I suppress my sigh of disappointment and fix a smile to my face. “You’ll need this file for your meeting, sir.” I hand John a gray file folder with the information he requires. “If you’ll wait here, Mr. Bass.” I pat my guest chair. I don’t dare call him Rexton in front of my boss. “I’ll return to see you out.” We’ll have our talk then.
“Walk with me, Grant.” John waves the file, indicating that I should lead the way, buffering him from other employees. I’m not equal. Not at all.
“Of course, sir.” I stride toward the west meeting room, my back straight, my hips swaying. “The funding for the software rollout is in the budget but not all members of the team are on board.” I give him the insights he needs for the next meeting.
“Bass is a fool.” John’s mind remains on his previous appointment. “What did they teach him at that fancy school of his?”
“They didn’t teach everything, sir.” I glance over my shoulder. John scans the area, his gaze shifting from the left to the right. I don’t know who or what he’s looking for. “He needs someone to guide him.”
“I know why he wants to partner with me,” my boss growls. “Why do I want to partner with him?”
“It’s a good project.” I stop outside the meeting room. All of the seats except one are filled, the team eagerly awaiting their leader’s arrival.
“There are better projects.” John looms over me. “I should exit these negotiations.”
John has never cared about what he should do. I tilt my head back and meet his gaze. He wants to be involved in this deal. “Give him another chance, sir.” I relay the answer I believe he wants.
“This will be his last opportunity, Grant.” John scowls. “Tell him not to waste it.” My boss enters the meeting room and the other participants clamber to their feet.
I retrace my steps. Rexton slumps in my guest chair, staring blindly into space, a frown on his handsome face.
He sees me, his head lifts, and his lips curl slightly upward. “It was the small talk, wasn’t it?” He stands. Rexton is only an inch or two shorter than John yet he takes up less space, appearing much less threatening. “There’s so much riding on these meetings. I couldn’t stop talking.”
As he can’t stop talking now. “You’ll have one more opportunity to convince him.”
“Really?” His eyes widen.
“Really,” I confirm, his reaction making me smile. Was John ever this young and eager? Or was he born tough, cynical, world-wary, the man I now love?
“Then we’ll convince him.” Rexton beams, his blue eyes sparkling. “Together.” He catches my hand. “I need you, Trella.” He squeezes my fingers.
I long to be needed, to be included. “I’m loyal to Mr. Powers.” I pull my hand away from him.
“Of course, you are.” Rexton smiles. “You’re a great assistant. Great assistants are loyal to their bosses.”
I frown, not liking this assumption. Loyalty is earned. I’m not a dog, blindly following her master.
“I appreciate that loyalty.” The developer leans closer to me. “I appreciate you.”
John has never said these words to me. Maybe I am blindly loyal.
“Have lunch with me.” Rexton smiles. “There’s a great seafood restaurant next door. We can talk about the development.”
I’m not a seafood lover but I do have to eat lunch and John wants this project to happen. He doesn’t give second chances to many people. Mr. Zanetti, the CIO, walks by my desk, his gaze openly curious. This also isn’t the place to have a sensitive business conversation.
“I’ll walk you out, Mr. Bass.” I stride down the hallway. Rexton catches up to me and walks beside me. He doesn’t expect me to form a wall between him and others.
“Powers mentioned you went to college,” Rexton says.
John talked about me? I blink, stunned by this revelation. “I attended the University of Toronto.” I couldn’t afford Harvard, couldn’t afford to leave Toronto. “Undergrad only.” I also didn’t have the money for a MBA.
“It’s a good school.” There’s a tinge of condescension in Rexton’s voice.
John deals with this condescension every day. I press the button for the elevator. The not-so-subtle insults must have been ego battering while he was building his success. “All my education proves is I can be trained.” I tilt my chin upward, quoting my boss.
“You’ve been trained by the best.” The doors open and Rexton follows me inside. He claims one back corner. I stand in the other. If John were here, he’d position his big body directly in front of me. I feel strangely exposed without him, vulnerable.
“I know you’re loyal to Powers.” Rexton leans against the mirrored walls, his blond hair glowing under the overhead lights. “But he can train another assistant. He has the time and the knowledge to do this. I don’t.”
If I left him, John would replace me both at the office and in his bed. Pain pierces my heart. Months after our split, he wouldn’t remember I existed, forgetting about me as my parents forgot about me.
“I need you, Trella,” Rexton says all of the right words, appealing to my battered soul.
I force myself to think rationally, to consider the consequences, and as John has taught me, there are always consequences to every decision.
“Mr. Powers would view my defection as a personal affront,” I caution. “If you hire me, he won’t partner with you on the development. You won’t have the benefit of his name, his contacts and his experience.”
Rexton pauses for one telling moment. “I’d take that chance.”
Part of me is flattered by his high opinion of me. The other part of me thinks he’s a naïve fool. John can destroy him, tear his reputation to shreds, freezing all financing, blackballing him with potential partners. The risks far exceed the rewards. “I won’t allow you to take that chance.”
“Consider my offer, Trella,” Rexton urges. “That’s all I’m asking. I can’t build my empire alone.”
I do consider it. I consider Rexton’s offer during the walk to the restaurant, while we order our lunches, throughout our strategy session. My relationship with John will end. Will it hurt less if I leave him before he leaves me? I’d save my pride yet sacrifice time with the man I love, the man I will always love.
My phone buzzes. John’s number appears on my screen. “I need a moment.” I hold up my hand, interrupting Rexton’s steady stream of words.
“What can I do for you, sir?” I cup this hand over my mouth, trying to block some of the clatter from the busy restaurant.
Rexton and I are seated at a corner booth. Every wooden table is filled with business people and tourists. A tired-looking waitress rushes from the kitchen, carrying platters of crab cakes and dipping sauce, her smile strained, her gray hair frizzy. A bearded man seated next to us wears a plastic bib, a pile of lobster claws stacked on the plate before him. The sight makes me queasy, the fishy scent crawling up my nostrils.
“Where are you?” John’s words are barely audible which worries me. The softer his voice is, the angrier he is.
“I’m eating lunch at the seafood restaurant on the corner.” I don’t lie to my boss. Ever.
The phone clicks. Silence follows. A shiver skitters along my spine.
“You should leave now,” I tell Rexton, my voice flat. No longer hungry, I gaze at the yellow lettuce in the shrimpless shrimp salad I ordered.
“Pardon?” Rexton sets his knife and fork down on the red and white checkered placemat, having devoured his grilled salmon in record time.
“John is on his way to the restaurant and he’s very, very angry.” I poke a grape tomato with the tongs of my fork. “If you’re here when he arrives, all of our strategizing is for nothing. You can kiss your partnership goodbye.”
Rexton’s eyes widen. “I’m leaving.” He removes his wallet from his jacket’s inside pocket, removes too many bills, and tosses them on the table. “Thank you, Trella.” He squeezes my shoulder and dashes away, not looking back.