When I reach my floor, my Spidey senses tingle once again. Only this time, it’s on account of the atmosphere of the office. Something is happening. Something big. There’s a light murmur of hushed whispers and the air practically sizzles with energy.
I pause at my assistant’s desk right outside of my office.
Linda, my trusty assistant, is listening closely to Diane, who works in HR. “Rumor has it Ike wants to hand him the reins of the company.”
My back straightens, and I’m not quite fast enough to keep the frown from forming on my lips.
“No, that can’t be,” Linda shakes her head. “His son hasn’t been around in years, and Mr. Noble says he’s retiring in the new year. There’s no way he can possibly catch him up on everything.”
“It’s called nepotism, honey. It doesn’t usually make sense.” Diane rolls her eyes and sighs. “It’s a good thing Baby Noble is good-looking. Because he’s going to be a pain in our ass.”
“Ugh, tell me about it.” Linda’s face scrunches up and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “I swear, I’m getting a migraine already just thinking about it. He’ll have so many questions.”
“Stupid questions. And we’ll have to grin and bear every single one of them.”
“Without letting him know we really want to staple Post-Its to his forehead.”
“No.” Diane shakes her head. “He’s way too pretty to staple anything to that forehead of his. No matter how much we might want to flick his nose.”
“I wouldn’t call him pretty.” Linda strokes her chin. “More rugged.”
“Tall and handsome. Manly.”
“Like the Brawny guy.”
They trail off when they see me standing near them. Linda covers the keyboard with her fingers and Diane straightens.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Carol.” Linda’s smile is just a little too bright. “Did you finally get a hold of your sister?”
“I did.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her to call me Holly, but my mind is now otherwise engaged. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying not to let the tension inside of me grow even more. “Any messages while I was out?”
“Mr. Noble would like you to stop by his office as soon as you can.”
I give a short nod as I pass her my coat and purse before heading across the floor to his corner office. There’s no way what Linda and Diane have said is true. If Mr. Noble was planning on leaving the company to his son next month, he would have brought him back into the fold much sooner.
His son is probably here for other reasons. Like, to spend the holidays. He’s never done that before in the years I’ve worked here, but maybe this is the exception.
I don’t have to worry about losing out on my promotion. Spine straight and shoulders back, I knock on Mr. Noble's door and push it open, ready to see the real-life Brawny man who most definitely isn’t here to poach my job.
TWO
JONAS
When my dad’s number two walks into the office, it’s like a punch to the gut. In more ways than one.
Dad and I were heavily embroiled in another one of our pissing matches. It’s not unexpected given our relationship through the years, particularly in the last few. Let’s just say, there’s a reason I turned down his job offer when I graduated college more than a decade ago. And there are lots of reasons why I’ve seldom been back to Denver since.
I was doing my best not to listen too closely to what he was saying. I wasn’t paying attention when the door to his office swung open. And the handle hit me squarely in the junk.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath, folding over as the sharp pain flows through every inch of my body.
“Watch your mouth,” Dad responds, with a narrow-eyed glare that I’m only just able to see through blurry eyes. “There’s a lady present. Speaking of, Jonas, this is Holly.”
Still fighting to win the battle over hurling, I clench my jaw and straighten as best as I can. It’s time to face the woman my dad has been talking up for several years, usually with a few digs directed at me.
I begin the slow gaze up from her feet. Past a pair of shapely legs and hips on display thanks to a form-fitting pair of jeans. Past an equally full chest accentuated by a bright red sweater. Finally landing on her face.
That’s when the second gut-punch strikes.