Page 40 of Discretion at Its Finest

Genevieve

Istepped into the lobby of Newman Trust, shrugging off my jacket as I made my way toward the elevators.

God, I’d been trying to erase the memories of that night a few days ago. Trying to forget the feeling of him under the stars, my back against the cold metal of his car, his mouth pressed to mine like a brand.

I kept thinking of the too-warm, too-cozy ride home from the hospital. How comfortable and quiet it felt inside despite what had just happened. And how I fell asleep in the front seat…

And woke up in bed with my heels neatly placed in the corner, my wrap dress folded over the edge of the armchair. And I was in one of my soft sleep shirts. One of the ones I only wore at home. Alone.

My pulse had spiked the moment I woke, realizing I’d been moved. Reid had touched me, undressed me,cared for me…

And I wanted to scream.

Scream at him for toying with me like this, for turning cruelty into something almost tender. Confusing my mind withmoments that weren’t hate or vengeance or punishment… but something close to intimacy.

Something that made me question if I’d ever truly known what was going on inside that fucking mind of his.

The elevator chimed. I stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. The doors slid shut and I caught my reflection in the mirrored panel.

This morning I lookedfine. All put together and poised. A cream blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt. Lip color neutral. Hair swept into a low, polished ponytail. And I had to act like nothing had happened and that I wasn’t still aching between my legs.

I exhaled hard through my nose, willing the memory of last night away.

This was Reid’s game: make me spiral, feel everything again just so I’d forget how to function.

He wanted me off-balance. And unfortunately his plan was working.

The elevator dinged at the top floor and I stepped out, making my way to my new small and suffocating office, shutting the door behind me as I welcomed the silence.

It gave me space to think even if that was the last thing I wanted to do. I sat down slowly at the desk, setting my bag down and breathing through the anxiety coiled in my chest. My fingers grazed the surface of the folder I needed to review for the week’s press round, my focus still elsewhere.

He hadn’t touched me again since that night.

But that didn’t stop the damage from settling under my skin. Because that was Reid Kaufman.

Capable of breaking me without laying a single finger. Confusing me until I didn’t know the difference between what I wanted or deserved.

Eventually, I finished the first round of press notes to be reviewed by the board. And with the investor gala set for this evening, every word, impression, and curated smile had to be perfect.

A few investors looking to pull their money would be arriving for a meeting in a few days’ time, and for the moment, being on good terms with them was the sole focus of my responsibilities.

While Gregory was backtracking on every transaction he let slip through his fingers, I was responsible for keeping the people in charge of the funds within those transactions happy for as long as I could. Otherwise, the lights in this building would be off before we knew it.

I gathered the folder, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I stepped out into the hallway, heels soft against the polished floor. Reid’s assistant would be expecting the first draft within the hour, so I headed toward the executive wing, rehearsing the phrasing of my hand-off in my head.

Just down the hall, I caught a glimpse of Greg’s office door that was slightly ajar. Maybe once we finished our morning tasks we could get a bite to eat. It had been a while since we’d sat down for lunch, even longer since I’d seen him come home at a reasonable hour.

I missed him… I had to; he was my fiancé, the father of my only son… but part of me knew I was only thinking of him out of guilt, out of pity and obligation to keep our image together. Nonetheless, we were due for a conversation, one that was ordinary and normal, not clouded by the man taking over our lives.

Then—

Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of brown hair emerged from the elevator. It belonged to the same woman from the other day. Today her hair was down, her curls bouncy, flirtatious almost.

Her crisp white blouse framed her perfectly, tucked neatly into a pair of tailored khaki trousers that hugged her figure like a second skin. Her heels clicked softly as she walked, confident and unbothered.

I’d learned her name was Cheryl. She’d just returned from maternity leave, and already, she looked vibrant, all well-rested and polished. As if motherhood hadn’t stolen a single ounce of her shine.

She carried two cups of coffee, one in each hand. She pushed open Gregory’s office door with her shoulder without knocking and disappeared inside, like she’d done it before, the wood clicking shut behind her.