MasukThe sitting room took about ten minutes to fully decompress.
Cole poured everyone something stronger. Gerald retreated to his study, which was his version of processing. Eleanor sat next to me on the sofa and did the thing she did where she held my hand briefly without making it into a moment, and I thought, not for the first time, that she had wasted an enormous amount of warmth on this family. Liam had gone quiet. The fighting-Liam always collapsed into quiet-Liam afterward — all the energy burned off, leaving something that looked almost like remorse. Almost. "So," Eleanor said, in the voice of a woman steering a ship that had already hit several rocks and was determined to reach shore anyway. "How is everyone?" Cole raised his glass. "Emotionally, or —" "Nova, love." Eleanor turned to me with a smile that was genuine despite everything. "How's things? Last time we spoke you were at the bakery. Are you still there?" I opened my mouth. I was going to lie. I had a whole lie ready — yes, still there, going well, thanks for asking — smooth and simple and requiring zero follow up. I had been about to deploy it. "She quit," Liam said. "She doesn't have a job right now." I closed my mouth. Turned to look at him. He wasn't being cruel — I want to be fair about that. He said it the way you'd say she moved flats or she's between things — just information, filling the gap I'd left. He wasn't performing it. He wasn't making a point. He just said it. Because of you. The thought was loud and clear and I sat with it behind my smile and said nothing, because this was not the moment, and also because Eleanor was already talking. "Oh, these things happen," she said warmly. "The right thing always comes eventually. You're bright, Nova, something will come." "I'm sure," I said. "Actually —" She paused. Tilted her head slightly, the way she did when she was about to say something she'd already decided on but wanted to present as spontaneous. "Rhett mentioned to me that he needs a new PA. His current one is leaving at the end of the month. He's been putting off dealing with it." The room shifted in the subtle way rooms do when something that matters has just been said. Liam looked up. "His PA?" he said. "He needs someone competent, organised, someone who can actually manage him." Eleanor looked at me with the particular expression of a woman who had thought about this more than once. "Nova, you'd be wonderful." I looked at Eleanor. I looked at Liam. Liam was doing the calculating thing. I could see him running the scenarios — Nova in Rhett's office, Nova around Rhett daily, what that meant, what it looked like, whether it served him or threatened him. The calculation took about four seconds. "Rhett won't agree," he said. He laughed, a bit. "He's not going to hire Nova." "He might," Eleanor said pleasantly. "If she applied." "Mum, his standards for that role are —" "I think she should apply," Eleanor said. Still pleasant. Completely immovable. I said nothing. I was watching the door to the hallway, the one Rhett had walked out of twenty minutes ago. I was thinking about the way he'd looked at Liam when Liam shoved him. Not angry. Not threatened. Just: is that all? "Fine," Liam said, in the voice that meant not fine. "She can apply. He still won't hire her." He said it like a fact. Like something obvious that didn't need softening. I smiled at Eleanor. "I'll think about it," I said. The conversation moved on. Cole started a story about something that had nothing to do with any of this and I was grateful for him in a new and specific way. But across the sitting room, I caught Eleanor's eye. She looked at me for a moment. Then she smiled, small and certain, and looked away. I'm just glad someone around here has a job, I thought. Then I looked at Liam laughing at Cole's story, completely relaxed now, completely recovered, and I thought about the bakery and the fifteen interviews and a woman named Daisy who was always so extra. I'm just glad I might have a job soon."Geneva," Rhett said, like the word itself was an inconvenience.He'd called me into his office at nine, door shut, which usually meant either a problem with a client or a problem with his family, and from the look on his face this was closer to the second than the first, even though the sentence that followed was entirely about work."The Belvoir deal's stalling. Client wants someone on the ground for the final push, full-time, not flying back and forth every week like we've been doing." He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit I'd learned meant he already knew he wasn't going to like his own answer. "I have to go for a month. Starting next week.""A month.""A month." He said it like he was testing the shape of the sentence out loud to see if it got any better the second time. It didn't seem to. "You're coming with me. I need someone who actually knows the file, and Amara's got the office to run while I'm gone."I should have felt some version of dread at that, the specific dread of
The first time I noticed it, I told myself I'd imagined it.It was two days after the Kessler contract, two days after Rhett had told me to go home in a voice that didn't want me to, and I was back in the swing of ordinary office life, the kind where nothing almost happens and nobody has to examine anything too closely. Sophie had come by with a binder of seating charts that had apparently changed for the fourth time, and I was half listening while she talked me through table nine."I told you already, my cousin's not sitting near the Hendersons," she said. "I don't care what the original chart says.""You didn't tell me that. You told me your cousin wasn't sitting near the Fenwicks.""I said Hendersons.""You said Fenwicks, Sophie. I wrote it down. It's right here." I turned my notebook around so she could see it, her own handwriting from the week before, the word Fenwick circled twice for emphasis.She looked at it for a beat longer than the moment required, something flickering acr
The Kessler contract needed to be rewritten by Friday, which was Rhett's problem and, by nine a.m., mine too.He called me into his office with the specific tone he used when he already knew he was asking too much of someone. "I need eyes on this before end of day. All of it. I know it's a lot.""It's fine. I've got nothing better to do than reread three hundred pages of indemnity clauses.""That's the spirit."We worked through the morning at a careful, deliberate pace, more careful than three hundred pages of indemnity clauses actually required. Neither of us had said anything about Wednesday, not directly, but it sat in the room with us anyway, in the extra foot of space Rhett left between his chair and mine, in the way I kept both hands visibly on my own side of the desk like a woman on her best behavior."Read me clause fourteen again," he said, rubbing his eyes, somewhere around six. "I think I've stopped understanding English.""'The Purchaser shall indemnify and hold harmless
Sophie asked me to come dress shopping with her on a Thursday, phrased as a favor and delivered like an instruction."You know Rhett's schedule better than anyone," she'd said, catching me by the coffee machine, "and I need someone who can actually keep me organized instead of just agreeing with everything I say. You're perfect for it."I wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or the setup for several months of unpaid labor, but I said yes anyway, because saying no to Sophie Ainsley took an amount of energy I apparently didn't have to spare that particular Thursday.The shop was the kind of place with a single dress in the window and a woman at the door who assessed your outfit before deciding whether to let you further inside. Sophie sailed through it like she owned the building, which, given what marrying into the Holts would eventually mean, she more or less would."Champagne for my friend," she told the woman, not asking me first, and I took it because refusing felt like more t
Liam's flight was Tuesday, which meant Monday night was ours. He'd come over at seven like we'd planned, and the talk we were supposed to have had mostly turned into an apology from both directions, given and accepted in about ten minutes, quicker than either of the fights deserved. He said he'd overreacted. I said he hadn't, not really, and meant it, which was its own small discomfort I didn't hand over to him. "I don't want to spend my last night here arguing about a seating plan," he'd said, and I'd laughed, actually laughed, for what felt like the first time all week, and something between us had eased back into place. Not entirely. Enough. So now it was Monday, and we were doing what we always did the night before he left: ordering too much food, not finishing any of it, sitting on the sofa with his feet in my lap because he claimed it helped with the flight anxiety, though I suspected it mostly helped him feel like leaving was a smaller thing than it was. "You'll call whe
Amara had the news before I'd even taken my coat off."Congratulations are apparently in order," she said, spinning her chair to face mine the second I sat down. "Rhett Holt, engaged. I never thought I'd see the day.""You work for him. You've known for weeks.""Known and confirmed are different things. Now it's confirmed. There's a betting pool going round about the wedding date, by the way. Marketing started it. I put a tenner on next spring.""Next spring feels generous. Gerald wants it done before summer.""That fast?" Amara raised an eyebrow. "Bit quick for a man who irons his own napkins, no offense to your future in laws. Everyone's already speculating, you know. Someone in accounting's convinced it's tax reasons.""It's not tax reasons.""How would you know that.""I don't. I'm guessing, same as you." I kept my eyes on my screen while I said it, grateful the desk gave me somewhere to put my hands."That's depressing.""That's office culture." She leaned in, dropping her voice,







