Look But Don't Touch: Enemies to Lovers

by Hayle, Olivia

  Jealousy and anger burned through me at the sight. My own eyes fill with it, returning to his with all the judgment I could muster. Let him see how angry I could be too.

  He broke our gaze and returned it to the short woman next to him. Vivienne leaned in closer. “He looks a bit drab, but hot too, I think. In that quiet way. You should go over there.”

  “No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

  The round of shots didn’t come, as predicted. The others turned restless real quick.

  “Let’s go to Bumble and Berry.”

  “It’s not open yet!”

  “I know a great place next door,” Ty said. “For sure they’ll let us in for free, although it might be through the back door.”

  Coats were tugged on, dollar bills left on the table to cover our martinis. I tried to surreptitiously slip an extra twenty for the waitress, who’d been so poorly treated since the arrival of Viv’s friends.

  She linked arms with me as we exited the bar, chatting excitedly about the upcoming trip she was taking with her sister's college-aged friends to Cancun. I glanced behind us; Grant was alone now. His date's coat still hung over the chair - had she gone to the bathroom?

  “Hey, Viv. I’ll meet you guys outside? I’ll just be a minute.”

  She glanced behind me. “Don’t tell me you’re going to slip him your number while his date is in the ladies? You’re bad, Ada!” She grinned.

  “Yes,” I agreed wanly and marched over to where he was sitting. If I gave myself too much time to think about it, I knew I would have chickened out. Action first, thought later. When had that ever gone wrong?

  His eyes darkened as he saw me approach.

  “Having fun?” He asked, voice silky and distant. I hated when he sounded like that; the old Grant, the superior facade.

  “Very.” I crossed my arms. “Like you seem to be doing.”

  He looked over at the mystery woman’s coat with a thin veneer of surprise, gone as quickly as it had come. “Ah. That’s not what you’re imagining, I think.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Grant narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were done with your old tricks, Ada. Who were those people?”

  I'd been asking myself the same question not ten minutes earlier, but at the judgment in his voice the stubbornness in me reared its ugly head. "They're great people. Just great. And it’s not like who I’m friends with is any of your concern.”

  He downed the drink he was holding in one quick swallow. “No, that’s for damn sure.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re moving on so quickly.” I backed away, feeling the acid rise up in my throat. “Hope you manage to give her a good night.”

  “Likewise,” he spat. “Though won’t nights spent with that crew jeopardize your little deal with Daddy?”

  “You’re an ass, you know?”

  “See you Monday!”

  “Looking forward to it!”

  I stormed out of the bar, pulling my coat on tighter as I did. Why did it hurt so bad, talking with him like this? Every part of me felt bruised, even as anger spiraled.

  The night air was cool as I emerged from the hotel and my breath rose in little puffs before me, white in the darkness.

  Vivienne was leaning against the wall, a cigarette in hand, her long legs crossed. "There you are! Did the flirting go alright?" She wriggled her eyebrows.

  “Splendid. Where are the others?”

  “They popped to the liquor store around the corner to pick up some more l’alcool to down before the bar. I said we’d wait here.”

  I grabbed her hand in mine. Adrenaline rushed through me, hot and fiery, and I felt jittery from my encounter with Grant.

  “Vivienne. I don’t want to keep doing this. Going out to these bars all week, hanging around with these types of people. What does Ty do?”

  Vivienne looked thunderstruck, blinking at me with heavily mascaraed lashes. “He’s one of the new DJs playing at Bumble and Berry. He’s going to be someone someday.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But he seems like a genuinely terrible person. Did you hear the way he scolded that poor waitress in there?” I said. “And you deserve someone better. We haven’t been very good friends to each other in the past, Viv. You know that. We’d rile each other up and push each other to go further and further on every night out.”

  “But that was fun.” She looked disbelieving. “We were having fun, Ada.”

  I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think that was what we were really seeking. Call me when you want to talk about something real, Viv. When you want to meet up at daylight.”

  “You think you’re better than me,” she gaped. “Do you want me to remind you of all the shit you pulled last year? Or the year before?”

  “I don’t need you to,” I said, trying to summon my courage to announce the decision I’d already made. “But I’m going to get help. And I wish that you would, too.”

  She was still watching me when I got into the cab I hailed, staring after me with indecipherable eyes. I prayed she would sort herself out and surround herself with better people. I promised myself that I would contact her again, as soon as I got back to New York. When I could try to have a proper conversation with her.

  When I was who I wanted to be again.

  Addie.

  Both my mother and brother had called me that. Maybe I could find her again, be her again. I knew I owed it to them both to try. And I owed it to myself.

  22

  Grant

  It had been a couple of days, but I still couldn’t believe that she had been out with them again.

  It confirmed everything.

  I was such a fool to have considered opening myself up to her when she was clearly not discerning with those she spent her time with. Me in the diner by her house one night, ten drunk and high fools who harassed waiters the next.

  Maybe she told everyone those stories. Maybe she had told them to me, sensing that there was something to be gained from that. That I could somehow be worked into sharing more of myself. The damndest of it all was that it had been working.

  But that was over now. If there was one thing I’d learned for sure, it was that I had been right about Ada Hathaway from the start - and right in my decision not to let women in. It did you no good.

  It had certainly not been a date I'd been on, but an interview with Jenna Marlon of Art Weekly. But when Ada had spoken to me like that… well, I hadn't minded if she got the wrong impression. Perhaps that had been silly of me. I shook my head as if to clear the thought away. What was done was done.

  The small calendar on my desk had the date 30th of March marked with a small, black x. The day her internship would come to an end. I’d put the mark there nearly a month ago, after the first time in the storage room. The little x stared at me, reminding me of my naivety. At the time I had been looking forward to it.

  I still did, but for entirely different reasons. So that she could be out of my life for good, and I could return to my normal habits and my normal work without any blonde, irritatingly witty distractions.

  And now it was only three days away. Three more days.

  I could handle that. I knew I could.

  The lawyers rang after lunch.

  “Grant Wood.”

  There was a deep sigh on the other side. “Hi, Grant, it’s Roger from Brent and Gail. We have a problem.”

  Someone, somewhere, was accusing me of embezzling funds from the company. It was ridiculous - stupid - and entirely unfounded. And yet the documents they’d sent over for me to peruse made it all very clear. Someone had documents allegedly proving that I had siphoned on massive amounts of money from auctions and into my own pockets.

  It would be a long, drawn-out legal battle - and one I didn’t need right now.

  Linda popped her head in.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment, sir?”

  “Yes.” I put down the papers the lawyers had emailed me. If this was actually happening, we needed to prepare. I’d call
them back later.

  She closed the door behind her and sank down into the chair opposite my desk with a wide smile. “It’s Ada’s last day on Friday.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  “I think we should organize a goodbye present, something to show that she’s been valued while she’s been here.”

  Gosh. “I’m not against that. Talk to HR and see what you can come up with.”

  “Will do. It’ll be from all of us.” Linda rose to leave, pausing by the still-closed door. “They’ve been through a lot, that family. She deserves to be happy.”

  I bristled under her gaze. “Yes, she does.”

  Linda gave a short nod, as if something had been decided, and left my office.

  I shook my head in exasperation. Linda was too intuitive for her own best - and my shot at making Ada happy was bound to fail. I ought to have told her that, if it wouldn’t have jeopardized everything.

  A courier arrived with a bottle of 40-year old Macallan after lunch, wrapped in a beautiful wooden cask. It was delivered and put on my conference table. I sighed and rose, digging through the packaging to fish out the card. Doubtless some client who wanted to impress us, or a competitor who tried to brag with sales numbers. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

  But no. It was from Arthur.

  Thanks for taking Ada on. I owe you one, Grant.

  Fucking hell. Had everyone conspired today to remind me Ada was leaving soon?

  And he did not owe me. I owed him everything. Perhaps I needed to do a better job of conveying that in the future.

  23

  Ada

  The office was eerily quiet when I entered. There was no cheerful hello from Linda, no lop-sided smile from Adam. No morning meeting.

  “Hello?” I asked. “Where is everyone?”

  Sarah came out from the copier room. “Hey, Ada,” she said with a taut smile. “Something’s happened.”

  Fear gripped ahold of me. Things were never good when someone started like that. Had there been an accident? Where was Grant? I couldn't handle it if something had happened.

  “Tell me.”

  “Grant’s been charged with embezzlement. He’s down talking to the lawyers and the police right now.”

  “That’s ludicrous.”

  “We think so too.” She shook her head. “Linda is down there, pacing outside the interrogation room.”

  “Has it hit the media yet?”

  “No. But it likely will.”

  Thoughts flicked through my head, moving faster and faster with each step. Grant Wood loved this company. He had made it into what it was today; he lived and breathed it. He had more money than anyone could spend in a lifetime - there was no need for him to embezzle. Throwing everything he had built away?

  “This reeks,” I said.

  "That's what Adam said too," Sarah said. "He's down with our second team of lawyers, trying to hammer out where the accusations first came from. Whether or not evidence had been forged."

  Anger rose up in my chest, hot and furious. "There can only be one person behind this," I said. I fumbled with the clasp to my bag. "I'm going to call Ben Harris, and you're going to record this conversation."

  Sarah immediately fished up her phone out of her pocket, voice hard. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”

  I hesitated with my finger over the call button. “No,” I admitted. “But I am too angry to do anything else.”

  He replied on the first ring, smug voice clear.

  “Ada! I knew you’d forgotten to thank me for something.”

  “Trumped up charges? Surely that’s low, even by you.”

  Rich laugh spilled out of the phone. “Now, now, Ada, I don’t possibly know what you mean by that.”

  “Clever, really. How did you get the FBI to give you the time of day?”

  “Surprising, really, how accommodating people get with a bit of money.”

  I bit my lip. “Which department at Jack and Thorn’s did you work for again before you took over the operating role? Books and Manuscripts?”

  There was a brief, stunned silence on the other end. Then his smug voice returned. “You’ve been reading about me?”

  “I suppose one of your trade skills was to spot a forgery.”

  “You know, I always suspected you were smarter than you let on. It’s a shame you’re so devoted to Grant, but I suppose we all have different tastes. Some might prefer cardboard.”

  “This is too far, even in this ridiculous war of yours.”

  He laughed. “Nothing personal, of course. I did what I had to.”

  The line clicked off. Sarah gave a shaky sigh of relief and clicked off the sound of the recording.

  “Wow. I can’t believe it. He all but admitted it.”

  "I knew he wouldn't be able to help it. If there's one thing he loves to do, it's gloating."

  “Ada, we need to get this to the police. Right away.”

  “Can we just stop an interrogation like that?”

  She bit her lip. “No. But the lawyers should hear it. They’ll know what to do.”

  And they did. Mr. Tyron, the lawyer who had been on the company’s retainer for as long as I could remember, shook his head when he heard the recorded phone call.

  “The man’s an imbecile,” he said. “What’s in those forged documents is skillful, yes, but might also land him in court for attempted slander and fraud.”

  “Mr. Harris?”

  “Yes. That was a huge risk he took.”

  “I don’t think he ever suspected it might lead back to him.”

  "And clearly he didn't think you clever enough to consider using a basic recording device," Adam muttered next to us. "Can we get Grant released immediately with this?"

  “It’ll take a couple of days. The accusations are serious, and I think it would be better for the legitimacy of the company and for the investigation if Grant sat out from the office for a few days. Let him work from home. His next in command can be acting-CEO - that would be you, Adam?”

  “Yes. Grant won’t like that, however.”

  Mr. Tyron sighed. “He sure won’t. But Mr. Wood doesn’t have a choice in this particular matter. For the board to remain confident in his leadership I would say it’s a necessity.”

  “How long until his name can be entirely cleared?”

  “Depends on how long until we can prove definitively that there is considerable and plausible doubt that these documents are real. Shouldn’t take long, with this.” He gave the phone a small wave. “Now we know where to start looking.”

  The office was a strange mixture of mayhem and calm after that. Grant was sent to collect his coat from the upstairs office and was then swiftly escorted out of the building. He looked tall and annoyed, but I thought that his jaw was clenched tight. To go through that and know you were innocent… having to leave your own company because of unfounded accusations. It was what Ben had wanted, and it annoyed me to no end that he had managed to succeed - for a few days, at the very least.

  “Listen up everyone,” Adam said with crossed arms. “We are going to keep this ship afloat until Grant returns. This is nothing new, we do as we’ve always done. Auctions continue. Marketing continues. Customer service most definitely continues to be excellent.” He straightened his glasses and gave a slight, nervous cough. “And if you have any questions or concerned, you’re welcome to direct them to me or to Sarah.”

  A few days without the ability to come into the office - if there was anything that threatened to kill him, it might be that. Grant lived and breathed this job.

  It was a testament to how well he’d drilled this office that few things changed in his absence. Adam directed us all efficiently, ensuring that all t:s were crossed and i:s dotted while carrying out his normal duties.

  “Gosh,” I once heard him mutter to himself as he sat in front of his computer. “He needs to stop emailing us so damn much.”

  I tried and failed to stop the smile spreading across my
face. That sounded exactly like the insufferable, difficult to like Grant I knew.

  Who still hadn’t apologized for accusing me of seducing him with the sole purpose of gaining access to my trust fund.

  And so the days continued, despite all the craziness and the writings and lawyers and questions.

  Minna: I’ve just heard about the boss man. It hit the newspapers today.

  Ada: Don’t remind me. I’m helping our public relations team do damage control now.

  Minna: Is it true?

  Ada: Absolutely not.

  Minna: I guess you’re not seeing much of him now then?

  I looked up at his office, the lights still out. No one had been in there apart from the cleaners since he’d been forced out of the office, a tall and lean figure emanating annoyance.

  Ada: Not at all. If I’m lucky, I might even finish my internship without seeing him.

  Minna: Are you still intent on going?

  I smiled and sent a screenshot of the plane tickets I’d booked just that morning, my heart in my throat. The nerves lessened as soon as the purchase went through, when the decision was made, even if I still found it hard to believe that I’d actually committed to this.

  Ada: 100% I am.

  Minna: Are you really, truly sure that you’re okay with not seeing him before you leave? I mean, I’m all for it - but just in case.

  I sighed. Typical Minna to not let you get away with anything, having to pry. Not that it wasn’t good for me - it just forced me to be a tad more introspective than was my custom.

  Ada: Yes. He accused me of something vile, made light of everything that happened between us, and then went out on a date with someone else. I’m done, Minna. It’s not worth the pain.

  Minna: I’m proud of you.

  I smiled and sent her a heart-eyed emoji. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad to have a friend who studied psychology and regularly used you as a test subject.

  And the thing was - he didn’t return. The days passed quickly.

  “Dear,” Linda said after lunch before my final day, “will you be so kind and drop some documents off to Grant on your way home from work? I know you live close by.”