I swallow hard, so uncomfortable, but I find a solution. I scoot the chair backwards. Without wheels, it screeches on the floor, but I succeed in distancing myself from him.
Take that!
“I can keep you company while we wait,” he says in this sincere voice. I hesitate for a moment, actually wondering if he’s trying to be nice since I look uncomfortable or if this is just a gross pick-up line.
“That’s okay.” I avoid his eyes now and dig in my pocket for my phone. “I’d rather be alone.”
He leans forward to whisper, “There are some men here that don’t necessarily love the Calloway sisters. It’s better if I stay to keep you away from their shit, and they’d definitely give you some.” He tilts his head again and smiles a smug smile. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”
And then he tries to tap his foot to mine.
Nope. We’re not playing footsie. That’s not how my day is going. I have instructions. Connor Cobalt’s sleazy employee is not a part of my instructions. And I don’t want to play footsie with anyone but Loren Hale!
Rose would have his larynx ripped out by now.
My fingers whiten on the phone. “My parents never taught me those two words.” I never look at him as I text. “I’m a rich brat.”
I send Connor a simple text: I’m outside your office. Waiting for you.
I don’t add an SOS or help me. I don’t want to disturb his meeting.
“That’s funny,” he says flatly. “You sure you don’t want to wait in my office? It’s much more comfortable. I can find something you like.” His suggestive words make me sick.
I feel my face twist into a cringe.
“Come on. You won’t have to deal with all these stares.”
I take the bait and scan the room. A couple employees peek from their desks. Maybe they believe I’m seconds from grinding against this man. Maybe they anticipate the moment where I’ll let him lead me into a bathroom.
I wouldn’t.
I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not so consumed by a vice that I’d say yes and yes and never no. I have boundaries and rules, and here’s one of my biggest:
I will not cheat on Loren Hale.
“Lily.”
I jolt at that voice. His smooth tone sounds like heaven, and I spring to my feet, beyond ready to meet Connor. I approach him so fast and nearly run into his arms.
Realizing that would look terrible, I stop midway and raise my hand in a half-wave. “Hi.” I peek at his frosted walls, hoping he didn’t leave an important meeting because of my text.
I could’ve survived an hour on my own, even with Sleazebag prodding me for sex.
“I can wait until you’re finished with your meeting,” I add while Sleazebag slides off the desk to stand up.
Connor is blank-faced, so I’m surprised when he asks, “What meeting?”
What?
I frown. “Your walls are frosted. I thought that meant you were in a meeting.”
“I always turn on the privacy glass at the end of the day.” His gaze drifts to Sleazebag, and the man raises his brows accusingly at me. Like I made it all up.
“I told her you were available,” he says.
I gape. He can’t be serious? What an asshole.
“She wanted to talk to me a little before heading in,” he continues.
My mouth just keeps dropping. Fuck him. And not sexually! Just to be clear, there is nothing sexual about this. “That’s not true!” I shout out of frustration, and a hot flush rises up my neck.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. It’s not like we did anything.” His tone implies that the door is still open if I ever want to do “something” with him.
I hate how he just turned my red flush around on me. How he used it against me. I feel trapped in a corner, and I’m not even sure how I got pushed there in the first place. I’m not good at mental games unless it involves lying to people I love.
And that’s a horrible skill. I’m ashamed I have it at all.
Sleazebag is about to say a goodbye. I see it on the tip of his tongue and the way he shifts towards the hall.
“Martin,” Connor says first.
Let Sleazebag leave. The longer we endure him, the more my stomach cramps.
“If this is about the Baylor account—”
“Pack your office and be out by tomorrow.”
My jaw unhinges.
Connor said that without blinking, without flinching, without his voice even elevating. He could’ve just said your hair is salt and pepper and it would’ve all been the same to him.
Sleazebag pales. “What?”
“I believed you were intelligent, but if you need me to reiterate, then you’ve just proved you’re too incompetent to work here.”
Sleazebag is in shock.
“You’re fired,” Connor says. “Do you understand me now?”
He glowers. “Because of her?”
“Because you thought you could lie to me. Because you have a clear problem for taking responsibility for your own actions. Because you preyed on someone. Any three, but mostly the third, are grounds for termination. I could fire you for much less, so take your things and leave my building. If I see your face anywhere near Cobalt Inc. again, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. Now you can stop wasting my time. I have a party to attend.”
I choke on air at that last line. The word “surprise” is in my instructions. I’m more surprised than Connor at this point. Surprised a Cobalt Inc. employee subtly prodded me to hook up with him. Surprised Connor just fired him. Surprised that Connor isn’t surprised.
Sleazebag looks mortified, irate, and flabbergasted, all at once. He trots towards his desk with a defeated slouch, and Connor hardly pays him more attention.
He motions to me, and I follow him to the elevators.
I have to sort of sprint to catch up to his lengthy stride. “People are staring,” I whisper.
“People always stare at me.”
Of course they do.
Once inside the elevator, I ask, “Was he important?”
Connor types hurriedly on his phone like he’s fixing a problem. “He wasn’t in an executive position, but he was a project manager. He’ll need to be replaced by tomorrow.”
Guilt creeps up my throat. “You don’t have to fire him because of me.”
“Did you not hear me? It wasn’t just because of you.”
“But he’d still have a job if I didn’t show up.” Why am I defending Sleazebag? I know what Dr. Banning would say. My therapist would tell me that my guilt stems from my own wealth. I feel like I have no right to cut other people off at the knees, even if those people try to hurt me. I’ve been given too much to take away from other people. I’m allowed to be hurt.
I hear Dr. Banning’s clear and distinct words: he does not have the authority to hurt you. No one does.
“Maybe not.” Connor rolls up the sleeves to his button-down. It’s a little warm in the elevator. “It was only a matter of time before he showed me who he really was. Martin believed we were friends, and so he thought he was invulnerable. When people are comfortable, they act more like themselves, which I foster.” His blue eyes flit to mine. “Be yourself, and if your true self puts my company, my employees, and my friends at risk, I won’t think twice about removing you from my circle.”
I would applaud, but I’m too in awe. After all these years, Connor still impresses me. I can’t believe he’s my friend and that he’s married to my sister. He seems otherworldly.
He studies my expression before saying, “If you’re going to call me Superman again, don’t list his mythical powers.”
Like flying. I try hard not call him anything “otherworldly” but I end up blurting out, “Then you’re Batman!”
If he’s annoyed, I can’t tell.
“Batman doesn’t have unnatural powers,” I start to explain.
“I know who Batman is.”
“Because you’re Batman.”
He
arches a brow.
Batman would do that. I smile at the thought and remember Connor dressing as the DC character during our Comic-Con outing six years ago.
The elevator doors slide open, and I just now realize that we’re not headed to the lobby. We’ve stopped on the third floor. “Wait…”
Connor is already stepping out, not slowing for me. He doesn’t take commands from anyone but himself…and maybe Rose, but he won’t admit that the same way she wouldn’t admit she listens to him.
I hurriedly follow his lengthy stride again, squeezing between the elevator doors before they close.
The third floor looks less like an executive level. Flooded with copy machines and gray cubicles, everyone is crammed tight. More people loiter around than the people upstairs, but as soon as they see Connor, they dart to their cubicles like little moles scurrying into their holes.
He doesn’t break pace.
“Connor.” I catch up to his side again. “Where are we going?”
“I’m bringing someone to my birthday party.”
“You’re not supposed to know about the party,” I whisper-hiss. How did he find out? Because he’s Connor Cobalt. That might be explanation enough.
He just knows things.
Connor has the same composed face, never changing, not even by a fraction of an inch. He must have a thousand walls hiding his emotions while he’s at work. For anyone, this would be exhausting, but I think this is his normal.
He easily skirts around a water cooler. “If they truly wanted to keep the party a secret, they wouldn’t have sent you to bring me.”
I’m at his offices alone on his birthday. It does seem suspect. “Fair point.”
Connor abruptly halts at a cubicle near an old fax machine. I crash into his back and then stumble. He just looks over his shoulder like a gnat splatted against his windshield.
I think Connor Cobalt is made of titanium.
Superman.
I frown.
Or is he Batman?
This is a real dilemma.
“You were in my way,” I mumble.
He steps to the right, giving me more room to stand. I mutter a thank you and raise my chin like Rose. Who are we bringing to the party? I draw a blank at first, but as soon as I see him, it clicks.
Sitting fixatedly in front of a computer, a twenty-one-year-old with big bulky headphones and messy brown hair types incessantly. His fingers pound the keyboard, not even noticing the strands of hair that hang into his eyes.
“Garrison,” Connor says, loud enough that anyone nearby can hear. Even hovering right in front of his cubicle, Garrison still never lifts his head. He’s transfixed with whatever’s on that computer.
Connor shifts, now able to wave a hand in front of the screen.
His eyes find Connor and then me, and all the while, he continues to type. Multitasking. Not my forte, but I envy those who can. So useful, it’s like a superpower all in itself.
“What do you want?” Garrison snaps, his focus returning to Connor, who also happens to be his boss. Last year, Connor invested in whatever startup Garrison chose, but Garrison’s choice is still a mystery to everyone. He claims he’s in the “early development” stages.
“You’re done for the day,” Connor says. “I need you to come with us.”
Garrison frowns and swings his head to me. He’s still typing. “Is this work related?”
“Umm…” I don’t know what to say. Yes? No? I shrug.
“Will you come with us if it isn’t?” Connor asks.
“No.”
Recently, we’ve all been a little worried about him. With Willow in London, he doesn’t have a lot of friends in Philadelphia, and he never talks about his family to Lo or me. They only live one street over, but his parents aren’t very social with any of us.
“Then it’s work related,” Connor replies. “Grab your things.”
Garrison yanks his headphones to his neck. To me, he says, “Just tell me where we’re going and why.”
I cave.
Mostly because this is Garrison, and he worked at Superhero & Scones before he ever migrated to Cobalt Inc. Sincerity even fills his blue-green eyes, and I can’t say no to it.
“Ryke’s house—or cottage.” We all call it a cottage; I don’t know why I called it a house. “It’s a surprise party for Connor.”
Connor has no reaction towards the venue of his party. He really keeps his emotions padlocked at work.
Garrison’s face scrunches up like we’re both insane. “How is this a surprise birthday if you know? And why the hell do you want me to go?”
“Surprising me is so rare that everyone uses the term loosely.” Then he points at the computer. “You’re here at six in the morning and you leave at midnight. Seven days a week. While I appreciate your work ethic, as your friend, it’s disconcerting.”
I didn’t know any of that. Garrison never kept those kind of hours at Superheroes & Scones, but that was also when Willow lived here.
Garrison inhales a tight breath, but he doesn’t really exhale. “You’re my boss, not my friend.”
“I’m both,” Connor says easily, “and since you seem to be lacking in the friend department lately, I wouldn’t turn my back on one, especially friendships as valuable as mine.”
I stick up for Garrison. “Having no friends isn’t a bad thing.”
Garrison pinches his eyes. “Can you both just shut up?” After a short moment of thought, he rolls back in his chair, grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. His ripped jeans and black hoodie contrasts the suit and ties of other employees.
I doubt he cares about conforming to the proper business attire.
Garrison stands five inches shorter than Connor. “If I go, you have to stop calling me your friend. We’re not, okay?” Before Connor speaks, Garrison turns on me. “And I have friends…” He pauses and corrects himself, “One friend. She’s just not here.”
Connor casually checks his watch. “Most people would be on their knees to be my friend. This just illustrates your lack of judgment.”
He never fails at reminding us all how special he is, even in this backhanded way, and no matter how old we are and how many years pass, I can’t help but agree.
Connor Cobalt is one of a kind.
Garrison nods and says dryly, “Thanks, boss.”
“Follow me.” Connor motions to both of us, and now we’re off to the party. At least I’ve succeeded on my part. I didn’t fail like I thought I would’ve.
Garrison and I trail Connor on our way to the elevators. I don’t rush to keep up with Connor anymore. I stick with Garrison’s pace. As we pass a copy machine, he whispers to me, “Just so you know, you’re my favorite boss.”
I shouldn’t take pride in that fact, since Garrison was just clearly insulted by Connor, but I hold onto it anyway.
Favorite Boss Award Goes To…
I smile wide.
* * *
I cup the speaker of my phone by my mouth. “We’re walking up to the cottage now.” I trail Connor and Garrison and try not to trip on the slick stone set into the grass. Smoke plumes out of the chimney, the cottage all gray stone. It suits Ryke and Daisy the same way that the enormous, regal Cobalt estate resembles my older sister and her husband.
My house is simple and more common in comparison to theirs. Just red brick, a regular kind of yard, no fountains or tulip trees, no quaint windows or a hand-built tree house. I like simple, and I know Lo does too.
“Is he at the door?” Rose’s voice echoes through my phone.
“Not yet.” The white front door has half a window, but they must’ve taped paper over it because I can’t see inside.
The blinds snap on another window, and a pair of yellow-green eyes darts from left to right until they narrow on Connor. They disappear faster than lightning.
“I saw you,” I whisper-hiss.
“Shhh,” she retorts.
She’s shushing me? I put the speaker closer to my l
ips. “I fulfilled my role. I’d like some appreciation for chaperoning a genius.” Connor is at the front door, and I think he heard me. He glances over his shoulder with this look like do you really believe you’re being quiet?
Right.
He has superhuman hearing.
Superman.
“Thank you, Lily.” Rose sounds grateful. And then she hangs up on me.
I squint at Connor as I approach. “Are you sure you don’t have a bodysuit beneath your shirt?”
Garrison doesn’t try to figure out what I’m saying. He apathetically leans against the stone siding.
Connor stares down at me. “If I said no, would you believe me?”
I think for a second. Superman wouldn’t give up his secret identity, would he? “Only if you showed me. I’d need evidence.”
Without hesitation, Connor begins unbuttoning his white button-down, and my whole face sears, red-hot as his bare chest comes into view. As he strips for me.
“Nonono,” I slur, “that’s okay.” I’d like to have Connor’s shameless attitude, but then again, he’s in a league of his own. “I believe you. I believe you!”
His amused smile only makes my neck burn. “I’m glad,” he says casually and leaves two of his buttons undone. Then he turns the doorknob, and we all step inside.
“SURPRISE!!”
The household says all at once. Moffy, Jane, Beckett, and Charlie are front-and-center, tossing confetti at Connor. Daisy is knelt by Sulli, helping her little baby join the other kids. Note to self: the hot-tempered triad does not throw confetti at parties. Rose, Lo, and Ryke are nowhere near the little bits of paper.
“Happy Birthday, Daddy!” Jane is the first to say, tossing another handful of confetti from this little pink pail.
I skirt around Connor to see his reaction.
He’s smiling at all the children.
He’s smiling.
Rose is too.
And then they lock eyes, and I swear the world slows for a second or two. The nerd stars are a powerful force while in orbit. I touch my cheeks, my dopey grin hurting my face.
I step forward in a daze—ohmyGod, I crash into something hard and I fall down on top of it. Is that…I shriek in horror. I’m lying on top of Connor Cobalt! Or a cardboard version…his smug grin is right by my lips. I have my hands on his shoulders.
Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5) Page 10