Rowan squeezed the sides of her chair. Her mouth twitched, and she could feel her face growing red. James stood up, crossed the room, and walked to Rowan’s desk. He sat on the edge, still staring at her. Rowan was afraid to move, much less speak. She felt like two people: the Rowan who desperately missed her cousin, her best friend—and the Rowan who had slept with James . . . and who wanted to do it all over again.
Then his phone beeped. They jumped. “Do you need to get that?” Rowan asked.
James shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But what if it’s the nanny?”
He waved her away. “It’s not.”
“It could be important.”
A smile crept onto his face. He shook his head. “Saybrook, don’t you get it? No one is more important than you.”
Tingles washed down Rowan’s spine even as she protested. “James, we shouldn’t.”
He stepped closer and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, we should.”
He pressed his lips to hers, and her whole body melted into him. James lifted her onto the desk, and one by one, he undid the buttons on her slate gray work shirt, exposing the lacy black bra beneath, kissing her everywhere. Within seconds her bra and shirt were off, his hands caressing her breasts.
“More,” Rowan moaned, wrapping her legs around him and unbuckling his pants. He pushed her skirt up to her waist and in one swift moment thrust inside her, his lips and hands exploring her entire body. He started off slow, but soon he was moving against her with urgency, and she matched his rhythm, never breaking eye contact. “More,” she told him again. “Please.”
But it was over too quickly, and before long, James was pulling on his pants and tying his shoelaces. “Come over tomorrow,” he whispered in her ear. He squeezed her hand once, gave her a lingering kiss, then slipped away.
He shut the door lightly, and Rowan stared around her office, her heart pounding fast in the sudden stillness.
A full minute went by before she noticed her computer. She must have accidentally launched the iMovie application; a small window showed the view from the top of Rowan’s monitor, where her webcam was. A time clock was running, the camera still rolling. Rowan studied her image in the webcam, taking in her flushed skin, her mussed hair, her swollen lips. She hit stop with shaking, panicky fingers.
Then she rewound the video to the beginning. For a few moments, there was only heavy breathing, but then Rowan’s head dipped into the camera view. Then came a slice of her bare breast, her naked torso, her arched neck. A man straddled her from above, his face hidden. “More,” Rowan demanded breathlessly. “Please.”
Rowan’s cheeks blazed. She hit pause, embarrassed by her shameless display of passion. She moved the mouse to the top of the screen and, with a decisive, horrified click, deleted the video forever.
12
Aster exited out of the final Excel column and sat back with a satisfied sigh, lacing her fingers behind her chair and stretching her back to crack it. She couldn’t believe it. After over a week straight of data entry, she was finally done. It hadn’t been easy—Excel was miserable, but navigating Elizabeth was worse. Every interaction felt fraught with tension. Did she know about Aster and Steven? And how much?
She checked her watch: 6:00 on the dot. She would have just enough time to race home, throw some clothes into a bag, and make it to Teterboro in time to leave for Corinne’s bachelorette weekend. Normally the prospect of three solid days filled with Corinne-planned bridal activities would have made Aster roll her eyes, but right now she wanted nothing more than to be at Meriweather. She couldn’t wait to collapse in her canopy bed and sleep as late as she wanted.
She e-mailed the spreadsheet to Elizabeth, then stood up and started packing her things. “Aster!” she heard Elizabeth yell from her office. Aster quickly adjusted her blush-colored maxi dress—one of the few dresses she owned that fit Elizabeth’s strict knee-length regulation—and scrambled to her boss’s office, tripping over a pile of papers on the way.
“You’re leaving, I take it?” Elizabeth asked, not even bothering to look at her.
“Yes, and I’m out tomorrow,” Aster said, gritting her teeth. She’d asked for this time off her very first day, and it had been preapproved by HR. Elizabeth knew about this; she was just trying to goad Aster.
Elizabeth sighed melodramatically, as if Aster’s taking off work on a Friday was the most ridiculous request imaginable. “Well, don’t leave yet. I want to make our to-do list for Monday. Sit there while I look through my e-mail.”