The phone on my desk rang, startling me out of my thoughts.
I set my X-ACTO and ruler aside and reached across my desk to pick it up. “Drafting and modeling, this is Jon.”
“It’s Marie,” my boss said flatly. “Meeting in conference room three. Now.”
I bit down on a string of profanity. “But I need to finish—”
“Mitchell just called me and said it’s urgent. I’ll meet you there.”
And with that, the line went dead.
I exhaled. This was not going to kill my good mood today. I refused to allow it. Whatever my bosses had up their asses, it was rolling off this duck’s back and that was all there was to it.
“I have to go up and talk to Marie.” I turned to Teagan. “Can you handle these guys while I’m gone?”
“As long as they don’t try to light each other on fire or something.”
“Cal, don’t set Bianca on fire.”
“Thanks, Jon.” Teagan laughed. “You’re a big help.”
“Any time. All right, I’ll be back when I get back.”
On my way up to the fourth floor, I tried to guess what this was about. Impromptu meetings weren’t that unusual, but clients were usually involved. Rick wouldn’t even be here until later today, so God knew what they wanted this time. Probably another time-waster meeting. Or maybe it was a brainstorming session about cutting costs. Those were always fun. Nothing like watching boys with yachts wring their hands over the price of foam-core and model cement. And then they’d be on my ass for not finishing the model in time for their presentation this afternoon.
Whatever. In a few hours, Rick would be in my bed, and I just couldn’t bring myself to get indigestion over anything that went on in this building.
I stepped off the elevator and nearly collided with Marie.
“Oh, sorry.” I fell into step beside her. “So, no idea what this is about?”
“No.” She scowled. “They probably want us to bend space and time to get something done ahead of schedule.”
“Again?” I sighed dramatically. “I’m running out of Spice, damn it.”
She eyed me. “Out of what?”
“Never mind.” I made a dismissive gesture. “Science fiction reference.”
“Probably one from before my time.”
I shot her a glare. “You’re not that much younger than me.”
“Young enough, apparently.”
We glanced at each other, and both laughed. Apparently she was in a good mood too. That was a positive sign—if she and I could banter a little here and there, it meant things were calming down. Enough work to keep us all employed, not enough to keep us here for a hundred hours a week.
Yep, this was going to be a good day.
We stepped into the conference room. All three partners were there, which was unusual when there wasn’t a client around, and as soon as we walked in, their heads turned toward us.
No. Toward me.
Great. What did I fuck up this time?
“Mr. McNeill.” Mitchell narrowed his eyes. “Would you have a seat, please?” He gestured at an empty chair that was rapidly beginning to resemble a hot seat.
I glanced at Marie. I was probably imagining it, but I swore she’d put a little more distance between us, as if avoiding the inevitable lightning bolt.
Without a word, I did as I was told. Marie stayed standing behind me.
“We won’t keep you long,” Mitchell said flatly. “But something has come to light. And we have some…questions.”
Sam Mitchell—his brother—sat silently, hands folded and gaze fixed on the screen on the wall. Beside him, Forsyth squirmed in his chair like he either didn’t want to be here or desperately needed to take a shit.
Mitchell cleared his throat. Without any further comment, he pressed a button on a little black remote, and a video came to life on the screen.
And my heart stopped.
On the same screen where they’d bored us to death with countless PowerPoint presentations, where we’d looked over schematics and aesthetics for dozens of structures, was a grainy black-and-white video from one of the parking garage surveillance cameras. And front and center, there we were—Rick and me.
Fuck. Fuck!
A lightning bolt, a heart attack or a goddamned grizzly bear—any of them would have been welcome at that point. Just take me out and make it quick.
I’d been so fucking cocky about the fact that they couldn’t fire me for getting involved with Rick, I’d gotten careless. Stupidly careless. And things in this room were going to get incredibly awkward in three…two…
The looks we were exchanging, and the way we were obviously wrapped up in conversation—we could’ve just been a couple of guys who’d bumped into each other in the garage. Except we were standing too close. And I’d been warned how many times about having the audacity to breathe the same air as Rick. But there we were.
My hand on his arm could’ve been a platonic gesture. It could’ve been anything. But the video wasn’t going to stop there. I knew it wasn’t. Like a train wreck in slow motion, we went on—talking, smiling, touching, careening toward that moment when there’d be no denying what was going on.
Onscreen, I moved in closer.