It happened during one of a seemingly endless string of very late nights at the office working on the Genie merger. Her fiancé, usually tolerant of her long hours, was starting to complain. Marin knew his impatience with her work schedule was understandable, but it still irked her. And it made her second-guess her decision to accept his proposal. This was why she had never been keen on the idea of marriage—and why she was certainly not open to the idea of children. Greg did not want children either, so that was one less thing to worry about. No one could do it all, have it all. And she had known from a young age that she wanted to be successful. Like her father.
As much as Greg said he supported her work ethic, she knew she was testing his patience. And so, on a Wednesday night at nine thirty, she decided to tear herself away from the computer and call it quits. But before she left, she stopped by Julian’s office to drop off a box of files—a box she could very well have left for the interoffice delivery in the morning. He was like the pull of gravity.
I’ll see him for a minute, and then I’ll leave. Home to my fiancé, she told herself. Looking at her ring.
Maybe she wouldn’t even talk to him. She’d just drop the box off with a wave and be on her way. But when she reached his office on the ninth floor, with its view of the Empire State Building lit in purple, she saw him in the midst of something that compelled her to ask:
“Sampling the wares?” She smiled in a way she would be the first to admit was too flirtatious.
Open in front of him on his desk was one of the Genie testing kits. The red-and-green DNA-strand logo on the packaging was unmistakable. And there were dozens of them stacked around the office. It was typical for clients to gift the firm samples of their products. But for her, the DNA-testing kit was one of the less appealing offerings.
Apparently, though, not for Julian. He held the plastic test tube with a detachable lid in one hand and the instructions in the other. When he looked up to find Marin in the doorway, he raised the test tube like he was making a toast.
“Yes. They keep asking me if I’ve done a test. I guess you could say I feel a professional obligation. And a little curiosity, I’ll admit.”
Marin drew closer to his desk. She reached over and picked up the empty cardboard Genie box, grateful for the prop. She knew she was crossing some sort of line, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was like she was watching someone else’s actions from afar.
With a smile, he handed her the small instruction sheet printed on shiny paper. She didn’t need to read it; she knew how it worked from their first meeting with Genie: All you had to do was mail in a saliva sample, and a few weeks later Genie e-mailed you the results. It was so user-friendly, it was no wonder the company was blowing up and attracting a multibillion-dollar buyer.
She took the paper from him, and his fingertips grazed hers. Swallowing hard, she pretended to read the instructions but the words swam in front of her eyes. Just go home.
“You should try it too,” he said.
“Really?”
“You’re on the team,” he said, smiling, his midnight eyes meeting hers in a challenge that was, dare she think it, flirtatious in its own right.
And in the state she was in, thrilled by the barely professional interaction, Marin happily agreed.
Things felt different after that. Nothing happened that night, but somehow it felt like they had a secret. And she realized that they did: they were attracted to each other. And it would have to stay a secret; even if she hadn’t been engaged to another man, it was strictly taboo for a partner to date an associate. The firm had a strict no-dating, no-fraternizing, don’t-even-look-twice-at-your-subordinate policy.
It was a fairly standard attitude for law firms, but everyone at Cole, Harding was especially sensitive since the Incident: Two years ago, at a summer-associate drinks event, a senior partner had told one of the young women that he wanted to fuck her seven different ways. The woman talked. For the first time in the firm’s proud five-decade history, it found itself written about in the New York Post’s Page Six instead of the Wall Street Journal.
That partner had gone from making seven figures to teaching at CUNY, and the rest of them had suffered through a week of sensitivity training and a sexual-harassment seminar. The zero-tolerance policy had been enacted.
And yet she and Julian couldn’t stay away from each other. As much as they tried, it was less than a week after the Genie incident before he invited her to his town house. They both admitted their sexual attraction and agreed they needed to “defuse” the situation.
At his town house that first night, they didn’t speak. They didn’t make it past the entrance hall. Handsome, reserved, professional Julian Rowe fucked with reckless abandon. Afterward, her entire body throbbed. They lay tangled together on his floor, making small talk about the fabulous house he rented and wanted to buy. And then she forced herself to get dressed and go back to the apartment she shared with her fiancé.
It was terribly wrong, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. When she weighed everything in her mind, leaving Greg was easier to imagine than staying away from Julian was. And once she admitted that to herself, she knew what she had to do.
“Marin,” Julian said now.
She looked up, startled. “Sorry. I was just thinking…”
“Where does Greg think you are? I don’t want you to get yourself into trouble.”
She toyed with the wrapper of her cupcake and licked chocolate frosting off her thumb. Her heart pounded.
“I ended it with Greg.” She was afraid to look at him, unsure how he would take the news. When he didn’t say anything, she was forced to face him to gauge his reaction.
It didn’t seem positive.
“Are you upset?”
“I’m not upset.” He stood and began pacing. “But Marin, this wasn’t supposed to ruin your relationship. This was supposed to be a temporary thing, two adults letting off steam, dealing with their attraction to each other. I mean, we work together. We can’t be a couple.”
Her stomach plunged with disappointment. “That’s fine,” she snapped. “But I still can’t marry a man I’m not in love with. So it has nothing to do with you, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Don’t be angry with me. I think you’re taking this wrong.” He sat next to her and reached for her hand. “Look, I’m crazy about you. I am—you have to know that.” He kissed her. “This just took me by surprise. And we have to be careful.”
“I know that! I’m not trying to escalate anything. I just can’t live a lie.”
“I respect you for that, Marin. I really do.” He hugged her. “I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
It hadn’t been. Greg took it badly. He was angry and called her all the names she deserved to be called, even though he didn’t know the worst of it: that she was having an affair. Greg Harper had never lost anything—had never had something fail to go his way—in his entire life. He hadn’t even bothered to ask her why or see if there was something they could do to salvage things. She was taking something away from him. She was doing something to him that was out of his control. He was clearly more upset about losing face than about losing her. Whoever said hell hath no fury like a woman scorned had clearly never burned an alpha male.