He’s a partner. He could quite literally order me to work from a grubby toilet seat in a tiny bathroom stall down the hall and I would be like, Yes, of course. Let me get right on that.

  Well…with any other partner, that’s what I’d say. With Hudson, I’d probably argue. A little.

  The point is, this is nice of him, and I don’t know how I feel about that. Maybe we’re both a bit weirded out about the arrangement because we work in silence for a good long while. I start to get a slight crick in my back, and I stretch my arms overhead, trying in vain to work out the kink that won’t go away.

  I feel Hudson’s attention on me and look over to see two deep wrinkles between his brows.

  “You can go home, you know.”

  I smile like, Yeah, duh. “I know.”

  “But you’re going to stay.” He says it like I exasperate him.

  I shrug. “Looks like it.”

  A few minutes later, I make a point of toeing off my heels and crossing my legs up under me. Formality can go to hell for all I care because it’s later than late, my little toesies have been stuck in these high heels for the better part of fourteen hours, and I’m not enduring it for one more patriarchal second. Hudson notices, of course. His brown eyes drift over my legs, but he manages to keep any biting-slash-witty-slash-devastating remarks to himself before he turns back to his work.

  And I have to say, I’m kind of disappointed.

  I continue my task, reviewing and highlighting, reading and reading and reading. My eyes are about to go permanently crossed. I rub them, probably smearing my mascara beyond repair. Then—

  “Scarlett.”

  My eyes freeze on a line of text. The familiar voice doesn’t belong here, in this office.

  My heart plummets when I look up to see Jasper standing at Hudson’s door wearing sweats and a look of fierce determination. My eyes widen in panic. Oh god. What is he doing here?! How did he even get through security?

  Surely he’s not about to take matters into his own hands regarding my not-so-nice coworkers. It’s just like him to draw up to my office like a valiant knight in defense of my honor. Never mind that I’ve made it perfectly clear I’m not in need of any knights! My honor is just fine!

  Jasper’s worried eyes scan the room, stalling a beat too long on Hudson before he looks at me with relief. He looks suddenly unsure. The tops of his cheeks redden.

  “I was worried about you,” Jasper tells me. “You weren’t answering your cell. I tried your work phone too and nothing. Your doorman said you hadn’t come home yet tonight…”

  So…he came to my office?

  On some level, it’s considerate, but it almost makes me feel like a child. Especially as all the senior associates in the room and the ones out in the sitting area listen in on this conversation.

  I feel everyone’s attention, the weight of Hudson’s gaze heavier than all the rest. Oddly enough, he’s the one who speaks first, before I can even muster the right words or gather the courage to figure out what to say in this awkward situation.

  “Go home, Scarlett. Work will be here tomorrow.”

  Either because Hudson is right or because I don’t want to argue with him, I quickly collect my things, slip on my heels, and hurry to join Jasper at the door. My cheeks are hotter than hot. The flush is spreading all the way down my neck. With my gaze locked on Jasper’s, I shake my head just once to make it perfectly clear I don’t want to discuss any more of this while we’re still in earshot of my coworkers.

  Bethany and Sophie wave bye to me, and I throw them quick nods before walking toward the bank of elevators.

  “Did we have plans tonight that I forgot about?” I ask once the doors slide shut behind us and we’re alone.

  “No.”

  “Okay…” Already my slight annoyance is starting to dissolve. Jasper isn’t a bad guy. This isn’t his fault, not really. “Listen, I apologize for not texting you to let you know I’d be at the office late, but that’s just going to happen sometimes, Jasper. Probably a lot. You know how bad I am with texting.”

  “Right.” He turns to me. “Texting issue aside…I don’t get why you were up here working late. You just started this week, Scarlett. That’s ridiculous if they’re already expecting this much of you.”

  “They aren’t!” I say with a forced laugh, trying to defuse the situation. “No one made me stay—I did it voluntarily.”

  And though I’m still bitter about getting pulled away from Hudson’s desk, I don’t want to take it out on Jasper. I wanted to stay as long as Hudson did, burning the midnight oil with him. It was incredibly satisfying to be a part of that team tonight, and I worry Jasper might have just imploded any future opportunities for me.

  He reaches out for my hand and squeezes it. “I understand it was a slight overreaction on my part, but I know you walk home from work and I just worry about you.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  I say it though I know it’s completely futile. Jasper is Jasper—he’s not going to change. It’s funny considering I’m exasperated by a part of him other women would probably love. He took the time to come down to my office and hunt me down, to confirm that I was all right and not in harm’s way. I get it. I don’t need to be mad anymore.

  Still…

  “How’d you even get up there?”

  “Barrett helped. I called him from the security desk.”

  I cringe and decide maybe I don’t want to know any more details. He contacted my doorman, called my brother, snuck his way up to the 70th floor—is that sweet? Or slightly overbearing?

  “Let me walk you home and then I’ll leave you in peace, okay?”

  I suppress a sigh, tuck away the last of my anger, and nod. “Sure. That’d be great.”

  Chapter Nine

  Scarlett

  It’s 7:30 p.m. on Friday night when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I wouldn’t normally check it at the dining table, but the Beringers have been telling a meandering story about their experience at a cheese shop and how “you just can’t find good help anymore,” and I can only listen with a pseudo-sympathetic ear for so long before my face starts to melt. I couldn’t care less about their make-believe customer service problems.

  “He couldn’t even tell me what region of Scotland the brie came from.”

  Cue rich people laugh.

  Buzz.

  My phone vibrates again and I surreptitiously retrieve it from my purse, using my napkin to conceal it as I angle the screen so I can read the text. It’s from Sophie Smith.

  Hey, I know it’s Friday night, but we’re up at the office and could use some backup. No pressure. I’ve asked a few other first-years too.

  YES.

  I look over at Jasper to see he’s already looking at me, his mouth turned down in a disapproving frown. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s work.”

  “On a Friday night?” Jasper’s mom, Annette, asks. “Goodness.”

  Annette has never worked. She met Jasper’s dad while they were in college and they were struttin’ down the aisle before graduation. I’m not judging her for her way of life. I just wish she wouldn’t judge me for mine.

  “There’s a fire we’re trying to put out at the moment,” I explain. “A merger that’s gone south.”

  She smiles tightly and raises her eyebrows as a way to suppress her true thoughts on the subject. I wouldn’t think much of her reaction except for the fact that Annette has pulled me aside twice in the last six months to discuss my relationship with Jasper and our future plans together, namely when she can expect me to focus my attention “where it matters”.

  The first time went something like this: “I just don’t know how I could have managed to raise Jasper right and go off to a job all day long.” Worse than that one was a snide remark she made right in the middle of a group conversation, so seamlessly it felt like I was the only one to hear her say it. “Oh, Scarlett doesn’t think being a mom is work enough.”

  When I brought it to Jasper’s attention later that night, he laughed it off. “So she’s prickly about her life choices compared to yours—big deal. Don’t let it bother you.”

  Now, she just can’t help herself. “Aren’t there always going to be fires to put out at a law firm of that size?” she asks her husband with a condescending tone.

  I look to Jasper, hoping he heard the comment and witnessed the way she delivered it, but he’s too busy waving down the hired waiter to ask for a refill on his wine. Never mind that the wine is sitting on a side table right there within reach. He could just get up and get it himself, but instead he’s playing into this silly game of Downton Abbey.

  All at once, it’s too much.

  I jerk my chair back and dart up. “I…have to leave.” I look at Annette and Charlie. “I’m sorry. I know you both went to so much trouble to put together this dinner”—i.e. you paid people a lot of money to cook in your kitchen while you observed and critiqued them from afar—“and I feel bad rushing off, but this is really important.”

  Charlie—nice, aloof man that he is—nods. “Of course, Scarlett. Don’t worry about it.”

  Annette doesn’t look up, and she doesn’t address me. I know I’ll be paying for this quick exit for weeks, if not months, to come.

  Jasper stands and follows me out of the dining room like a heavy black cloud. I know he’s upset with me.

  “Two late nights in a row, Scarlett?”

  I ignore him and pull up the Uber app.

  “My parents really wanted to spend time with us,” he continues.

  “I’m sorry, Jasper.”

  He sighs and grabs his keys from his pocket. “Let me drive you.”

  “I already called an Uber. Stay with your parents. I know they want to see you. It’s so hard finding time to get together.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Positive.

  I lie and tell him the Uber’s already there just so I can go outside. It’s colder than I expected, but I don’t mind the October chill. The fresh air feels like it’s cleansing me of the last hour and a half. I stand on the curb, looking down the road for a black Nissan SUV.

  Voices carry from the catering team standing in Annette and Charlie’s driveway. They’re just shooting the shit while they smoke and take a break. One of them catches my eye and nods, and I nod back. Given the choice between going back into the sprawling two-story red brick mansion to continue dinner with Annette or bumming a smoke from those guys, I’d pick the latter. And I don’t even smoke.

  It’s a twenty-minute ride from Jasper’s parents’ house to the Elwood Hoyt offices. The Uber driver talks on the phone the whole time, and I don’t mind one bit. Twenty minutes of sitting in the back seat, not saying a word? It’s like a mini spa trip. And he offers me free water and a cord to charge my iPhone! Thank you, Mr. Uber Man. You will be getting a good tip from me.

  I’m buzzing when I hurry through the ground-floor foyer, flashing my ID at security since I don’t have my badge on me. I assess my clothes when I’m in the elevator. I didn’t go home to change, and I’m slightly regretting it. The long white slim-fitting dress I wore to dinner is nice, though not exactly work attire. The halter neck has wide straps that twist around and tie beneath my hair, paired with a sculpted bodice. There’s no cleavage, thank god, but it’s still more skin than I’d prefer to show in the office. Good thing HR’s not making the rounds at 8:00 p.m. on a Friday night…

  I head down Hudson’s way after making a pit stop in the break room for two coffees in two matching Snoopy mugs. I expect the same frenzy as last night, but it’s suspiciously quiet near his office. There’s an older man hunched over at Lucy’s desk, but he doesn’t even glance up when I walk by him—his focus remains down on the document he’s redlining.

  At Hudson’s office door, I peer in to find he’s alone inside, working at his computer. I give myself the briefest moment to take him in: his ruggedly handsome features highlighted by the warm glow of his computer screen, those perpetually furrowed brows. I wonder if he’s realized how dark his office has become since the sun went down. Probably not.

  “Where is everyone?”

  He peers up. If he’s surprised to see me, he gives nothing away with his expression.

  “I gave them thirty minutes for dinner.” He checks his watch as he sits back in his chair. “They’ll be back soon.”

  I nod as I walk in to give him his coffee. It pleases me to no end to see his large hand wrapped around the handle of the cutesy Snoopy mug. He studies my smile but doesn’t ask about it. Of course not. He doesn’t care.

  After I take a sip of my own coffee, I set about adding some light to the room. He’s practically Count Dracula in here. I start with the floor lamp in the corner near his desk. Then I cross the room to turn on another lamp perched on the side table. My spine tingles from Hudson’s gaze. He’s watching me while he drinks his coffee. Maybe the dress is worse than I previously thought… I’m suddenly very aware of every square inch of skin on display. Even the skin beneath the light fabric doesn’t seem protected enough.

  I try the final lamp, but when I twist the switch, it doesn’t turn on. When I glance down, I see it’s been unplugged by accident. Of course the damn outlet’s shoved halfway behind the couch. I hike up my dress and bend down to stretch my arm back there—praying there aren’t like 456 dormant spiders waiting for a tasty finger to eat—and once I plug it in, the lamp turns on. Now the room is much more inviting.

  I turn to see Hudson is still watching me, curiosity sparking his brown eyes.

  “There. Better. Have you had dinner?”

  He nods. “Yes, Mommy. Leftover pizza.”

  I roll my eyes when what I really want to do is let loose a belly laugh.

  “Have you?” he asks, lazily taking in my getup.

  I just nod, not wanting to get into it. I don’t want him to ask me where I’ve been. But I shouldn’t worry; Hudson’s in no hurry to ask me probing questions. He doesn’t care about trivial things like my social life.

  Out in the sitting area, I hear the man stand up at Lucy’s desk. He walks to the open office door and holds up the document he was working on. “Finished with edits. I gotta head out. My wife’s gonna kill me if I don’t make it home before she puts the kids to bed.”

  Hudson waves him off. “Thanks, Jansen. Hand that over to Scarlett before you go. She’ll input the changes.”

  Jansen gives me the bound document, and I nod in confirmation.

  Well, there’s my task. Time to get to it.

  I decide it’s best if I work in my office tonight. There’s no reason to linger near Hudson, especially while we’re the only two people on the floor. It just feels dangerous—not because he’d ever do anything inappropriate. Last I checked he was minding his business, whipping through papers on his desk, a red pen wedged between his teeth. It’s more like I’m the inappropriate one. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep Hudson contained in the tidy box in my head labeled: Boring Male Coworkers I Otherwise Don’t Care About. He’s inching ever so slowly toward a new box titled: Men I Find So Attractive I Can Barely Stand It. So far, that box is filled with Brad Pitt (specifically Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt) and George Clooney (in his current silver fox era).

  Putting myself down the hall, in my office, is the smart thing to do.

  Except that five minutes later, Hudson calls me back down to his office because his printer isn’t working.

  “Did you do something when you turned that lamp on?” he accuses.

  “Yes,” I say drolly. “I broke your printer by turning on your lamp.”

  His gaze eats me alive.

  I gulp and look away. “Maybe it needs more paper?”

  “It has paper.”

  “What about ink?”

  He drags his hands through his thick hair. “Dammit. Where’s IT when you need them?”

  “I’m pretty handy,” I tell him, kicking off my heels so I can bend down and see what the issue is. Really, I’m not that handy, but if there’s an opportunity to fix something and impress Hudson in the process, I’m going to take it.

  Of course his printer is shoved in the bottom of a large built-in cabinet, so I have to bend down to confirm that yes, unlike the lamp, the printer is plugged in. That’s a good start.

  “What’s the issue?” I ask, turning just in time for Hudson to bend down next to me. He’s so big and looming and that scent—my god, it’s good. Citrusy, clean, invigorating, that fresh-out-of-the-shower aroma I love.

  “Shove aside, will you?” he says suddenly.

  “I’m trying to fix it,” I argue, not budging an inch. “You’re the one who called me down here.”

  “Yes, well, you’re not exactly doing a bang-up job.”

  “You haven’t given me a chance to do anything yet!” I snap and then groan when my head hits the bottom of the cabinet. “I was just checking to see if it’s plugged in.”

  “Of course it’s plugged in. Let me see if I can figure out the error code.”

  He presses his shoulder into mine and, like a petulant child, I shove right back against him. “I can—”

  Before I know it, he has me by the waist and he’s lifting me up and plopping me down away from the printer like I’m a sack of potatoes he’d like to dispose of elsewhere.

  “You know what? Fix your own damn printer,” I huff, reaching down to pick up my heels.

  “Watch your damn mouth.”

  “You watch your mouth. God, you’re insufferable.”

  I start to storm back down the hall, barefoot with my heels in my hands, when he calls out after me. “And next time don’t come to work in a dress like that!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean!? The dress is fine. You’re the problem!”

  I swear I hear him mutter something before I turn the corner back into my office and plop right back down at my desk. I’m breathing hard—worked up, as per usual in Hudson’s presence—when the elevator dings and everyone trickles back in from dinner. It’s much the same crew from last night, plus a few additional first-year associates, Kendra included.