PART 2
“Mara.”
Norah Quinn said her best friend’s name as if she had just witnessed a crime, which, in a way, she had. The criminal was her own thumb. The victims were her dignity, her employment, and possibly her entire future at Cross Global.
Mara leaned closer, still laughing from whatever joke she had been telling herself, until she saw Norah’s phone screen. Her smile died so fast it was almost impressive.
“Oh,” Mara said.
Norah’s face went white. “Oh? That’s all you have? I just texted Julian Cross that he looks inappropriately gorgeous in a suit.”
Mara took the phone from her and scrolled. Her eyebrows rose higher with every message. “You also told him to come get you.”
Norah covered her mouth with both hands. “I’m dead.”
“Maybe not dead.”
“I’m unemployed.”
“Possibly.”
“Mara.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think faster.”
At that exact moment, Norah’s phone vibrated.
Both women froze.
The screen lit up with one name.
Julian Cross.
Norah made a tiny sound that did not belong to any adult woman. Mara stared at the screen as if it were a bomb.
“Answer it,” Mara whispered.
“No.”
“Norah.”
“I would rather fake my own death.”
The phone stopped ringing.
For three seconds, there was silence.
Then a text appeared.
Where are you?
Norah stared at the message, breathing too fast.
Another came before she could respond.
Send me your location. Now.
Mara’s expression changed. “Okay. That sounds less flirty and more emergency.”
“I can’t send him my location,” Norah whispered. “He’s my boss.”
“You already told him you were drunk and everything was spinning. If he has even one decent bone under that absurdly expensive suit, he’s going to make sure you’re safe.”
Norah shook her head, then regretted it immediately because the bar tilted again. The Blue Moon had become too loud, too bright, too hot. The walls seemed closer than before. Leo the gossip intern had disappeared, which was somehow worse than if he had stayed. Norah had the sudden terrible feeling that more people were watching than she could understand.
Her phone vibrated again.
Norah. Location.
Seeing her name in his text made her stomach twist.
Mara took control, because Mara was often reckless but rarely useless in a crisis. She opened Norah’s location and sent it to Julian before Norah could stop her.
“There,” Mara said.
Norah looked betrayed. “You sent my boss my location while I’m drunk in a bar after I called him gorgeous.”
“Yes, and tomorrow you can hate me from a place where you are not passed out in a restroom.”
Norah wanted to argue, but her tongue felt heavy. The room dipped. She gripped the edge of the table.
Mara’s face sharpened with concern. “Norah?”
“I don’t feel good.”
The next ten minutes stretched strangely.
Mara ordered water. Norah tried to drink it and spilled some on her blouse. She kept apologizing for things no one was angry about. The music pulsed through her bones, and every passing stranger looked briefly like someone from work. By the time the bar door opened and Julian Cross stepped inside, Norah had convinced herself she was hallucinating him.
But everyone else saw him too.
The Blue Moon was the kind of Manhattan bar where executives, analysts, consultants, and bored heirs mixed under dim lighting and overpriced cocktails. Men in tailored jackets turned instinctively. Women paused mid-sentence. Even the bartender looked up. Julian Cross did not need to announce himself. He carried authority the way other men carried phones.
He wore no tie. His black coat was open over a white shirt and dark suit pants. His hair looked slightly wind-tossed, as if he had left somewhere important in a hurry. His storm-gray eyes swept the room once before landing on Norah.
She wished the floor would open.
Instead, Julian crossed the bar in a straight line.
Mara stood first, chin lifting as if preparing to defend Norah from her own rescue. “Mr. Cross.”
“Mara Bennett,” he said, remembering her name, which would have shocked Norah more if she were not actively trying to stay upright. “How much has she had to drink?”
Norah lifted a finger. “I can answer that.”
Julian looked down at her. His expression did not change, but something in his eyes softened.
“How much, Norah?”
She blinked at him. “You said my name again.”
Mara pressed her lips together like she was trying not to smile.
Julian did not smile. “Yes.”
“You never say my name.”
“That appears to have been an oversight.”
Norah considered this very seriously. “A rude one.”
“You’re right.”
That startled her into silence.
Mara cleared her throat. “She had too much. She almost never drinks. I was going to take her home, but she sent you that message by mistake.”
Julian’s gaze flicked briefly to Norah’s phone on the table. “I figured.”
Norah gasped. “You read them?”
His eyebrow lifted. “You sent them.”
“That’s different.”
“It is not.”
“It feels different.”
This time, Julian almost smiled. Almost. Then he looked toward the hallway leading to the restrooms, where two men in loosened ties were watching too closely.
His expression cooled.
“Do you have her coat?” he asked Mara.
Mara handed it to him.
Norah tried to stand and nearly sat back down. Julian moved instantly, one hand steadying her elbow. He did not pull her close. He did not make a joke. He simply held her with enough firmness to prevent disaster and enough distance to make it clear he knew she was vulnerable.
That small restraint did something strange to Norah’s heart.
“I can walk,” she said.
“I’m sure.”
“I’m independent.”
“I’ve read your quarterly workflow reconstruction. I have no doubt.”
“You read that?”
“I read everything you send me.”
Norah stared up at him. “That is horrifying and romantic.”
Mara made a choking sound.
Julian looked briefly toward the ceiling, as if asking God for professional endurance. “Let’s get you home.”
The cold air outside hit Norah like a slap. A black town car waited at the curb, engine running, driver standing by the back door. Julian guided Norah into the car first, then looked at Mara.
“I’ll take her home. You can ride with us if you prefer.”
Mara studied him for a long second. “I do prefer.”
“Good.”
That answer earned him one point in Mara’s private judgment system.
Inside the car, Norah slumped against the window, embarrassed and dizzy. Mara sat beside her. Julian took the rear-facing seat across from them and gave the driver Norah’s address without asking, which startled her until she remembered he had access to employee emergency records.
“That’s creepy,” she murmured.
Julian looked at her. “Your address is in the executive assistant security file because you have access to confidential documents.”
“Still creepy.”
“Noted.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Please don’t fire me.”
The words came out smaller than she intended.
Julian’s face changed.
“I’m not firing you.”
“People get fired for less.”
“Not by me.”
“You fired Caleb for mislabeling a vendor contract.”
“Caleb mislabeled a vendor contract to conceal a $40,000 kickback.”
Norah thought about that. “Okay. That’s worse.”
