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 Contents
Also by Olivia Oakley

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20

Preview: Read Next…

Copyright © 2023 by Inkblot Press
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.
 Also by Olivia Oakley
Standalone Contemporary Romance
Every Time We Fight
This Risky Game We Play

Standalone Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Of Fate & Magic
The Witch’s General

You can also follow the author at: www.inkblotpress.com

 Prologue

“CHARLOTTE, WHERE ARE YOU?”

I press the phone closer to my ear to hear the hiss of Elena’s
voice.
“Where are you?” I smile, weaving my way through the packed
street. “I had that doctor’s appointment this morning.”
I hear her let out a curse. There’s an echo on the line and I can
hear crackles, like the connection is bad. “Elena, I can’t hear you.
Why don’t you text me? Or come by my office? I’m almost there.”
All I can hear is the sound of muffled voices followed by the click
as Elena hangs up. I debate calling her back before I slip my phone
back into my purse. It’s hard enough trying not to spill my coffee
without having to juggle a phone too.
The doors of the SUTHERLAND come into view. The dark glass is
striking against the beige stone and pillars that line the door.
My gaze is drawn to three people casually leaning against parked
cars, their eyes scanning the crowd but always returning to the
entrance of the building. It takes me a second to clock the camera
one of them is trying to hide at their side. Reporters. They haven’t
seen me. I can still turn around and find some other way in. But that
isn’t my style.
I barrel past them, doing my best to ignore the questions they
hurl at me and the rapid click of the camera shuttering. However, the
words bankruptcy and Sutherland come through loud and clear.
 I credit the security guard on the other side of the tinted glass
for making my escape from the press appear so seamless and
practiced.
He shuts the door behind me before returning to his post behind
the front desk, as I take a moment to steady myself.
“You okay?” he grunts as he buzzes me through.
“Yeah,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “What’s all
this about?”
Stevens shrugs, but I can see from the way he’s pursing his lips
that he knows and isn’t telling me—or can’t.
Knowing my stubbornness, he offers me a vague answer. “A lot
of new people around today.”
I let out an exasperated sigh, and he grins.
“Orders from up top. My lips are sealed until they make the
announcement.”
My fingers pause over the elevator button. It doesn’t take a
genius to know something big has happened. I open my phone and
check the news. Nothing. Yet. Now I regret my conversation with
Elena got interrupted.
“Right. Well, have a good day. And give those animals hell.”
Stevens follows my gaze to the press waiting outside. “They’re
doing their job. Can’t blame them for that.” He’s not the type to hold
a grudge.
Still unnerved, I feel compelled to argue with him.
“There are plenty of ways to get pictures and interviews without
accosting people,” I say as the elevator doors open and I step inside.
An apology is on the tip of my tongue, but it’s unnecessary. He
gives me an understanding smile, and I return it. He knows me too
well. Most days I play the part of the cold-hearted investment
banker. While I can be as cutthroat as the rest of them, I’m also the
one who brings in homemade cupcakes for the staff and remembers
birthdays.
If anyone wants to raise eyebrows or accuse me of being soft, I
let my numbers do the talking. I’ve been at this job for over seven
years now. My portfolios are solid, and my clients are thrilled with
my work. I can afford the luxury of being myself.
 Nearly at my floor, I smooth a hand over my white blouse and
tug at my emerald-green blazer, making sure I don’t look frazzled.
When the doors open, I’m greeted by a strange sight. No one is
at their desks. Instead, my team is standing around, a mild look of
panic on their faces—unusual given that we handle a stock portfolio
worth over two billion.
“Is someone going to tell me why no one is working?”
Taylor, my assistant, comes forward and offers to take my coat
and bag, freeing one of my hands to rest on my hip.
“We are locked out of our computers,” Patrick says. “They told us
to go to the north conference room at 9 a.m. We aren’t allowed to
leave the building.”
I let out a hiss of irritation. Do I even want to know how many
opportunities we’ve lost out on because of a delay like this? I take a
deep swig of my hot coffee, trying to rein in my emotions.
My team remains silent, sharing nervous glances with each other
and then with me. Whatever is going on, it’s not good.
I step inside my office and try to sign into my computer. An error
message flashes on screen. Brilliant. My mouth is dry. My only
concern now is figuring out what my play is going to be if Sutherland
has gone down. Who would survive? That is the million-dollar
question. Looking at my colleagues, it is clear they are all thinking
the same thing. I’m sure resumes have already been sent out.
It’s 8:43 a.m. Might as well go up now. Standing around down
here feels like an even bigger waste of time.
To call this space a conference room is a misnomer. Situated on
the top floor of the building, it provides stunning views of the city
and access to a rooftop patio. Far from being a dingy room only
filled with chairs and a stage, it’s a beautiful space we often use for
office parties that make the front pages and exclusive client events
that are talked about for ages. This is one of the many perks of
working at Sutherland.
It would be impossible to guess that now. Today the room is
bare, the atmosphere stifling.
The large glass windows make me feel like a goldfish trapped in
a bowl, one that grows smaller and smaller as more people trickle in.
Beyond a small nod of hello or strained smile, no one speaks. We all
wait in anxious silence.
I begin compulsively checking the time on my phone.
At 8:54 a.m., I let out an exasperated sigh.
At 8:56 a.m., I wonder when was the last time I updated my
resume.
At 9:01 a.m., a loud ding announces an elevator has arrived.
Over a hundred pairs of eyes watch the doors open.
Out steps Elena, executive assistant to the VP of Finance,
followed by the higher ups of Sutherland. Without a word, they
make their way towards the microphone and the row of twelve seats
set up behind it. Their faces are grim.
Elena turns on the mic and checks the volume. Her movements
are frantic, and I watch as she nearly trips over the cable as she
returns to her seat.
The first speaker is Anne McMillan.
“Good morning. On your arrival at work today, you may have
noticed some changes,” the usually jovial Anne says. Some force out
a laugh, but her macabre expression doesn’t break. Clearing her
throat, she starts again. “Before we go on, I want to remind you all
of the NDA each of you signed on your first day here as employees
of Sutherland. That means you cannot speak to anyone about what
you hear in this room. Am I clear?” Her sharp gaze travels around
the room as we nod like obedient schoolchildren. “Here at
Sutherland, we pride ourselves on our integrity…”
I hear the ding of the elevator again, but I don’t bother turning
to see who the late arrival is as I’m too busy silently urging Anne to
get to the point.
She stops mid-sentence when she spots who has arrived. “Ah.
Our guests are here.”
I crane my neck to see high-level executives from Blue Ridge
Investment Group making their way through the crowd.
I freeze when I spot him.
The immaculately tailored suit, the styled hair, the firm set of his
jaw. My throat grows tight as he reaches the front of the room. Over
the years, we’ve perfected the art of avoiding each other even
though professionally we run in the same circles.
As he takes a seat, he disappears from view and I’m flung back
to our last year of university when Will Scott and I were still friends.
One
 BEFORE

WATCHING the other students run through the aisles only to

panic when they see their textbook is sold out makes me glad I had
the foresight to pre-order my books. Holding my slip, I join the long
line of fellow students trying to get their course materials. Some like
me are simply picking up their orders while others who have found
their books are waiting to pay.
My mind wanders as I wait my turn. A key chain attracts my
attention. I haven’t purchased any swag yet, and while I would love
to buy a t-shirt or even a windbreaker, I don’t have the money to
splurge on that. Maybe if I pull a few extra shifts…
“You should get it,” a voice says behind me. I’m so surprised, I
let out a little yelp. I see the guy take a step back. The books in his
hands are precariously stacked. Some start falling, but I move
forward, catching them. My stint as a server comes in handy at
moments like this.
He gives me a sheepish grin as I place them back on his pile.
“Thanks.”
I can’t help noticing how attractive he is. In an unconventional,
messy kind of way. His dark brown hair is shaggy, and his sweater is
so big it’s swallowing his tall frame. None of this detracts from his
even features and his unexpected piercing blue eyes.
“No worries. Sorry for scaring you,” I mumble. The shy girl I
swore I’d leave behind in Montana is back.
His smile only deepens. “I’ve seen you around, haven’t I?”
 I frown. I’m not good with faces, and the first day of orientation
has been a blur. “What’s your major?”
“Econ and finance,” he says.
My eyes widen with surprise.
“I don’t look like the type, huh?” he asks with a smile.
I redden, hiding my face as we take a step forward, keeping pace
with the line.
“What’s yours?”
“Same as you. I was part of that scavenger hunt this morning.
That’s probably where you saw me,” I say.
The book on top of his pile wobbles. Without thinking, I grab the
top two books. “It would’ve been easier if you’d ordered them
online,” I say, unable to stop myself from pointing that out.
He shrugs. “But then I would’ve missed my chance to be saved
by a pretty freshman.”
I can’t help flushing. So he’s a flirt. Usually that would set alarm
bells ringing, but from him, I find it endearing. I get the feeling I
can’t take anything he says seriously.
“You might want to think of a new pick-up method.”
He scoffs.
“I’m serious. What are you going to do? Buy way too many books
every week in the hopes of meeting someone?”
He grins. “What do you suggest I do instead?”
I’m taken aback, but I find myself laughing. He asks me about
my schedule, and where I’m from. We end up complaining about our
dorm rooms and the lack of privacy. Before I know it, we are at the
front of the line, and I feel like I’ve divulged my life’s story to him
even though we haven’t even introduced ourselves.
With a nod and half wave, I go to the next available cashier.
I hand over the slip of paper with my order confirmation and wait
for them to hand me my books. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch
him chatting up to the person helping him. His enthusiasm is
infectious, and it’s not long before he has her laughing too.
“Is there something else I can help you with?” my cashier asks.
“No. Thank you,” I say, walking away.
I’m out the doors before I hear someone calling out, “Hey.”
 I turn to find the stranger running after me, a bag in each hand.
“Wait up.”
I stop in my tracks. In a few strides, he’s caught up to me. “Did
you think it’d be so easy to shake me?”
“Apparently not.” I smile back.
He sets down his bags and fishes something out of his pocket.
It’s the keychain I was eyeing. He holds it out to me.
“I can’t accept that.”
“It’s my way of buttering you up so you’ll say yes when I ask for
your number.” He winks. At my shocked expression, he laughs.
“Listen, my team for trivia night is one short. I’d love it if you’d
join us. Unless, of course, you already have a team, then I totally
understand.”
He has the audacity to bat his long lashes at me. I have to fight
back yet another smile when a thought strikes me. “Sure. As friends,
right?”
“Of course, you are way out of my league, and we both know it.”
An undignified snort escapes me, and we both laugh.
Before I can start overthinking things, he pulls out his phone.
“Name?”
“Charlotte Stanley.” And then I proceed to give him my number.
He sends me a quick text and then tucks his phone back in his
pocket, holding out his hand to me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Will
Scott. So I guess I’ll see you tonight?”
I nod.
“You can’t back out,” he calls over his shoulder.
And just like that, we become inseparable. I learn quickly that
Will has a tendency to collect people. He is a student from out of
state just like I am. Yet, by the end of the week, he’s managed to
gather a little posse and make us feel as if we’ve known each other
for years. For once, I feel like I have more friends than I know what
to do with, and at the center of it holding us all together, is him. For
the next four years, we’re inseparable.

2 Years Later
 “Sorry, Charlotte, I don’t think this is working out.”
I sip my iced coffee just for something to do as I watch Elliot
bluster through a speech about how it’s not about me, it’s him.
“We just want different things. I’m doing this for you. I don’t
want you to grow to resent me for holding you back.”
“That’s sweet of you…”
“I know.” He sits back looking relieved. “I knew you’d see it my
way.”
That wasn’t what I was going to say, but as I regard him, my
anger surfaces. He IS doing me a favor. But I’m not about to make
this easy for him. He won’t walk away from this feeling like he is
being the good guy.
“What sparked this realization? It couldn’t be that frosh week is
approaching, could it? Or maybe that cheerleader I saw you eyeing
last week finally caved and gave you her number?”
“Charlotte, I…”
“Which part did I get wrong?” I lean back in my seat. I feel
serene as I watch him fidget, first with his phone and then with his
coffee cup. He’s shocked by my sudden bluntness. In our four
months together, I have always been the sweet girl from Montana.
I’d been totally understanding when he had to cancel plans or when
he dragged me to watch his hockey games and completely ignored
me the entire night.
“You don’t need to be such a bitch.”
I laugh. “Right. Make this about me if you have to, but if you
were a real man, you’d have the balls to just tell me you got bored
and spotted something new and exciting. I hate liars.” I slide the
chair back. “Well, thanks for this. It’s been really fun. See you
around.”
He’s completely flabbergasted as I walk away, head held high.
On the outside I might appear cool and collected, but inwardly,
it’s a different story. I wasn’t madly in love with Eric or under any
illusions we might get married one day, but I expected more from
him.
I hold back everything until I am inside the little studio basement
I rent from an elderly couple. Between the sobs, I reach for my
phone, desperate to talk to the one person who never fails to make
me smile.

Eric was always an ass, right?

Been saying it for weeks. What happened?

He dumped me.

Fucker. BRB, have to go punch something…

Don’t you dare. He’s not worth the effort.

He goes quiet. I realize Will might be busy and decide to drown

my sorrows in some angsty movies on Netflix. Thirty minutes later,
I’m still watching trailers, trying to decide what I want to watch,
when I hear a knock at my door.
It’s Will. Standing there with a tub of cheap ice cream and a bag
of popcorn as he barrels his way into my place. “What are we
watching?”
My eyebrow arches. “How do you know I want company? Maybe
I just want this feast all to myself.”
He waves me off, searching my makeshift kitchen for some
spoons. I lean in to take one, but he holds them out of reach. “Admit
you love I came by unannounced.”
“No. Give me that spoon.”
He shrugs nonchalantly.
“You’ll have to sit there and watch me eat ice cream with my
hands,” I warn him.
“Actually, I’d love to see that.”
I huff, realizing I’m wasting precious time. “Fine. I love you
showed up unannounced.”
“Good.” He hands me a spoon and plops himself down on my
futon. “The others should be here any minute now. Let’s hurry and
pick a movie before we spend the whole night trying to decide on
something.”
 I’m thrilled by the thought of an impromptu movie night with all
our friends, yet I can’t stop the twinge of disappointment at having
to share Will. Before I can analyze my emotions any further, Will hits
play on some horror flick.
“Umm, excuse me. No way are we watching that.” I yank my
laptop away from him. He looks like he’s about to argue when I say,
“I’m the heartbroken one, remember?”
His eyes capture mine. “Did he break your heart?”
The question is serious, so I take my time mulling over my
answer. “No. Not really. I’m just sad.”
I yelp when he pulls me onto his lap, wrapping me in a warm
embrace. “Good.”
I wish we could stay like this forever.

3 years later

I watch from afar as Will kisses a girl on the cheek. He’s saying
goodbye, but she doesn’t seem ready to let him go. I wonder if I’ll
have to intervene, like I’ve had to countless times before. Despite his
messy hair and devil-may-care attitude when it comes to his outfits
—or perhaps because of it—girls always seem to gravitate towards
him. However, in the three years I’ve known him, he’s never once
pursued a long-term relationship.
He spots me and pulls away from the girl, before running
towards me without a backward glance. I catch the way she glares
at me before stomping off.
“Hey,” he says, a hand ruffling my hair.
Irritated, I swat him away. “I spent hours trying to tame this rat’s
nest, you know.”
“Oops,” he says but doesn’t have the decency to look apologetic
as I pull an elastic band off my wrist and tie my hair back.
“When are you going to put us all out of our misery and settle
down?”
“Have we traveled back in time to the eighteenth century?” he
mocks.
 Playing along, I nod. “You aren’t getting any younger, you know.
It’s time to stop being such a cliché, dating a new girl every week.”
He snorts. “Maybe I’m just looking for someone special.” Those
icy blue eyes turn their full attention to me. He reaches over to tuck
a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
There’s nothing intimate about the touch. Nor is this the first
time, but it doesn’t stop my heart from pounding in my chest. I hope
he can’t tell how I’m fighting to keep my expression neutral while
wondering what it would be like if he kissed me right now. Talk
about inappropriate thoughts to have about my friend. As he pulls
away, I shudder. Embarrassed and trying to cover my tracks, I grab
for the sweater he’s holding in his hands.
“I’m claiming this, Casanova. Why does it have to be so cold
today?” I say, pulling it over my head. The goal had been to turn this
all into a joke and put some distance between us. As the scent of his
soap and smoky aftershave surrounds me, I realize I’ve
miscalculated. The comforting scent only makes me think of him
embracing me.
He looks ready to reprimand me, but he steps back, pretending
to admire the sweater on me. A grin breaks his serious expression.
“It looks much better on you than it does on me. Keep it, you
thief.”
I smile back, and we walk towards the food court, an unspoken
habit we’ve developed after our morning classes are done.
“Did Lisa message you about the bar crawl tomorrow night?”
“She did…” I rush to think of an excuse for why I can’t possibly
go.
“No.” He stops walking, and his hands turn me around so I’m
facing him.
I try to start talking again but he puts a finger over my lips. Any
excuses I had are forgotten. “You have to come.” He takes a step
back, releasing me.
“Why?” I arch a brow defiantly.
He sniffs, insulted I even have to ask. “It’s your duty as our
friend.”
 “My duty is following you guys around and making sure you don’t
get mugged or kidnapped as you all get drunk out of your minds?” I
shake my head. “Will, I really can’t. I have a paper due on Monday.”
“I know you, Charlie. You have the first draft finished already.
Just edit it on Sunday. I promise this time we don’t need you to be
our mom. Just come out and have fun with us.” He’s practically
pouting now. I’ve never been good at resisting him. He senses me
faltering and presses his advantage, leaning forward, saying, “Let
me rephrase that. I won’t take no for an answer.”
A million things are whirling in my head. I want to berate him.
But deep down I know I need a break. I have to remember that
there’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun. If I don’t do it now in
my twenties, when will I ever? “Okay. Fine.”
He lets out a loud whoop of celebration as if he just found out
they canceled exams, earning himself more than a few stares from
passersby.
His smile is triumphant as he whips out his phone to shoot off a
text to the group chat.
Drinks are on Tom tonight.

He pulls me towards him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“He bet I couldn’t get you to come out with us tonight. Sucker.”
“And here I thought you just missed my amazing company,” I
tease, letting out a dramatic sigh.
He pokes my side. “You are amazing, and you don’t need me to
remind you. Stop fishing for compliments or I might downgrade you
to being simply great.”
Usually, I take everything he says with a grain of salt, but today
my emotions—and hormones if I’m being honest—are going
haywire. I can’t help the ache of longing even as I pretend his words
don’t affect me. “Ha. Ha. Okay, now that you’ve completed your
mission, let me see what I can finish in these last few hours.”
He pouts. “But I need you to help me get ready.”
“You want me to be your wingman?”
 “Wing-person,” he corrects, tapping my nose. “I’m all for equal
opportunity. Let’s go now.”
I roll my eyes. “And who made you the boss?”
He gives me a mischievous grin. “I think, therefore I am.”
“Hilarious. Just for that, we are never taking another philosophy
elective again.”
Again with that irritating pout, but I remain firm. Sort of. “Give
me an hour of uninterrupted work, and then maybe we can leave
the library. Can you manage that?”
“Sure.”
Fifteen minutes later, I feel him watching me. I look up, ready to
snap at him, but stop when I see how sweetly he’s studying me.
“Did you know you hold your breath when you’re focusing?” Just
like that, he breaks the spell. “It can’t be good for you.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
“That’s it. Now take another.” He can barely keep from laughing
as he tries to show me how to take deep breaths.
Realizing I’ll get nothing done at this rate, I save my file and start
packing up my stuff. “I demand a latte with an extra shot of
espresso for this. Now let’s go detangle that mess on your head.
While we are at it, maybe we can find you some clothes that actually
fit.”
“What’s wrong with this?” He frowns, looking down at his baggy
brown shirt and khaki shorts.
“It’s not exactly going out material. You can do better.” I don’t tell
him he looks like a paper bag, mostly because people hardly notice
his clothes when his gorgeous features draw their attention.
“You and your high standards.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never
received complaints from anyone else.”
“You’ve never stuck around long enough for them to tell you.”
He places a hand over his heart, insulted. “Says a lot about you
and Lisa, then, doesn’t it?” Without a word, he picks up my heavy
bag and slings it over his shoulder.
“It sure does,” I mutter under my breath as I follow him.
Two
 BEFORE

1 year later

“THOUGHT I’D FIND you hiding out here.”

I jump at the sound of his voice so close to my ear. Tucked away
in the library, I’ve had my earbuds in, listening to music while I go
over my notes.
Looking up, I find Will towering over me, like some lanky giant.
His hair has grown past his shoulders, a tangled mess of curls. The
shirt he wears is another cast-off from his older brother because he
can’t be bothered to buy his own clothes.
I grin up at him. “I waited in the lobby for ten minutes before I
couldn’t take it anymore.”
He nods, ruffling my hair affectionately. “Little mouse scurrying to
her corner.”
My smile falters as I try to ignore the pang in my chest. “You’re
just jealous I get better grades than you.”
He scoffs and pulls up a seat beside me.
“We can’t fit in this cubicle together.” I try to push him away
when his legs press against mine accidentally. He’s too close. I
adjust so there’s some space between us. If he notices, he says
nothing. He’s too busy staring at the papers in front of me.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t make notes,” I frown.
 “Charlie, this is our last term before we graduate. Do you think
I’d be so irresponsible?”
That’s exactly what I think, and his devilish grin as he watches
me tells me he’s unashamed.
“I brought you something.” He pulls out a brown paper bag from
his backpack, placing it on the table in front of me before retrieving
his laptop.
I stare at it suspiciously and twist around to glare at him. “How
long do you think you can get away with bribing me for my notes?”
“Last time, I promise,” he says.
My brow arches. “This is our last exam.”
“Exactly.”
I give him a playful nudge with my elbow. “You’re the worst. You
know that, don’t you?”
“Doesn’t stop you from loving me.” He waves me off.
I ignore the flutter in my chest at his words to peer inside the
bag where I find a tiger brownie—the one treat he knows I can’t
resist. For all his faults, Will is the sort of person who takes his time
to remember mundane things like your coffee order or how you like
your eggs.
Two bites in, I slide my notes towards him. “Aren’t you worried
about what you’ll do when I’m not around?”
“Nah,” he says and without missing a beat adds, “because that’s
simply never going to happen.”
I fight the urge to point out that life might have other plans for
us, but the simple truth is I’d be more than happy to have my tight-
knit group around me forever.
Three hours later, I find the words blending together. I hold the
calculator closer to my face, as if that will make it easier for me to
remember the formula.
Will touches my shoulder. “I think it’s time you call it a day.”
I shake my head. “There’s two more modules to go over.”
“Tomorrow is a new day,” he says, gently pulling my textbook
away from me and snapping it closed before I realize what he’s
done.
 Stubbornness has me reaching for it, but he holds it just out of
reach.
“Come on, Charlie. At least go grab something to eat. Maybe
bring me back some coffee,” he says with a wink.
I blanch. “Shoot! I forgot I told Lisa I’d meet her for dinner.”
“Go,” he urges. “I’ll watch your stuff.”
“You just want to copy all my notes.”
“Guilty as charged. But why not make this a mutually beneficial
agreement?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I stand, wobbling slightly as I realize how
stiff I am from sitting down for hours.
Grabbing my phone and wallet, I make a run for the food court.
Lisa is already there.
“Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time at the library. I swear, Finance
is going to kill me.”
“It’s been good knowing you.” She grins, patting my arm. “I’m so
glad I took it over the summer. Though anthropology is killing me in
a thousand ways too.”
“And here, I remember you being so proud you found a bird
course to help you whizz by in your last semester.” I say as I send a
quick message to Will to check in. I know he wouldn’t abandon my
stuff but…
“The amount of referencing I have to do?” Kat groans. “And the
TAs are so specific about APA style and properly formatted
footnotes.”
“That’s no different from our papers,” I try to point out, but she
gives me a look like I’ve betrayed her.
“They took a mark off because I added an extra space after
footnote numbers. How is that fair? I feel like our profs are more
lenient.”
I shrug. “If you say so. They probably just prioritize other things.
But, hey, attention to detail is important.”
Lisa nudges me. “In case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you
that you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Forgive me,” I say mockingly. “It’s totally unfair.”
“Thank you,” she sniffs.
 We get to the front of the line, and I glance at the menu. For
once, I don’t even care about the cost—I’m starving. I grab a burrito
bowl and a side of waffle fries along with a coke. Lisa has the same
idea. We take our trays and find an empty table to scarf down our
food.
I’ve polished off everything when I lean back patting my belly
with a satisfied groan. “I needed that.”
“I bet you’ve been studying all day,” Lisa says. “And forgot to
break for lunch.”
“I had a snack,” I say, thinking of that tiger brownie and
wondering if I had time to run across campus to the coffee shop that
sells them.
“So. Now that you are fed, I have to ask.” Lisa takes a final sip of
her drink. “Are you coming to England?”
Anxiety tightens its hold on me. “I don’t know.”
“You have to. It’s our last chance.”
“Don’t be dramatic. There will be plenty of time—”
“I’m going to stop you right there. There will never be a better
time to do this. We’ve worked our butts off for four years, we’ve
skimped and saved. We are starting work soon, and our schedules
will be different—and we might end up in different cities. Now is the
easiest time for this to happen—and the most realistic.”
I bite my lower lip, avoiding her insistent gaze. Lisa could be very
persuasive when she wanted to be. She’d be great in sales.
“You will regret it forever if you don’t come,” she says, squeezing
my hand.
“Now you’re just sounding like you’re trying to peer-pressure
me,” I say, but I know my resolve is slipping. I’ve dreamed of going
on a trip like this for ages. With Matt going to Cambridge to do his
masters in actuarial science, this trip is going to be our big send off
to each other—and to him. Plus, free accommodations make it hard
to pass up.
“Don’t make me twist your arm more. If I need to, I will
orchestrate a kidnapping,” Lisa huffs.
“I’d like to see you get through customs doing that.”
She shrugs, looking unconcerned.
 “Fine. I’ll come with you guys. When are you booking
everything?”
She blinks in surprise before a wide grin breaks her serious
expression. I can tell she’s trying hard not to spook me by being
overly excited. “Actually, we are planning on booking everything at
Will’s place tonight around eight, but you know how the guys can
be. Are you really coming? Don’t change your mind, I’ll be
heartbroken.”
I glance at the time. There’s time to squeeze in another module
before eight. “I won’t. Listen, I should run back to the library and
finish up studying. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“See you!” She grins. “Don’t forget to bring your passport!”
I end up doubling-back to the food court to grab Will some fries.
Knowing him, he’s forgotten to eat anything. My heart swells with
excitement as I imagine his face when I tell him I’ve decided to hop
on a plane with them.
It’s hard to keep myself from running up to the third floor and
the study carrel where I left my stuff—and Will. As I round the
corner, I come to a dead stop. Will is there, but he’s not alone.
Marissa, his old fling, is in my seat, her head on his shoulder, his arm
wrapped around her. Irritated to be in this position, I debate if I
should interrupt when she says something. I watch Will pull away
slightly as his hand caresses her face before tilting her head up.
Then his lips capture hers. This is a private moment I shouldn’t have
seen. Taking a step back I hide between the book aisles and wait.
The smell of fries quickly fills the air and I hear him say, “Do you
smell that?”
“Yeah,” Marissa says with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go get something
to eat.”
“No, I can’t. I have wait for Charlie to come back.”
Silence.
“Don’t start,” Will says, his tone stern.
I hear some muffled sounds, then Marissa says, “Okay. Well, I’ll
see you around. Good luck on your exam.”
I watch her heading for the elevators, when I decide I can’t hide
here forever. Emerging from the aisles, I sneak up on Will, plopping
the bag of fries on the table in front of him.
He gives me a quizzical look.
“I didn’t want to interrupt. So I decided the most obvious thing
to do was to hide out among the books like a creeper.”
His laugh makes his whole body shake. He pulls out a chair for
me, and I take a seat, trying to ignore how it’s still warm from the
last girl who sat in it. But that’s different, I remind myself. I’m not
Will’s girlfriend—nor do I want to be. Right?
Reaching into the bag he shoves a handful of fries into his mouth
all at once, letting out a moan. “This is divine. Too bad they’ve
cooled down.”
“They would’ve been fine if you hadn’t been busy making out
with Marissa.”
He has the decency to look sheepish. “I wasn’t aware these were
waiting for me in the rafters otherwise,”—he pauses to eat another
fry—“I may have acted differently.”
“You can call her back, you know. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He waves me away. “Friends are more important. Besides, I
really should focus on this exam so I can get out of here at last.
Wouldn’t want you to leave me behind.” He ruffles his hand through
my hair again while I try unsuccessfully to fend him off.
Now would be the perfect time to tell him about England, but I
find I can’t bring myself to. Besides, he’s right, we should
concentrate on studying.

The club is dark, and the music is so loud it pulsates through my

body. I move to the beat, lost in the excitement and energy all
around me. Lisa throws her arms in the air, somehow looking
fabulous even as she lets loose. We’ve lost the guys somewhere by
the bar.
Lisa leans in. “Incoming,” she says, with a glint in her eyes.
I look over my shoulder to see tall, dark, and handsome
incarnate coming towards me.
 “Hey,” he says, eyes skimming over me.
“Want to dance?” I ask, grabbing his hand. It’s out of character
for me, so I can only blame the two hard ales and vodka shots for
the bravery.
His hand touches my waist, drawing me closer. I wrap my hands
around his neck, our bodies flush against each other. Lisa gives me
the thumbs up and slips away from us.
“Where you from?” he asks, his hands sliding farther down my
back. His eyes are deep brown.
“Jolly old America,” I say in a fake British accent.
The ghost of a smile graces his lips. “So you’re a tourist? Don’t
you know those aren’t allowed in here?”
“Oh?”
He leans in closer to whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll
vouch for you.”
I can smell his cologne. The notes of smokey leather and cedar
make me sigh. “Thanks.”
We keep dancing, then as the song changes, his hand reaches up
to caress my cheek. My head tilts back, and I see the slight hint of a
satisfied smile as his lips descend towards mine. My heart beats
faster. But the kiss never comes. Will has tapped his shoulder.
“What’s your problem?”
“You are,” Will growls out. “Learn to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Didn’t hear her protesting.”
Before this can turn into an all-out brawl, I say a quick apology to
the stranger and grab Will. I’m half dragging him over to the bar. He
keeps looking over his shoulder, eager for a fight.
“What’s your problem?” I cross my arms in front of me.
Will runs a hand through that messy hair of his, looking sheepish.
“He was getting too…”
I shake my head. “Did you see me complaining?”
He looks taken aback.
“I know you are always eager to play the hero, but maybe don’t.
I can take care of myself. You don’t need to step in all the time.”
“I didn’t like it, okay?” he hisses out, matching my anger with his
own. “Maybe I didn’t enjoy seeing you throw yourself at some
random guy like that.”
“You hook up with people all the time.”
“Charlie. I know you. Hook-ups aren’t your thing.”
With the alcohol buzzing in my system, I want to stand my
ground, even though some part of me is thrilled he stepped in.
“According to you. Since when have you turned into such a
misogynist?” I sway on my feet.
“What are you talking about?” His eyes narrow, focusing in on
me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I—I think so.”
“Let’s get back to the hostel,” he says, dropping any pretense of
being angry with me.
“I can go myself. You should stay.”
“Nah. It’s boring here, anyway.”
“You sure?”
Rather than answering, he wraps his hands around my shoulders.
The cool night air hits me with a punch in the gut. I hadn’t realized
how nauseous I was feeling.
“You going to throw up?” Will asks.
I shake my head, but I’m suddenly so glad to be out of there.
Not wishing to prove him right, though, I make sure to add, “But I
knew what I was doing with that guy. I know it’s not my usual MO,
but I was hoping to step out of my comfort zone.”
“Why? Are you unhappy or something?”
“Something like that.” I look at him, his expression full of concern
as he looks down at me, so I have to clarify. “I just mean coming
here has made me realize that this might be my last chance to let
my hair down and break some rules. When we get back, we are
going to leap into adulthood: jobs, bills, student debt,” I say,
shuddering as the wind picks up.
Wordlessly, he shrugs off his jacket and puts it over my
shoulders. Finding the familiar scent comforting, I pull it tight around
me.
Three
 BEFORE

THE HOSTEL COMES into view as we round the corner.

“Let’s keep walking,” I say. The last thing I want now is to climb
into my tiny bed.
“You sure?”
I nod. We wander around until we find a little park and sit on a
bench. It’s just outside a row of pubs, so we laugh and giggle as
drunk people stumble out.
“What’s their story?” I say pointing to two people carrying
another between them.
“Best friends who are desperate to go on a trip somewhere but
couldn’t afford more than a wild night out. They picked the
Ferryman Pub because if you squint your eyes just right and drink
enough pina coladas, you can pretend you are on a beach in the
Caribbean. That one,” he says, pointing to the tall, curvy girl on the
left, “is madly in love with the guy who can’t hold his liquor.”
“Oh?”
“But she can’t tell him because she’s worried how it might make
her friends feel.”
There’s a tightness in my chest, but I chuckle and let out a laugh.
“How do you know that?”
“Because why else would she have sent her date packing to see
her friend home?” he scoffs.
“Maybe she’s just a good person.”
 “Hey, what’s with the arguing? Isn’t this my story?” He turns, and
his face is inches from mine.
“Yeah. Sorry,” I say, rather breathless.
“You know what else?” His eyes spark. “I bet he loves her too but
is just too chicken to say it.”
Blame the alcohol, blame my own repressed feelings but I close
the distance between us. Lips lock onto lips, but it’s not like how I
imagined it. He doesn’t wrap his arms around me to pull me closer.
Quite the opposite he immediately places his hands on my
shoulders, pushing me away. Gently.
“Charlie, how drunk are you?” he whispers.
I give a shake of my head. “Not at all. I’m—I’ve liked you for a
while. Wanted to kiss you.” It’s hard to form coherent sentences.
Especially when I catch his drawn expression. My heart aches with
the sudden realization I’m making a fool of myself. “I thought you
liked me too.”
“Of course. You are my best friend.”
I blink, realizing I need to rescue the situation. “Right, I’m just—”
Pause. “You know what? You’re right. I’ve had too much to drink.” I
slide off the bench.
He follows after me, and I spin around. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you get home safe,” Will says, grabbing the back of
his neck.
I flush bright red. Of course, I was being silly and imagining…
something else. Maybe that he’d stop me and tell me he likes me
too. But this is Will. Chronically noncommittal when it comes to
romance—and my best friend. I feel as though I’m going to puke
and put a hand over my mouth. We walk back in silence. I can’t help
but notice how he’s keeping a careful distance away from me. This
has got to be the most awkward encounter I have ever had with
Will.
The following day, in an effort to avoid him and find some way to
make amends, I slip out of the hostel early in the morning and find a
coffee shop. Grabbing his Americano, I decide to splurge on a sickly-
sweet latte. This is definitely one of those times when I need a pick-
me-up.
 I return to find him waiting outside the hostel, talking to Matt. He
notices me approaching but rather than his usual wave and smile he
gives me a little nod.
I try not to let this affect me.
“Oh, hey, Charlie,” Matt says, looking up from his phone. “Just
planning what we should check out today. Is that for me?” He looks
at the drink in my hand.
“No. But next time,” I say, looking towards Will. “Can I talk to you
for a second?” Seeing him hesitate, I hold up the coffee cup. “Your
favorite: Americano with a splash of cream and two sugars.”
He grins up at me, some of his old self returning as he says,
“How could I resist?” He takes it from me, careful not to let his hand
touch mine. I don’t know why I notice this now—and why, more
importantly, there’s a fresh pang of rejection in my chest.
“We’ll be right back,” I reassure a pouting Matt.
Once we are out of hearing range, I turn to Will, “Listen. Let’s
forget about last night. It was a total mistake. I don’t know what I
was thinking. You are my best friend. I shouldn’t have said or done
anything to risk that. We can do that, right?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him take a deep swig of the
coffee.
“Yeah. Sure.”
Except he doesn’t sound sure.
“Don’t act all weird. It was just one little drunken kiss. We’ve
been friends forever.” I laugh. Do I sound nervous? Desperate? God.
Maybe talking about it was a mistake. But when have I ever kept
things from him?
“Charlie.” He stops, turns to face me full on. “It’s fine. I promise.”
“Good,” I say with a big beaming smile. I have to force my
anxieties down and take him at his word.
The rest of our trip passes by quickly. Our days are full of
sightseeing and exploring. Before we know it, we are back home. It
is then that I notice the way Will keeps pulling away from me. His
texts grow less frequent, and he never comes by to hang out alone.
I meet up with Lisa, and she takes one look at my mopey
expression and cracks open a bottle of wine.
 “What’s going on with you and Will?”
“Why did you bring up Will?”
She gives me a look. “You guys went from inseparable to
avoiding each other. I saw him for lunch, and he had the same,”—
she waves a hand in a circle around my face—“expression as you. I
swear, you two are twins.” She pours me a glass, and I take a sip.
“He’s been distant,” I say with a shrug.
“Did something happen in England?” Lisa asks. She says it in this
nonchalant way that makes me think she knows more than she’s
letting on.
“Yeah. I was stupid. Kissed him and told him I liked him.”
She chokes back a laugh. “Wow. You went for it, huh?”
I grin. “Shocking, right? Wait, why aren’t you surprised?”
Lisa walks around to me and pulls me into a tight hug. “I mean,
I’ve suspected you have a thing for him for a while now. I didn’t
think you’d ever be brave enough to act on it, though.”
Frowning, I pull away. “Come on, I’m not that much of a
coward.”
“No, you aren’t, but…anyway, I gather he didn’t take the
confession well?”
“Clearly. At this point, I just want him back, but I’m also pissed. I
told him to forget about it. Gave him that whole spiel that I was
drunk and didn’t actually mean it.”
Lisa nods along. “Don’t you think that maybe he’s smart enough
to see through your lies?”
Rolling my eyes, I take my wine and flop down on her sofa. “He’s
still a jerk for not talking to me about it. I don’t care if he has major
trust issues—or whatever. Is he really going to push me away over
this? Four years of friendship over just like that?” I snap my fingers
to make a point.
The wine in the glass sloshes dangerously close to the edge.
“Maybe I should take that.” Lisa plucks it out of my hands.
“Listen. Talk to him. I’m sure if you give him some time, he’ll come
around.”
He doesn’t.
 The following day, I convince him to join me for coffee. We are
seated across from each other. The little table between us is
shrinking the longer we stare at each other, not touching our drinks,
not talking. The atmosphere is tense, to say the least.
“What’s been going on with you? With us?” I can’t help the bite
to my words.
His shoulders slump—just a little—before he straightens.
“What do you mean?” he asks. The way he side steps my
questions makes me think he would make a good lawyer. Remaining
calm and talking his way out of sticky situations has always been his
forte.
Still, it irks me how emotionless he is being—that he can be.
Perhaps I’ve misjudged our relationship all these years. That
thought terrifies me more than anything else.
I force myself to smile and say, “You’ve been avoiding me since
we got back. You never come around or text me anymore.” It’s petty
of me, maybe even desperate, to say it out loud. But when have I
ever cared how I come across to him?
“I’ve been busy. Applying to jobs, trying to get my shit together.”
I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. I owe him that, don’t
I? Slowly, I nod.
“I could see if Sutherland is hiring,” I say. My official start date is
in two weeks, but already I’ve been by the offices for a tour and a
meeting with HR.
“That’s unnecessary.” His tone is clipped.
I raise an eyebrow at that and pull my coffee towards me,
stirring it absentmindedly. For the first time since I’ve met him, I find
myself at a loss for what to say to Will. The silence stretches
uncomfortably.
“As long as we are good. Can you tell me what’s going on with
you? You are in a foul mood.”
I catch the way his lips purse slightly. “Nothing. Listen, I’d better
go. I need to—”
“Will, seriously?” I hiss. “Don’t play games with me. I know I
fucked up that night. It meant nothing. Why can’t we just go back to
the way things were?”
 “Because that’s not how life works, Charlotte.” His eyes are cold.
I don’t remember the last time he called me Charlotte. It stings. He’s
pushing me away, and I don’t know how to stop him.
“Don’t be condescending,” I shoot back. “I’m not some naïve
idiot.”
He pushes his chair back.
I let out a quiet laugh. “That’s right, Will, do what you always do
when things get tough. Run. Run away.”
He looks shocked, as if I’ve struck him hard across the face. As if
to prove me wrong, he leans forwards, “If that night meant nothing
to you, you wouldn’t be so hurt by my rejection. Who’s the one
doing the running here? I don’t need this. Not now.”
He stands. I’m still gaping as he marches out of the cafe, leaving
me blushing red from embarrassment.
“Goodbye to you too,” I whisper.

Stubbornly I refuse to reach out to him. If I know he is going to be

somewhere, I avoid going. If we run into each other, I avoid him. In
my head, he should approach me and apologize, but of course, he
appears to be just as keen to avoid me as I am him.
It is foolish and childish.
I am proud, and he has hurt me more than I will admit.
Just as easily as we fell into friendship, we fall into anonymity.
Then, as our paths begin to cross at conferences and networking
events, it flares into hate fueled by competitive ambition.
Something I regret, especially as he takes to the podium and his
eyes lock onto mine.
Four
 PRESENT DAY

“THANK YOU, AMANDA,” Will says. His voice has a deep

timbre, familiar yet unrecognizable all at once.
I blink. I haven’t been paying attention to what Amanda,
someone from Blue Ridge, has been saying at all.
“Edgar, the head of finance, couldn’t be here today,” Will goes on
to say. “So he has asked me to step in and read his prepared
remarks.”
I wondered why he is here today when the rest of the people
present from Blue Ridge Investment Group are high-level executives.
Still, does that mean he’s highly regarded by the head of finance,
enough to be trusted with this, or is he being labeled as a potential
successor? Possibilities swirl through my head, and my
competitiveness rears its ugly head as he clears his throat and reads
off the speech.
“As we complete our acquisition of Sutherland, we want
operations to continue without disruption. Our priority is to absorb
Sutherland into Blue Ridge as smoothly and quickly as possible.”
My brow arches. It’s very clear that Blue Ridge is not even going
to pretend this was a friendly acquisition. I suppose if the rumors of
Sutherland’s insolvency already leaked to the press, then it doesn’t
matter.
“We value maintaining high customer trust and satisfaction.
While this may bring some changes, I want to emphasize that we
are still the same team, working towards the same goals.”
 Changes? This is always code for layoffs. I share a look with
Taylor, who gives a disheartened shrug.
“The acquisition of Sutherland brings together two groups of
talented individuals, and we believe that ultimately this will result in
a stronger organization. We wish to assure you of Blue Ridge’s
commitment to a smooth transition for everyone involved.”
“We understand that some of you may have concerns about what
this means for your role, or even your team.” Will’s eyes catch mine,
but I could just be imagining things.
“We will work closely with the management team to provide
more information and answer questions you may have. Now I’m
going to turn it over to Greg, our head of HR, who can better explain
the details of the transition.”
Light applause comes from Sutherland’s team of executives.
The conversation goes into the details now. They assure us IT is
working on restoring access to our computers once they’ve finished
integrating our system into Blue Ridge’s.
“Over the next week, we will do an intensive audit of all your
portfolios to make sure everything is as it should be. Following this,
you can expect meetings with management as we learn everyone’s
strengths and weaknesses,” Greg says, his tone monotone as his
gaze scans the room. Maybe he’s already begun sniffing out
weakness. “Please enjoy this short welcome video.”
There’s a collective groan as the projector lowers from the
ceiling. I shift my weight from one foot to the other. I can’t believe
they didn’t put out chairs for us.
All I can think of is what rotten luck I have to be here right now.
I know enough about company mergers to know my job is on the
line. Shutting my eyes, I think about my 401k and Sutherland’s
generous health benefits package. It doesn’t help the growing panic
rising in my throat. I spent years building up my reputation here,
and then when I was put in charge of my team…well, I’m not about
to walk away from all that. I worked too damned hard.
I open my eyes and look towards the front of the room and the
executives there. How do I feel about working with Will? There’s a
twist in my gut at the mere thought of being in the same building as
him day in and day out. It’s childish, but more than anything else, I
hate awkward encounters. What will it be like to work with him?
Maybe I’ll be lucky, and he won’t be involved at all. Maybe after all
of this is done, he will disappear into the old Blue Ridge offices—and
I’ll never have to see him again.
But when have I ever been that lucky?
At last, after NDAs are passed around for us to sign, they release
us.

In my career, I have overseen several mergers. Some were hostile

takeovers, some were not. What never changed was the clinical way
I approached each deal. I have never looked beyond the paperwork
and the numbers to the people left to sort out the mess.
Watching a team of Blue Ridge analysts sift through my files and
grill me on the nitty-gritty details of my work before packing
everything away into boxes feels a bit like being punched in the gut.
Was I ever this heartless? Probably.
That is the nature of this industry.
Every day is like stepping onto a battlefield. Allies are ready to
abandon you at the first sign of trouble. Slacking off means giving
your coworker the opportunity to nab one of your clients. That
promotion you were angling for? Forget about it. In the investment
world, trust is a word you quickly erase from your vocabulary.
You can only rely on yourself in this shark-eat-shark world. Some
can’t take the pressure, the long hours and the cutthroat nature of
the job. I thrive. The only thing that matters is the numbers.
Numbers are the one constant comfort that can’t lie. They tell
you all you need to know. If a business is failing, stagnating, or
growing, the numbers will tell you. If someone was doctoring the
books, or if executives are spinning stories to gloss over their
company’s failings, the numbers will tell you.
My ability to look past all the fluff is what fast tracked my career
so that at thirty, I’ve become a junior associate.
 Yet, it’s still jarring to watch as an intern brings in empty boxes,
and I watch all my work disappear into them.
“Once they are scanned and reviewed, you will get them back,”
an analyst says without looking up from his computer.
I nod, unable to shake the feeling that I’m losing a part of
myself.
Despite the impenetrable stares and silence from the Blue Ridge
team, the higher-ups must’ve been impressed with me because I
survive the first round of layoffs.
And the second.
For all that, I feel unsteady. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, the
carpet has literally been pulled from underneath me. The new floor
is a hard tile, and I find it off-putting how loud I am walking around
my office. That’s not all they’ve changed. The Sutherland logos have
been torn out, and they’ve removed the furniture before beginning
to paint. New York real estate is expensive, and breaking leases is
hard, but with all the changes I wonder if it would’ve been easier for
them to move us to an entirely new building.
Ever since the renovations began, I start off my morning,
disoriented by the smell of fresh paint that hits my nose when I
walked through the double doors. The beige and brown of
Sutherland has been replaced by the bright silvers, grays, and blues
of Blue Ridge. It’s an assault on my senses.
While everything is being rearranged, I’m set up in a tiny office,
and I spend my days fielding calls and reassuring clients that
business is continuing as usual.
I’m growing envious of my former coworkers who were sent
packing. But this nomadic existence in the office ends the following
Monday.
They email all associates to meet in the Opal Room. There are no
details about what we will discuss, but I have a feeling we’ll finally
be reassigned to offices—and accounts.
I arrive dressed for war, in a tailored black suit, simple diamond
studs in my ears, and my hair pulled back in a ponytail.
The scent of coffee is heavy in the air as I walk into the room. It
mixes with the acrid chemical odor of the fresh paint, making my
eyes water.
On the far side of the room, they have set up a coffee station
with a variety of snacks and cups for us to use.
I pour myself some coffee and I’m tearing into one of the sugar
packets when he walks in. Unprepared to run into him today, I want
to sink into the floor and disappear. I can’t look away as he makes
his way to an empty seat, greeting colleagues as he goes. There’s
nothing special about him. Not his pressed suit, not his perfectly
styled hair. Then our eyes meet across the room. Is that a look of
surprise flicking across his features? Before I can be accused of
staring, I turn my back to him, the stale donuts and cookies on the
table suddenly fascinating. I make a promise to myself that I will
forget I ever knew Will Scott. We will be nothing more than new
coworkers. Maybe in time, one of us will leave Blue Ridge, and then
we can go back to randomly stumbling across each other at large
conferences. Resolve keeps my face blank as I take a seat tucked
away in the corner, out of his line of sight.
Edgar, the executive director of finance, enters the room. His
very presence sucks the air out of the space—or it feels like it as we
all collectively hold our breath, not daring to exhale in case that
small noise draws his ire.
He takes a seat at the head of the table, and Will moves seats to
the opposite side of the table, five people down from me. He looks
up, his blue eyes piercing mine. There’s nothing about him that
should draw my attention. He doesn’t stand out from any of the
others in the room, yet I’m actively fighting the urge to look his way
and wonder what he is thinking. Rather than getting lost in the
what-ifs, I focus my attention on Edgar, who is staring at a folio in
front of him, as if he wasn’t the one who just called a meeting. I try
to give Edgar my full attention, but I can’t help but glance around
the room at the others.
No one says anything.
It’s ridiculous. He could be reading a magazine for all we know,
and we’d still be sitting on the edge of our seats in case he decides
to notice us.
 At last, Edgar clears his throat. “I’m very pleased by Sutherland’s
performance. Despite your former CEO, everything seems to be in
tip-top shape.”
I look around, counting out how many Sutherland associates are
left from the two rounds of layoffs. Less than half, by my estimation.
“However, Blue Ridge is not Sutherland. We value you all as
potential employees. But consider the next six months as a
probation period.”
I fight the urge to frown.
“There’s also going to be some restructuring. So your old clients
and portfolios might move around.” Edgar delivers this news as if it’s
not the most devastating thing he could say.
I glance around at the Blue Ridge associates. They look like
vultures circling above a carcass.
“While we trust all of you to catch up to Blue Ridge’s exacting
standards. We aren’t cruel enough to just throw you to the wolves.
For this merger to succeed, we need to ensure we can all learn to
work together.”
I feel Will’s gaze on me.
“That’s why we’ve decided to partner you up as we go through
these growing pains together.”
Someone snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough. Edgar is
less than pleased by the interruption.
Someone else raises his hand. One of the Blue Ridge associates,
who is used to Edgar’s eccentricities.
“Yes?”
“How long will we be required to babysit?”
That earns him a lot of scowls from the former Sutherland
employees. I glare too.
“For the duration of the probationary period. Now, let’s go
through all the accounts and divvy up everything.”
My foot is tapping under the table. The moment I’ve been
dreading.
Edgar goes through the list alphabetically. All I can think of is
how I spent the last few days schmoozing clients I might no longer
have. In my distraction, I haven’t been paying attention to who is
being paired off. So when my name comes up in the same breath as
Will Scott’s, I freeze.
“Ms. Stanley, do you care to introduce yourself?” Edgar asks.
My stunned expression gives away that I haven’t been paying
attention. “Of course,” I say, leaning forward, trying to be the picture
of a calm and collected professional.
“I’m Charlotte Stanley. In my seven years at Sutherland, I went
from analyst to junior associate. I oversaw GIC’s IPO and have built
close relationships with other green energy companies. I have also
been closely monitoring the manufacturing and tech industries—”
“That sure sounds like you’ve had a lot on your plate,” Edgar
says, interrupting as he flicks through his notebook.
My mouth goes dry. The Blue Ridge associates look like they’ve
struck gold.
“At Blue Ridge, we like our associates to specialize in one field.
Having your fingers in too many pies—”
“With all due respect, I have never heard any complaints or failed
—”
“Which is exactly why you are still here with us, Ms. Stanley.”
There’s an edge of warning to Edgar’s tone that reminds me I
cannot afford to lose my job right now.
“As I was saying. At Blue Ridge, we do things differently. Paul, I
think Ferrous Manufacturing is just up your alley. Charlotte, you can
make the introductions. Assure them that the transition will change
nothing.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek. That is exactly what I have
already assured them of—but now I will have to get them to buy
that some stranger can just swoop in and take over.
Paul leans back in his seat, sending a toothy grin in my direction.
“I specialize in the manufacturing sector. No need to get all
upset.”
Edgar clears his throat to go on, and any further retort dies on
my lips. I listen as my portfolio is dwindled down to almost nothing.
I might as well go start from scratch at a new firm now.
“You’ll be under Will Scott’s supervision. He’s one of our best. I’m
sure you will make her feel welcome, right Will?”
 Will eyes me. He looks about as thrilled by this news as I am.
Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be the one to leave first. One can only
hope.
“Of course.”
“Excellent.” Edgar claps him on the back. “Now let’s move on to
Doris Whey.”
My mind drifts as Edgar rambles on and tears into all the
Sutherland associates’ portfolios. I shouldn’t feel so attached to any
of them, but here it is. Injustice is a bitter pill to swallow. But I
shouldn’t be surprised. This is how the game is played.
I just have to stick it out. Even though I am being saddled with
Will Scott. Not that it matters—I try to reassure myself of this a bit
too much.
The meeting is adjourned. A secretary hands us each an
envelope with new keycards and a note directing us to our new
offices.
“Welcome to Blue Ridge,” Edgar says, getting to his feet.
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