To Get Me To You

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

STANDING SHOULDER TO SHOULDER with her intern, Norah surveyed the mountains of folders spread across the conference table.

Cecily took a bracing breath. “This calls for ordering in. Do we want Chinese, Indian, or Greek?”

“None of the above. You are going home like the good little, not-excessively-overworked intern you’re supposed to be.”

“But I can help.”

Aw, she’s like your mini-me, Norah’s conscience cooed. The earnest, good-hearted workaholic. Encourage that so y’all can have no life together.

“It’s not about can, it’s about should. And you should have a life after work. Now go ahead and scoot or you’re going to miss your TaeBo class.”

“You did not just tell me to scoot. You’ve been talking to your Mississippi friend again.”

Norah just arched a brow.

“Fine, fine. But I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow. I’ve got some concepts kicking around in my head for the Rembrandt job.”

“I look forward to hearing them. To. Mor. Row.”

“Yes, boss.”

As Cecily walked out, Norah’s personal assistant walked in.

“Don’t even start with me, Christoff.”

“Not even back a day and you’re covered up. We aren’t that behind from the holiday.”

As he moved toward her desk, Norah automatically closed the files she’d pulled herself earlier in the day. No reason to alert anyone else to her inquiries until she decided what to do about them.

“I’m just trying to get ahead a bit so I can take New Year’s off.”

He collapsed gracefully into one of the visitor’s chairs and crossed his Ferragamo boots. “Honey, we both know you’re going to bring your fabulous dress and get ready here, before you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and GQ show up fashionably late for whatever It Party is the place to be.”

“Just because it’s what we did last year…”

Christoff shut her up with a Look. He tapped the side of his nose. “I am wise to your ways, milady. You shouldn’t be hitting the ground running this hard until after the first of the year.”

Norah sighed. “I have my reasons. Now go ahead and get out of here. I mean it. Out of the office.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t like abandoning you while you’re drowning.”

“I am not drowning. Go home and watch your DVR backlog of Project Runway. All this will still be here tomorrow.”

“Only if you promise you’re not going to work half the night. I’m calling up here in an hour to make sure you’ve left.”

“Fair enough. I promise.”

He made an I’m watching you gesture with his fingers. “I’ll know if you just don’t pick up.”

He probably would. Norah had long since stopped wondering how Christoff knew the things he knew. She plastered on an indulgent smile and made shooing motions until he walked out of her office.

As soon as the door shut, Norah wilted, letting go of the Everything’s Okay facade she’d been using all day. Everything was most definitely not okay. Rising, she crossed to the window of her office, staring out at the twinkling lights of the Chicago skyline. She’d worked her ass off for Helios Creative to earn that view, done good work. Exceptional work. She was tenacious and she was thorough. The harder the sell, the more determined she became, rallying to the challenge like a heavyweight going into a title fight. Her honeyed eloquence had produced the highest success rate of anyone in the firm, save her boss, and she’d rocketed through the ranks to Vice President of Sales, getting dubbed The Closer. Together, she and Pierce Vargas were an absolute marketing dream team. Everybody said so.

But what was the price? How many lives had she destroyed in her pursuit of success?

The door behind her opened, but she didn’t turn.

“Finally took the lock off, huh? I was starting to wonder if you were avoiding me.”

“I had a lot of work to do.” She watched Pierce cross the room in the reflection, dispassionately noting the artfully mussed hair, the tailored suit trousers that still held a crease even at this late hour. He always looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine ad. So did she. It was part and parcel of the job. Perfect. Polished. Professional. As he slid his arms around her waist, they looked every bit the power couple.

Pierce dipped his head to press a kiss to her neck. “Welcome home, babe.”

Norah stiffened and stepped away, wishing viciously for a tumbler of scotch she could drain before hurling the glass at his head.

Not a stupid man, Pierce stayed put, angling his head to study her. “Something wrong?”

“How long have we been partners?”

“In bed or out?” He flashed a glib smile. “Did I miss an anniversary or something?” When she didn’t soften, he sobered. “We’ve been working together for a little over three years. Why?”

“I stopped in Morton on my trip back yesterday.”

“Where?”

“Morton, Indiana. Hugo’s ValuCenter hired us to convince the town to let them build there. Y’all brought me in to do the pitch on behalf of the clients.”

“Okay. That was one of the first jobs we partnered on. So?”

“So the infrastructure of local businesses has been gutted. The downtown is all but dead because they completely violated their promise of non-competition in multiple areas. The promise I made the townspeople in good faith when I did the pitch.”

Pierce’s expression softened and he crossed to her. “Is that what’s got you upset? Sure it sucks for them, but you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s business, and if the town didn’t get a non-compete clause ironclad in the legal stuff, that’s on them. It happens. It still has nothing to do with you. You did your job. We both did.”

She spun away when he tried to pull her into his arms. “That’s the problem.”

“I don’t follow.”

Trembling with rage, Norah reached for the file on her desk, tossing it toward him. The contents spilled across the surface, onto the floor. Headlines jumped out in glaring black and white, damning Hugo’s business practices, outing their impact on other small towns in other parts of the country. A stack of bad publicity that proved the company had never meant a word of the promises she’d made on their behalf. Publicity she hadn’t seen when they brought her in at the last minute to do the pitch on behalf of Hugo’s.

“You knew. You were the one who did due diligence on this job. You knew before I ever made the presentation, and you didn’t tell me.”

Pierce eased a hip back on the credenza and crossed his arms. “You’re right. I didn’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t do the job if you were aware of the company’s…shall we say, checkered past.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have done it. It’s an ethics violation, Pierce! We—or, at least, you—were aware that this company could seriously damage that community, and you said nothing.”

He shrugged. “It was a huge account, and the firm couldn’t afford to lose it over your moral compass. So I gave you an edited version of the company’s plans. It worked. The client was happy. And you were well on your way to this corner office. End of story.”

“You manipulated me.”

“Norah, you’re really blowing this out of proportion—”

“Am I? Am I really? How often did you do this? How many times have you fed me a revised version of the truth and sent me in to lie to people?” She knew her voice was rising and struggled to find some control.

“Hey now, what is going on in here?” Philip Vargas, founder and CEO of Helios stepped through the door. “I can hear you from down the hall.”

Norah turned to face her boss. “Philip, I am sorry to inform you that your son has committed a serious ethics violation. At least once, perhaps more, in the name of profit. And he dragged me in as an unwitting accomplice.”

Philip gave an exaggerated sigh. “This is why we didn’t tell you. You’re our best closer. We couldn’t have your over-developed conscience getting in the way.”

She gaped at him. “We? You knew?”

“Of course, I knew. I know everything that goes on in my company. I know what assets I have and how best to use them.”

Use. The word rang in her head. She was an asset. Never before had that word made her feel cheap.

Philip continued, “You happen to have an element of southern charm to go along with that keen mind. Clients eat it up. You do your job and you do it damned well. We just keep you informed about what you need to know to get the job done without you having hysterics over things like truth, justice, and the American way.” The derision in his tone felt like acid.

With a dawning horror, Norah realized that neither Philip, nor Pierce, nor the company she’d devoted her life to for the last six years were who she thought they were. She was the only one in the room with an ounce of integrity. She squared her shoulders. “I won’t be party to that kind of manipulation again.”

Philip shrugged in a gesture so redolent of Pierce only minutes before, Norah felt her head spin. “Fine. You’re fired.”

Norah’s mouth dropped open.

“For every award you’ve won in this company’s name, there are dozens of hungry young neophytes dying for your job. You’re replaceable. And if you bother spreading this little story, you can be sure I’ll blackball you. You won’t ever work in this business again. Think about that while you’re standing in line for unemployment.”

She looked to Pierce, but he said nothing, looking disgusted by her behavior. A year and a half wasted on a man who couldn’t be bothered to defend her. “We’re through.”

“Oh, I think that’s been made abundantly clear.”

Philip stepped out and called for the security guard. “Please escort Miss Burke from the building and take her keys once she’s gathered her things. C’mon, son. I’ll buy you a drink.”

Norah was still staring at the door minutes after they walked out. Daryl, the security guard, stood awkwardly beside her desk as she piled her personal effects into a box. Riding on temper and righteous outrage as he escorted her to the elevator like some kind of criminal, Norah was grateful no one was left working late to bear witness to her humiliation.

Daryl didn’t quite meet her eyes as the elevator doors opened at the parking garage. “I’m sorry about this ma’am, but it’s company policy.”

“Not your fault.”

Fury carried her through traffic. Indignation had her deliberately taking the stairs up to her fourth floor apartment so she could burn off some of the excess energy. Not until she locked the door to her apartment and dumped the box on the kitchen table did anything else filter past that initial reaction of shock and outrage.

Shaking, Norah sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands.

“What have I done?”