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“So what happens now that you’re both back at work?” she asked.
“I don’t really know. I mean, I doubt we’ll be walking across the plaza holding hands. He doesn’t seem super concerned about keeping things quiet, though.” My mind flashed back to the way he’d taken me on my desk and a flush of heat washed through me.
“Are you dating, then?”
“We haven’t really tried to define anything yet.”
“Just go with it,” she suggested. “It’s about fucking time you let yourself be happy. Plus . . .” Her voice trailed off and she sounded thoughtful.
“Plus what?”
“You just crossed off number one. Time for number two on the Powerpuff Girls plan!”
I frowned, even though she couldn’t see it. “Don’t call it that.” There was something else on my mind. “Deel?”
“Uh oh. I can hear your wheels clicking around over there. What’s wrong?”
I stared out my new office window at Los Angeles reaching toward the blue Pacific and felt like a jerk for being unable to fully appreciate it. “I don’t know if I can cross this one off yet.”
“You got the job. Task complete.”
“But I didn’t do it myself.” I hated that the success I’d just found was somewhat tainted by the way it had been handed to me. “It only happened because of who I know. I mean, I basically got promoted as a reward for fucking the CEO.”
“Girl, why do we do this to ourselves?” Delia sounded exhausted suddenly, her voice lowering. “Why is it that when a woman gets something good, something she deserves, she has to qualify the thing? Why do we have to pull our success apart to make sure it’s valid?”
“I don’t know, but it still feels like it came about the wrong way, like I took some kind of shortcut.”
“You worked your ass off to get that job, Holl. I watched you do it. Just because Mr. Hale-iver stepped in at zero hour and gave you a final boost doesn’t make it any less genuine.” She took a breath. “I hate putting things this way, but sometimes I think we’d be better off if we could think about things more like a dude would. You got the promotion, the new office, and the hot guy in your bed. You win. End of story.”
I let her words slide across my brain, examining their content closely. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s just hard to accept that I didn’t do it myself.”
“You did do it yourself. And you know what else? People like to help each other. I know we don’t always believe that because of where we came from, but the older I get, the more I see it’s true. This is the way the world works—especially in business. You network and make connections—you never know when one of those connections will turn into a huge win, or when you’ll have a chance to help someone you’ve met. Don’t you dare let yourself denigrate your success just because you asked the right guy for help.”
I made a noncommittal sound, wishing my brain would believe as sincerely as Delia seemed to.
“Congratulations, Holland. I’m proud of you! This week we’ll celebrate your success.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling a little better about things. “See you at dinner.”
CHAPTER 15
Oliver
Being back at the office felt like coming home from a long trip, or waking from an extended dream. Everything was the same in many ways. But the company was in danger, and the tension could be felt in the words that didn’t get spoken, the things people didn’t ask. Those words would come—but everyone was walking softly around me at first, probably waiting to see if I’d bolt.
Rob avoided me for that first week I was back, finally coming by on Friday. “Slumming?” he asked, pushing through my office door and seating himself across from me. His face was tight, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “Just dropping through on your way to the liquor store, or are you planning to stay awhile?”
I fixed him with a glare, biting back the words that tumbled over each other to jump out at him. I wasn’t going to be that guy. Not anymore.
I could still remember the smell of Holland on my skin,the cling of her citrus scent reminding me that everything had changed. I had changed.
“I’m back,” I told Rob. “And I’m sorry I left you to handle things alone for so long. For too long.”
Rob widened his eyes and pressed his lips together in a mocking expression. I couldn’t blame him for being skeptical. He’d figure it out, though. Once I’d been here regularly, he’d start to trust me again, see that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“What do I need to know?” I asked him. I’d already sat down with Pamela, who turned out to be a fucking sponge, soaking up every bit of information that passed over any of the desks on the executive floor. She knew what had transpired at board meetings, who was on edge (Rob, mostly), and who was looking to leave (our corporate counsel, mostly, but I’d already handled that.) Things at Cody were not good, and it was my fault. I had a lot of work to do.
“Fuck, Ollie. This place is sinking. It might already be too late.”
