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They walked down the carpeted hallway, in the opposite direction from where Isaac had run, and through a small corridor. A few minutes later, they stopped in front of a door with no nameplate. It was constructed of heavy wood and there was a thin plane of glass running vertically down one side of the door, the view through which was obstructed by cardboard.
“I think my father has made a mistake. We use this room for file storage.”
Felicia’s hand shook a little as she placed it on the knob and turned. “I don’t understand this,” she shrieked.
Autumn stepped into the small but clean room. Two rusty gray file cabinets lined one wall, one of which was graced with a plastic houseplant that had lost most of its leaves. The old-fashioned metal desk had a couple of beat-up chairs in front of it. On the desk was one of those spotlight lamps, the kind with the lightbulb that burned so hot it could singe anything that got to close to it.
Clearly, the room had been hastily furnished with some vintage finds from somebody’s attic or basement. A laptop was the only modern thing in the whole place.
Autumn walked around the desk and set down the stack of papers she was lugging around, as well as her purse. Then she sat in the vintage wooden chair and spun around to face Felicia, who was still by the door.
“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed with a broad smile. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s...it’s...ugly,” Felicia sputtered. “The furnishings are horrendous, not at all what we have in the other offices. Not to mention the fact that this is a file room and no one but me is supposed to be in here.”
Felicia looked out into the hallway before she moved deeper inside the room and looked around. “But where are all the files?” she wailed, her eyes wide to the whites. “This room was nearly filled with boxes and now there are only about half left.”
Hopefully, only the ones I need for the investigation, Autumn thought, snickering inwardly.
Sterling may be a grump, but he was turning out to be very, very handy.
Felicia walked up to the desk and planted her hands on her hips. “I’m sure this is only a temporary office,” she said with a note of derision. “There must be some issue with getting your cubicle ready on the second floor. I’ll speak to my father and we’ll get this matter straightened out right away.”
Autumn nodded and tugged on the middle drawer of her desk. “Sounds good.” The drawer stuck, so she tugged even harder and when she finally managed to pull it open, the metal on metal scraped together so loudly that Felicia covered her ears.
The drawer was well stocked with office supplies. Another plus for Sterling. She grabbed the first pen she saw and quickly uncapped it. “I’ll get started on that paperwork now and will have it to you by lunch, okay?”
“Fine,” Felicia snapped, looking over her shoulder again, as if she was expecting someone. “I should have this work space issue corrected by then.”
Autumn rose and went to the door, feigning eagerness to finally start her first day on the job, in the hopes that Felicia would leave. “Thanks for all your help. I’ll drop by your office in a couple of hours.”
She leaned against the jamb and watched as Felicia suddenly hurried down the hall as fast as her stiletto heels could take her. The woman seemed genuinely distraught and confused about the whole situation. She was about to shut the door when she looked up and suddenly realized why.
Isaac Mason’s office was directly opposite hers.
* * *
Isaac smoothed one hand over his close-cropped hair and then got to work reknotting his tie. It was almost noon and he’d made it through his morning meetings, his clients were happy, and there were no frantic phone calls from his children.
Like one of his favorite rappers once said, “It’s been a good day.” But Isaac knew it was long from over.
He wasn’t happy about what Sterling had asked him to do, but if he wanted to make partner, he had no choice.
With his tie neatened to his satisfaction, he took one last glance in the mirror, ignoring the rumble in his belly and hammering of his heart.
It’s just lunch, he told himself, and Autumn’s just another coworker. But he knew she was more than that, or at least he wished she could be.
Isaac walked over to his desk and password-protected his computer. After glancing out his office window, he opened the door and was shrugging into his coat when Autumn stepped out of the opposite office.
“Well, hello!” she greeted him.
Isaac pulled on the lapels of his coat. “What are you doing in there?” he asked, pointing his finger at the closed door. “That’s the file room.”
She gave him a cheery smile. “It’s my office now.”
Before he could ask any more questions, she started to walk away.
“Where are we going to lunch? The cafeteria? Because I’m starved.”
The thought of food was distracting enough without having to watch her sumptuous bottom sway down the hall and not be able to cradle it in his hands. During his morning meetings, his mind had wandered into random thoughts of her—a kind of subtle curiosity that would only be satisfied by seeing and feeling this woman who could never be his, except in his dreams.
“Um. N-no,” he stuttered, feeling a little like Clark Kent chasing Lois as he quickly moved beside her. “I thought we’d go somewhere a little quieter. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“Sounds serious. Is everything all right?”
“No, but it will be.”
It has to be, Isaac thought. He had to find a way to get back into Sterling’s good graces again. If he could pull this off, he’d make partner for sure.
He leaned against the wall as they waited for the elevator and admired the clean lines of the soft gray coat she wore. Tailored at the waist, it accentuated her trim figure and ended midthigh, which suited him just fine. The more leg she revealed the better, and from where he stood, Lord knows she had two mighty fine ones.
Damn.
There were thousands of women in New York, and the only one that had piqued his interest was off-limits and off-the-chain gorgeous.
Isaac cleared his throat and turned away before his lower body gave away his thoughts.
“It was snowing earlier. Better button up.”
Autumn nodded. “Good idea.”
Except for the occasional screech from the elevator cables, they rode down in silence until Autumn started to giggle.
He shifted his feet. “What’s so funny?”
Autumn pressed her lips together and finished buttoning her coat. “I was just remembering the look on Felicia’s face when she saw I had the office opposite yours. She was so pissed. I wonder why?”
Isaac knew why, but he wasn’t about to say anything. It was embarrassing enough how Felicia had thrown herself at him, luring him into that very room, where she was hidden among the boxes, stark naked.
He shuddered at the memory. Although he didn’t have a type, per se, Felicia definitely wasn’t it.
Now Autumn, on the other hand, was a different story. He’d only met her a few hours ago and already he was entertaining fantasies of a hot and heavy office romance. Whether this sudden lust was the result of a lack of coffee, fumes of sleep or zero sex, he couldn’t pinpoint. But if it involved two hearts possibly getting broken, one of them being his, he wasn’t about to take the risk.
The cold January air was like a rude slap in the face as they walked out of the Paxton Building. The winds didn’t help, either. The weatherman that morning had said they were blowing out of the northeast, but they felt like they were from Antarctica and their new home was in the bones of everyone who had ventured outside.
“Wh-where are we headed? I—I’m freezing already!” Autumn ground out through chattering teeth.
Isaac pulled up the collar of his black wool coat.
“Not far, just a few blocks.”
They joined the throng of people huddled against the chill and walked south, passing a variety of street vendors braving the cold and selling gloves, hats and scarves plastered with “NYC.”
“Toasties! Toasties! Two for a dollar,” cried one enterprising man. His West African lilt was as welcome as the little hand warmers he was selling.
Isaac stopped and bought four of them. He gave the guy a fifty-dollar bill and told him to keep the change.
“For the way back,” he said, giving a pair to Autumn.
He wished he could warm up her hands in his own way, but these would have to do.
Her grateful smile was all the warmth he needed. He’d almost forgotten how nice it felt to give to someone other than his children.
“Thanks. This wind is a killer. I forgot my gloves this morning. First-day jitters, I guess.”
A minute later, they arrived at Le Jardin Rouge, a popular Wall Street restaurant that was anything but French. As soon as they walked in, the din and clamor of spirited conversation floated around them.
Autumn looked around and Isaac could tell she wanted to cover her ears.
“You call this quiet?”
Isaac held up his hand as a waiter approached with a couple of menus.
“Mr. Mason, hello again. I have your regular table.”
He led them through a narrow hallway, past the kitchen, to a single room in the back.
Inside was a linen-covered table with two chairs and a fire roaring in the fireplace. They hung their coats on the two porcelain-tipped hooks on the wall and sat down.
“Thanks, Eric. Give us a moment, will you?”
After the waiter left, Isaac smiled and handed Autumn her menu.
“All better?” he asked, gesturing toward the low flames roaring in the fireplace.
Autumn nodded and moved her chair into place. “Much. And I can barely hear the other customers all the way back here.”
“Yes, I often bring clients by for lunch or when I need to get away from the office, I just come here by myself and work. It’s got a ton of character, no?”
“It’s lovely!” Autumn rubbed her hands together in front of the fire. “What’s good here?”
“Everything, mostly. The butternut squash soup is my favorite, especially on a chilly day like today. It’ll help warm us both up.”
The waiter entered the room with two bottles of mineral water. Isaac ordered the soups and a couple of side salads.
“That was awesome what you did back there,” Autumn remarked, unfolding her napkin. “For me and for that vendor.”
She poured her water into her glass and took a sip. “And here I thought all men who worked on Wall Street were ruthless penny-pinchers.”
Isaac felt the blood rush to the tips of his ears, something that happened whenever he was either very embarrassed or very angry. In this case, her compliment pleased him, but he merely shrugged.
He squeezed a lemon into his water. “Contrary to popular belief, I can be a nice guy. But in order to make money in this town, one can’t be afraid to push past boundaries and take risks.”
“Even when it involves breaking the law?”
Her question wasn’t posed in an accusatory tone. Still, it was unsettling and left a metallic taste in his mouth. Isaac was glad when the waiter approached the table with a basket of bread and their salads.
When they were alone again, Isaac asked, “Have you ever heard of the saying ‘Whoever controls the money makes the rules?’”
Autumn buttered her bread and nodded.
He took a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s true.”
And he was living it. Or at least he used to...
The meetings to which he was mysteriously not invited, the silence that often befell a room whenever he walked in, and the opportunities for new client business that lately seemed to go to someone else or he never even heard about in the first place.
He was the wealthiest senior investment banker on staff. In fact, he made more money in his yearly bonuses than in his regular salary. But, lately, it seemed as if everyone was treating him like some runny-nosed intern.
Isaac kept thinking the cold-shoulder treatment from Sterling and the other staff was because he was being groomed for the responsibilities of becoming an executive partner, where there was less day-to-day trading and managing clients and more focus on higher-level investment strategy for the firm overall.
There was something wrong going on at Paxton, something he didn’t understand, but he wasn’t ready to believe that the something wrong could be him.
“So are you saying it’s okay to look the other way?” Autumn pressed. Her brown eyes seemed as intense as the flames warming the room.
“Sometimes,” he cautioned. Autumn’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and she seemed disappointed with his answer. “But only until one is sure that pursuing it means a net gain for both parties,” he added, not wanting to upset her.
Autumn rolled her eyes and speared a piece of romaine. “You sound like one of my old bosses. Every question I asked the guy, the answer he would give me would sound like it came out of a textbook for Economics 101.”
Isaac laughed, almost spitting out the water he was in the middle of drinking.
“I’m that bad, huh?”
Autumn munched on her salad and nodded.
“In that case, maybe I should quit investment banking and become a professor.”
She swallowed and pointed her fork at him. “Maybe you should,” she advised, her tone serious. “But not before you tell me why you invited me to lunch.”
Autumn pursed her lips into a pouty smile that nearly teased him to distraction, and he realized that he felt so comfortable with her that he’d nearly forgotten the reason he’d invited her to the restaurant in the first place.
“Ah yes,” he said, as the waiter arrived with two steaming bowls of soup. “We have an assignment.”
“What do you mean by ‘we’?” Autumn asked. “I thought you said that the analysts and investment and trading guys never worked together. Something about conflict of interest?”
Isaac nodded. “We usually don’t. But this assignment came direct from Sterling, so I don’t ask questions. He must have his reasons for wanting to do it this way.”
She blew on her spoon and swallowed some soup. “Mmm...this is delicious. Okay, so what do we need to do?”
