The Last Heartbeat

by Katerina Simms

She peered down at a folded yellow post-it note. “What is it?”

  His pause cut through her daze, far too prolonged, and she finally turned her attention to him again. “My address.”

  “Why?”

  Why would I ever want or need Luke’s address?

  “Because next time we do this, it will be at my house.”

  13

  A new day, and Agathe pushed through Tiluma’s corridors, her attention low on the slate-gray carpets, while loose tendrils of hair acted as a veil about her face. Despite Luke giving her his address last night, she had no plans to use it, much less get personal with him ever again. In fact, right about now, she’d be glad to finish her day without bumping into him.

  The raucous sound of a dog’s bark bounced down the corridor, and she paused at the distinctive musk smell of canine. She lifted her head, a sense of grossed-out interest causing her to pick up her pace.

  Twenty or so Tiluma employees gathered around the break area, expressions ranging from delight to dismay, while approximately ten dogs of all differing sizes and breeds scampered about, Max standing front and center of the pandemonium.

  For a long minute, she stood on the group’s edge, her hands balling into fists, her jaw clamped shut to keep from swearing.

  “What’s all this?” Her voice cut clear across the group and caught even her by surprise, before she gathered her wits enough to sidle directly up to Max.

  “Oh, Agathe. I’m glad you’re here.” He smacked her on the shoulder, like he confused her for some old buddy of his. She wasn’t his buddy. In fact, right about now, she didn’t even want to be his co-worker. “My first day at management training was incredible. I thought I’d implement one of my new team-building ideas right away.”

  His jovial grin grew, and he nodded toward the dogs. She turned back to the tangle of canines and cringed at one particularly mangy-looking terrier. The scraggly beast lay on its back, rubbing its filthy fur against the carpet.

  She extended an unenthused flat tone. “By bringing a pack of wild dogs into work?”

  “Oh, these aren’t all mine.” He laughed and slapped her on the shoulder again; she tried not to splutter against the forceful, awkward gesture. He pointed to the mangy terrier, the one assaulting the carpet. “Especially not that one; he’s just tagging along for a couple of hours. Anyway, I sent a company-wide memo out last night inviting everyone to bring their dogs to work. You know, to help boost morale.”

  He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, returning his attention to her, still beaming.

  Meanwhile, a sick feeling rolled somersaults in her stomach. The mangy terrier turned to licking its crotch, and she had to cover a need to dry heave, all while servicing her duty to educate Max. “Did you check with human resources first?”

  He waved his hand in a flippant gesture and tsked. “Where’s the spontaneity in that?”

  The last shred of her control twisted and threatened to snap. She took a slow and centering breath, the only way to not pepper what she had to say next with expletives.

  “Good team building isn’t about spontaneity. A large part is about effective planning and knowing how to read your crowd.” Her voice rose, despite her attempt to hold back.

  Shit. If she didn’t reel herself in, she might actually snap at this man.

  “Look.” She pointed to the wider office, where confused employees stared with befuddled gapes. “Can’t you see, not everyone here is happy about this? Did you even bother to check if anyone here has an allergy to or fear of dogs? Did you check if Tiluma’s current building lease allows animals on premises?” She leaned forward, elbows locked at her sides, her entire body stiff with barely restrained anger. Sure, her dark mood wasn’t all Max’s fault, but how could one person be so damn inept?

  “Did you check if Tiluma’s insurance covers dog-related injuries, say, if one of these dogs goes feral and bites someone? Heck, did you even stop to weigh up whether dogs in the office might actually hinder productivity at a time when Tiluma needs to get its ass into gear?”

  A deathly quiet engulfed the room, except for a couple of awkward throat clearings, and the shuffle of the classier employees in the crowd peeling away.

  She’d misplaced her cool in front of the whole office, and everyone knew it.

  The queen of professionalism had lost her crown. Then again, having sex with Luke had probably pushed her a huge, freaking mile closer to that, anyway.

  “No.” Max blinked at her, his washed-out complexion pulling her away from her own mounting disaster and onto his. “No, to any of that.”

  She rubbed a finger between her strained brows, her throat tight from the effort of keeping her voice down, which wasn’t damn-well working anyway. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m probably being too harsh here, but can you please just sort this mess out?” She leveled Max with what she hoped was a softer stare. “And maybe get human resources to help you next time you have a similar idea?”

  He gave a slow nod, his shoulders slumped. “Sure thing. I’m sorry about this. I really am. Are you okay?”

  She held up a hand, signaling for him to just deal with the issue and save the apologies and questions. “I’m fine. Then again…” She pointed to the mangy terrier. “Before I let you off the hook, tell me where on earth did you find that thing?”

  “He’s, ummm….” Max’s sheepish grin bent into a firm grimace. “He’s from the alleyway next door. I pass him every day on the way to work and figured he might enjoy a break from being out in the cold. I was surprised when he actually let me catch him today.”

  She clamped her hand over her mouth and actually did swear into her palm this time.

  Max’s heart might be in the right place, but who knew what diseases the dog carried?

  “Call the nearest no-kill shelter.” She pushed the words through gritted teeth and hoped to goodness no one in this office caught anything from the stray, much less took any formal action against Tiluma. “Deal with him too. Okay?”

  She spun around and stormed away, quitting her starring role in Max’s dog-themed circus.

  She powered on, head bowed, hoping the day was young enough that work, usually her one escape, could still provide its healing powers. It didn’t help that Max bore a strong enough resemblance to Luke to make her realize that breaking her dry spell had been her dumbest bloody idea ever.

  Her desk waited maybe a few cubicles ahead, and she focused hard on getting herself there fast. Maybe a little too hard. Because she slammed head-first into a tall wall of unrelenting muscle.

  “Fuck.”

  She bounced back, her head snapping upward in time for her to see Luke, with his usual shadowy glare, before her.

  She returned his glare, throat tight around her emerging words. “Control your brother.”

  Luke didn’t so much as blink. “I’d rather control you.”

  She jerked back, using the sudden move to distance herself a couple of steps more. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means,” he lowered his voice to a tense whisper, quiet enough that no one else around could hear, “both of us know you lashing out at Max has little to do with his dumb-ass idea this morning.”

  She rolled her eyes, giving that claim the dismissal it deserved. “Don’t assume one intimate event means you know me. I care about this job, and I have a promotion to snare, remember? So, if you can’t be straight with Max, then I will. That was our deal.”

  She took a wide step, intent to get away, but he whipped out a hand and caught her.

  “I’ve done everything you asked.” His voice lashed out, as though he referred to more than just her requests about Max. “And you care about your job a little too much.”

  She jolted, and her muscles coiled, her mind cranking back in a way that indicated she was about to unleash one well-earned tirade.

  “What sort of misogynistic, ego-trip, bullshit statement is that?” She tilted her head toward the backdrop of his brother and the dogs.<
br />
  Screw Luke. Actually, she’d already done that, so…

  Damn him to a lice-infested island with angry killer bees!

  Damn him for being yet another person on her case about her dedicated work ethic. It wasn’t her job to play nice just to make others feel better about her life choices… “I’m going to do you one last kindness and gloss over the probable truth that you would never say anything so asinine to one of your male employees. I’ll also assume your true gripe here is based on jealousy—that you don’t care enough about your job, and neither does your brother—and all this lack of care will blow up in both your faces one day.”

  Metaphorical alarm bells rang in her head, and her muscles ached with impossible strain. Even this burning anger took her beyond her usual state of numb grief and loneliness. Damn Luke. Damn him again. And what the ever-loving heck is happening to me, anyway?

  This closeted knuckle-dragger, pretending to be a refined CEO, had somehow broken past her daily drudgery. He’d cracked her carefully maintained façade, which meant she’d shared more than just her body last night and shared even more now.

  He’d changed things. Turned her life into something unrecognizable. Whatever he’d done, she outright hated him for it.

  She peered down to where his hands still wrapped around her upper arms.

  “Let me go.” Her voice came out with a strong measure of gravel; she lifted her arms and shook him off.

  The row of meeting rooms stood along the far wall to her right. She marched toward them, glad the majority of employees on this level still lingered in the break area.

  She slammed the door to the smallest meeting room behind her and barricaded herself inside. Maybe she would ditch her cubicle for the day, hide out in here, away from public view, at least until the overwrought tremble in her limbs subsided.

  She lowered herself into a chair and dropped her forehead to the desk, her breath fogging the polished hardwood. She could have stayed like that for hours. Could have found peace in this room’s silence where her heartbeat slowed, and each deep inhalation brought her thoughts into focus. But the meeting room’s door handle made a loud snap, and the door itself swung wide open.

  A seriously pissed Luke now glowered before her.

  14

  A tight band squeezed around Luke’s head, not a surprise, since the intimacy from last night had ended with Agathe bounding away like a proverbial scared rabbit.

  His hands strained with a need to reach for her, but he kept his arms locked at his side. Up until now, showing her goodwill hadn’t gotten him far. He’d had no choice but to hope that last night would sustain him. That in time, he might convince her he was worth the risk of falling in love. That he had more to offer than sex and maybe he could help her through whatever fears held her back. But seeing her just now left him wondering if any of that was possible.

  “We need to talk.” Actually, he needed more than just to talk. He needed to shake something, preferably her prickly temper, if tempers could be shaken. She made him feel so out of control. He should have forced this conversation last night and saved himself the trouble of a public exchange today.

  She glared at him, her eyes red-rimmed and narrowed. “No. You need to leave me alone.” Her head returned to its lowered position on the table. “Go sort your shit out.”

  His jaw pressed together, and a dull pain emanated through to his teeth. Damn this woman! His life might have been in peril countless times, but she, more than any danger, had an ever-increasing ability to crush each and every one of his future dreams.

  He’d envisioned one day maybe finding stability and a family, but Agathe and her mayhem somehow trumped all his previous wishes. “I’m trying to, but it wasn’t your place to reprimand Max just then, and you certainly didn’t need to do it in front of the entire office.”

  “You’re right. I apologize.” Her voice muffled against the table before she lifted her head and gave a casual shrug. “But your brother’s acting like an idiot, and there’s no changing that fact.”

  He drew a slow inhalation, while angry fire licked the walls of his already churning stomach. Sex or not, she had no place insulting Max.

  “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” He tilted his head to one side, reminding himself he was the CEO here. He’d hired her. She didn’t run this show. “And why don’t you try saying that to Max’s face?”

  She narrowed her gaze again. “Why don’t you start taking your company’s issues seriously?”

  “It seems you’re taking my job seriously enough for both of us.”

  “Funny. I don’t think you appreciate just how much Max’s stunts are nudging Tiluma toward trouble. You need just one pissed employee to drop a lawsuit, and Tiluma’s reputation is ruined. Just one. And I can tell you now, Luke, you have far more than one standing right outside this meeting room.”

  Her eyes blazed, and the truth in her statement came as a damp, heavy blanket to his simmering rage.

  “You don’t know the first thing about my brother.” He kept his words slow and deliberate, and he leaned forward to crowd as much of her space as possible. “Give him time. At least until he receives the training you suggested.”

  “Max doesn’t have the luxury of time. Neither do you.” She mirrored his stance, angling in, her dark scowl counteracting his attempt to intimidate. “Schneider’s visit is a month away, and for all of next week, I’ll be at Slate and King, checking in on other clients. I can’t be around to hold Max’s hand while he develops some basic people skills. Your brother has zero chance of putting on a decent show, not with our current timeline. Meanwhile, your whole tech team is suffering, and for a damn tech company, that’s downright inexcusable.” She lowered her chin, her glare sharp as knives and equally pointed. “Someone as savvy as Schneider will notice the deficit.”

  He curled his fingers at his sides, a stab of shame piercing his pride. Or maybe it wasn’t so much shame, but an unvoiced knowledge she was right.

  “I’ll handle Max. We can always get Daniel to cover with Schneider.”

  “And that’s another thing.” The shadow of a smirk twisted her mouth, as though she’d thought through any excuses he might make. “I don’t think you realize just how much slack Daniel already picks up, much less how lucky you are to have that man. You shouldn’t need to do all this patching up to compensate for one lacking employee. It’s a miracle Daniel didn’t ditch Tiluma a long time ago.”

  Her eyes glinted like maybe she got some kind of kick out of knocking him down a peg or two. Meanwhile, he hadn’t forgotten her previous claim about Daniel deserving Max’s position, which only succeeded in reducing his heart rate down to a thudding beat.

  Maybe it would be only a matter of time before his brother lost the CTO role. Maybe there was only so much covering Luke could keep doing for Max.

  He paused a moment, inspecting the tension on her face and the subtle shift of her gaze away from his. “We need to talk about last night.”

  She shook her head. “In the light of day, in this office, last night never happened.”

  He pressed his teeth together, pushing past the sting of her words. “Aren’t you the one who insisted the action happen right here, in this office?”

  She stared up at him through her lashes, the flaming look denoting silent seething. “I can promise you there’ll be no repeat action.”

  An incredulous laugh broke from him, and he took a few calculated steps to her side, leaning in close to her ear. “I doubt that very much.”

  She didn’t move, save for turning her head to glare at him. “You’re full of yourself, you know that?”

  He gave a smirk and didn’t so much as blink at the hard scorn in her tone. “You misunderstand. The thing is, I’ll figure out what your deal is soon enough, and when I do, there’ll be no escape for you, Ms. Santos.”

  Her perfect jawline formed a barely perceptible tremble; still, she jutted out her chin and spoke again. “You’re right, I do misunderstand. V
ery few of the words you speak ever make much sense to me.”

  He folded in his lower lip, biting back a laugh. Her rebuff should have hurt, but it was such an Agathe thing to say, he couldn’t help but toy with her right back just to see how she’d respond. “And you do a weak job at playing dumb. I plan to have you, Agathe, I mean really have you. Body and soul. It’s best you understand that, one day, I’ll know everything there is to know about you, and there’ll be no more avoiding me.”

  She rolled her eyes and dragged out a bored groan. “And once again, your arrogance is showing. What are you going to do, move yourself into my house?”

  The subtle shiver of her breath and the curl of her fingers atop the table tripped his years of military training and boardroom experience. Those details meant something; not only was Ms. Santos increasingly nervous, but she hid secrets on top of secrets.

  “I don’t need to move myself in. You’ll tell me of your own accord.” He dropped his gaze to just under the table, to her crossed legs and her foot bouncing back and forth, a sign again that he spoke the truth. “And once more, your fear is showing.”

  He affected her, no doubt about it. And she had no clue what to do with him, much less her own torrid emotions. And even with her poorly hidden worry, a large portion of his own dented pride rejoiced that he had any impact on her at all.

  Her gaze did a restless sweep of the room, like he’d hit the nail on the head, and she searched for an escape.

  “Yeah, I am afraid.” She near-whispered the confession, while her jaw picked up a level of strain. “The fact I’m willing to admit that means you should give me the space I’ve asked for.”

  She snatched up her leather satchel and rose from her chair, her lifted chin seeming to block him out again.

  His blood raced. He needed her to hear him out. To stay. He was by no means the world’s biggest romantic, but he recognized something in her. Something worth holding onto and fighting for. Somehow, he had to convince her to see that she wanted him just like he wanted her. Or, at least, he hoped she did.