weirdly. Although, in many ways they hadn’t ended at all.
“… it’s only a matter of time,” Chase concluded.
Mara nodded sympathetically. “I get it. Let’s go up to your office and—”
“Hi, hi,” Ben stuck his head inside the conference room. “We’ve decided we want Sakura Kaiten for lunch, Mara.”
“Great, write down what you want and—”
“Five-star sushi?” Chase interrupted. “For a staff lunch?”
“Mara says we can,” Ben snapped.
Chase turned to her in horror. “Let the vermin buy their own lunch!”
Mara smiled at Ben. “Sakura Kaiten sounds fine. Get out of here before Chase loses it.”
Ben scampered off, happy as a clam. Mara raised a hand to her friend. “Please don’t be mad, there are a million problems I can’t solve and this is a—”
“Solvable problem,” Chase finished. “I know. Except, what problem are we solving, exactly? The desire to snack on your dime?”
“I can make people’s lives better. I want to make people’s lives better.”
“I know but—”
“Sakura Kaiten for lunch. Come on, it’s good for the restaurant industry.”
“Fine.” His gaze darted to where Derek had sat. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about… that?”
“I’m fine. It’s over now. We don’t have to think about him anymore.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
And she was. She had to be.