Page 43 of Anti-Hero

I can handle Professional Kit. And I’m an expert at managing Obnoxious Kit. But I’m defenseless against Considerate Kit, it turns out.

I need to get out of this car—now.

Why am I still in this car? We’ve been parked for ten minutes.

“You too. I mean, me too.” I fumble with the handle out of sheer self-preservation, sucking in a deep breath when fresh air invades the car. I climb out, then reach down to retrieve my bag from the footwell. “Thanks for the ride.”

I can’t remember if I said that already. My entire head’s a jumble.

“You’re welcome.” His tone is casual, his elbow propped on the door.

Unaffected.

I wish I were too.

I hurry toward the entrance of my building, discreetly kicking the stone out of the doorframe and making a show of retrieving my keys from my bag in case Kit is waiting. It’ll get colder soon, putting an end to that practice.

There’s a credit card statement and a postcard from Jane in my mailbox. I smile at the postcard and tuck the bill in my bag to deal with later. Before I head up the stairs, I glance out the glass door.

The curb isn’t empty yet.

I swallow hard, then start up the steps to my apartment.

11

“What do you think, Kit?”

I glance up from the doodles I was drawing in the margins of the outline at Glenn—my least favorite member of the team my father assembled for the Beauté acquisition. The team I’m supposed to lead, not zone out on. I think most of Glenn’s unpleasantness is rooted in his resentment that I’m a year younger and his superior, and I’m essentially proving his point by not paying attention.

I look back down at the outline, pretending to contemplate an answer. Outof the corner of my eye, I catch Levi Jenkins’s pen tapping the fifth bullet point—long-term outlook.

My eyes dart back to Glenn. He’s sitting right beneath the clock, and I fight a grimace when I see it’s already ten past five.

“I think that discussing Beauté’s long-term outlook can wait until Monday,” I state. “Enjoy the weekend, everyone.”

Everyone—with the exception of Glenn—smiles and stands, relieved the long meeting is finally ending. Glenn closes his binder with a disgruntled frown before exiting the conference room. Guess he doesn’t have any fun Friday night plans.

“Thanks,” I tell Levi, who’s draining the remnants of a coffee.

He lowers the cup and grins. “No problem. Have a good one, Kit.”

“You too,” I reply, tucking my leather portfolio under one arm and heading in the opposite direction from everyone else. None of them have offices on this floor.

I can’t decide if I want Collins to still be at her desk or not. It’s Friday—her date with Perry. If she’s so eager to see him that she left on time for once, that’ll suck. If she’s still here, I’ll have opportunities to say shit I shouldn’t.

Her desk is empty, but she isn’t gone for the day. Her water bottle is still on her desk, and the computer screen is unlocked.

I open the portfolio on the counter that surrounds her desk and pull out the materials from today’s meeting. Rather than leave them there the way I normally would, I round the side of the counter and yank the filing cabinet open. Everything’s neatly labeled, so it only takes me a few seconds to find the correct folder and add today’s packet.

“Taking over for your assistant, Kit?” Andy Sanborn—one of the board members and the occupant of the office a couple down frommine—pauses in the hallway. He’s headed out for the day, briefcase in hand.

I chuckle, shutting the cabinet. “Not exactly.”

“Your father was the same way. No job too small for Crew. You’re a chip off the old block.”

I force a smile and a nod.

Andy’s a nice guy, and he’s trying to pay me a compliment. But I’m not sure why it rarely occurs to anyone that constant comparisons to my father get old. They have dwindled since I started at least. No one has mentioned how my office belonged to my dad this week.

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