Page 22 of For the Plot
“Finally met a person you couldn’t charm a deal out of?”
“Yeah, my ex. It was a joint account that he had set up. So naturally, when we broke up, I lost those privileges. And with getting fired, I wasn’t exactly in the best financial position to be paying for a premium gym membership.” I focus on the pen I don’t remember picking up, twirling it between my fingers. “And even though with what you pay me here, I could afford it, the thought of working out at the same gym as him and risk running into him?” I huff, letting out a half snort in the process. “Uh… no, thank you.”
Reece doesn't reply right away, and when I glance up, his eyes are narrow, his jaw tight. But I see it, the flicker of something in his eyes.
“Oh my God.” I snap out of it, dropping the pen and refocusing my attention on my computer. “I’m sorry, I was just rambling.”
He doesn’t respond right away, but the silence feels… intentional. Not awkward. Not dismissive. Suddenly I remember feeling that same cold stare the few times I saw him when visiting Archer.
I keep my eyes glued to the screen, pretending to dive into the next calendar update, letting the moment drift quietly into the background where it can’t haunt me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shift. He lingers for half a second, like he might say something, but then he turns and walks back into his office without a word, the door clicking gently shut behind him.
I release the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and focus on the glow of my monitor, willing my pulse to even out.
By the time afternoon hits, I’m wilting. The office is gorgeous, but whoever designed the HVAC system clearly never considered that silk blouses and anxiety sweats don’t mix well. I’ve been subtly fanning myself with folders for the last hour, but it’s not helping.
Sweat beads at my hairline. My blouse is sticking to my back. I glance toward Reece's office. His door is closed, and I can hear the low murmur of another call. I stand up, leaning past the wall of the alcove to glance down the long, expansive hallway that leads to the elevators. There’s nobody in sight.
"Screw it," I mutter and reach for the top button of my blouse.
Just one. Then two. Then a third. The relief is immediate. The cool air hits my chest, my breathing finally feeling less restricted. I grab the small desk fan someone thoughtfully left for me and angle it directly at my face, closing my eyes as the artificial breeze dries the moisture from my skin.
"Much better," I whisper to myself, leaning into the fan's path.
That's when I hear the door open.
"Skye, I need you to—" Reece's voice cuts off abruptly.
My eyes snap open. He's standing in the doorway of his office, one hand still on the handle, his gaze fixed directly on my unbuttoned blouse that leaves my breasts very clearly exposed in my sheer lace bra.
His expression is shockingly unreadable, but there's a slight tightening around his eyes. I freeze. I’ve gotten myself into a decent amount of embarrassing situations in my life—it’s par for the course when you speak before you think—but this… this might be the most absolutely insane situation I have ever gotten myself into.
"Is your shirt undone?" he asks, his voice carefully neutral when his eyes finally manage to find mine again. Heat floodsmy cheeks, not from the temperature this time, but from pure mortification.
"Yes! Oh my God, yes, but I was sweating so much and the AC up there"—I gesture wildly at the vent above my head—"it's like it's broken or something, and this blouse is silk which seemed like a good idea this morning but now I'm basically wearing a portable greenhouse, and I found this fan and I just needed to cool down for a second because I was literally melting and?—"
He holds up a hand, and I immediately shut up, my fingers fumbling to rebutton my shirt.
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth but he doesn’t let it take hold. Instead, he cocks his head, taking a step closer to my desk and sending my already racing heart into panic attack zone.
"This behavior wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with why you got fired from your last job, would it?"
The words hit like a slap. My face goes from pink to crimson in about two seconds flat. "Oh my God, no!" I practically shriek, my hands freezing mid-button. "I would never—that's not—I'm not some office exhibitionist!"
His expression immediately shifts from amused to panicked. "Shit, I'm sorry. That was just a joke. A terrible joke. I didn't mean— It was unprofessional, I’m sorry."
We stare at each other across the space, both of us clearly horrified by how that just went. The silence stretches, thick with embarrassment and the hum of my desk fan, which suddenly sounds obscenely loud.
I finish buttoning my shirt with shaking fingers, my face still burning. "I should… I should probably go to the restroom and—" I gesture down my body, unsure of what I’m even trying to say.
"Right," he says quickly, then clears his throat. "The building runs warm; it’s all these glass windows. I'll have facilities look at the AC."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak without saying something else mortifying.
He takes a step back toward his office, then pauses. "For what it's worth, I've seen worse first-week adjustments." And then he disappears back into his office, closing the door with a soft click.
I drop my head into my hands and groan because I very much doubt anyone else has ever flashed their new boss and ex’s dad on their first day. Maya is going to have a field day with this. I lock the bathroom door behind me like it's going to hold back the emotional avalanche currently brewing in my chest.
