I draft an e-mail, attach the PowerPoint and hit send. And that’s when the nerves hit. I don’t know what to do with myself. At first, I sit and stare at my computer screen, biting a stray hangnail and bouncing my knee up and down. I refresh my e-mail several times, hoping a reply from my boss will magically come through if I will it hard enough. Instead, on the fifth refresh, I get an e-mail from Hudson.
Seeing his name come up on the screen now makes me feel conflicted. On the one hand, he’s still very much my adversary in this fight for the project lead role. We made that clear with each other. We’re both in it to win it, and it matters to both of us for very valid reasons. Reasons we can each respect. But on the other hand, the feelings I’ve been having for him are feeling less and less like anger and resentment.
It would be stupid, right? To let myself revisit the past like this. But the way my heart flip flops when I see his e-mails, his texts, or look into his eyes …
I stare at his name for a minute longer, trying to make sense of the excitement I feel about opening it. The subject line reads:Let’s get ready to ruuuuummmble!
I click on his name and the e-mail opens. When it does, a giant image fills my screen. It’s a poster that looks like it’s advertising a pro-wrestling match.Miller vs. Landry, it reads. Hudson has very sloppily edited both of our faces onto sweaty, chiselled bodies. He’s conveniently chosen an old picture of me, one where I still have braces. Probably because he doesn’t have any recent ones and couldn’t get one without it being obvious that he creeped my social media.
A giggle slips out of my throat. Leave it to Hudson to turn an important town meeting into something like this. For a moment, I forget about what tonight means for me. I forget that if I don’t get this project lead role under my belt, I could lose this promotion to Brody.Gag.And that would mean having to tell my family I’m still just a senior engineer.Double gag. While Claire gets her coveted emergency medical director position at her hospital.Puke.
For a moment, I forget it all. And all I can think about is how nice it feels to be having fun with Hudson again. Ribbing each other and getting under each other’s skin.
The feeling only lasts a moment, because my computer dings with an incoming e-mail from Rick.
Wren,
This is not the direction we agreed upon for the project. VanTek has a reputation to uphold and this is not our standard of work. I suggest you revisit our most successful projects and align your design with those if you want an honest shot at this promotion.
Rick
My heart sinks. All the time and effort I put into my design is now wasted. It was all for nothing if Rick is going to force my hand like this. I wish I could say this is the first time he’s made my life difficult, but he micromanages me in a way that he never does with any of the other engineers. Almost like he doesn’t want to see me succeed. And I won’t, at this rate. He’s turned this into a lose-lose situation.
All I can do now is hope people will be impressed by my initial concept, which means it’s back to the drawing board, and I have a lot of ground to cover tonight if I’m going to be ready.
CHAPTER 24
HUDSON
The lobbyof City Hall is packed with people filing into the chambers for the official vote. Tonight’s the night. The determining factor of who will take the lead on the arts centre. I have to admit, now that the day is here, I’m nervous. My palms are clammy, my gut is roiling, and I spent way too long figuring out what to wear just to end up deciding on tan chinos and a white button-down.
Wren is standing next to me, determination lining her expression and the set in her jaw. She’s transformed into yet another version of herself. Tonight, she’s all business. No whimsy. None of her blithe charm is shining through her oat-coloured pantsuit.
I’ve caught glimpses of it in the last few weeks. Little signs that there’s a part of her that hasn’t changed all that much. And as much as I hate seeing her so prim and proper, there’s something about her in a pantsuit that makes my cock twitch, stand on end like it’s preparing for a challenge. Itmakes my testosterone sizzle in my veins. It’s like another game. I wonder how long it would take me to have this stiff and starched Wren on her knees, suit dishevelled, buttons halfway undone, moaning as I part her lips with my?—
Wren’s sharp elbow digs into my side, the sudden pain yanking me back to the present. I must have looked completely zoned out, lost in my sexual fantasy—enough that she noticed. Her dark eyes drill holes into me as if she could read my thoughts.
“Mrs. Rose was asking you a question,” she grits out with an exaggerated smile.
“Sorry, Alma. I got … distracted for a second,” I say to the elderly woman, but I’m still looking at Wren.
“I was saying,” Alma continues like she has no clue that I was undressing and fucking Wren with my eyes, “Emma seemed to have such lovely things to say about you. I knew you would charm her. She wants to stay in Heartwood for the foreseeable future. She’s decided to take over the shop.”
Wren’s gaze breaks from mine and snaps to Mrs. Rose. Something unreadable crosses her face. I thought I had put the whole Emma issue to rest with her, but the look on Wren’s face tells me she might not be over it. Is it horrible I get a strange sort of satisfaction from seeing her like this?
Wren made it seem like she wanted nothing to do with me when she first got here. In fact, I was genuinely scared of her. She was ready to unleash her wrath, and now the tides have shifted. I wonder if Wren ever hated me in the first place. Somehow, this is all the proof I need that she didn’t.
“That’s great, Alma. She fits right in here. It’s great she wants to stay.” The corner of my mouth quirks up into asmirk as Wren fidgets. Alma walks away, satisfied, before I turn to face Wren. “Everything okay, Miller? Do you need to use the washroom or something? You look a little uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine.” I raise my eyebrows at her, letting her know I don’t believe the lie. “Shut up,” she snaps.
“Are you … jealous?” I guess, and Wren glares at me, stepping towards me and backing me up against the wall. She raises her finger to point at me, her face inches from mine.
“The only thing I am is ready to stomp you into the ground. Get ready to lose the vote, Landry. By a landslide.” My mouth twists up even more because, if I know anything about Wren, it’s that she hates to look weak. Her constant need for competition is the way she shields herself when she feels vulnerable.
But this tough-girl front isn’t fooling me. She’s forgetting that I know the real her. I was there through every single formative year, every success and every failure. I know what makes her tick.
I glance around the lobby and see that Wren and I are alone. Everyone has arrived and filed into the room—it’s almost time to get this show on the road. But not before I let Wren know I can see right through her. Ruffle her. Get under her skin.
