“It wasn't very good.”
“Not the point.”
“I know.”
“You never thought that little detail might matter?”
Claire looked at him.
“If I'd told you on Thursday that I ran Weston Global, would you have treated me the same way?”
Jake opened his mouth.
Stopped.
Claire waited.
He looked toward the floor.
“Probably not.”
“That’s why.”
His jaw tightened.
“That doesn't make lying okay.”
“I didn't lie.”
“You hid it.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Jake, every room I enter changes the moment people know.”
“I walk into restaurants and managers appear.”
“I mention my name and people check their posture.”
“Men who hated my idea thirty seconds earlier suddenly decide it's brilliant.”
“I wanted one conversation where none of that arrived first.”
Jake looked at her.
“You used me for an experiment?”
Her face fell.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I liked you.”
The bluntness stopped him.
Claire continued:
“More than I planned to.”
Jake looked away.
She moved closer.
“I came back Friday because I wanted coffee with you.”
“Saturday because I wanted to see you.”
“I asked you tomorrow because I want you beside me.”
“Not because I need to test anything.”
Jake’s anger softened.
Not gone.
Different.
The assistant appeared at the doorway again.
“Ms. Weston.”
Claire turned.
“Two minutes.”
He disappeared.
She looked back at Jake.
“Come tomorrow.”
“Then decide whether you hate me.”
Jake almost smiled.
“You assume I'm coming.”
Claire lifted one eyebrow.
“You already said yes.”
Then she walked out.
Jake stood motionless long after the SUV left.
Lily appeared from the back.
“So.”
Jake turned.
“How much did you hear?”
“All of it.”
“Great.”
“She’s a billionaire?”
“Apparently.”
Lily smiled.
“That's cool.”
Jake stared.
“That’s your analysis?”
“She likes you.”
“You're fourteen.”
“I have eyes.”
Jake grabbed the wrench.
“I have work.”
“You're still going, right?”
He stopped.
Lily leaned against the doorframe.
“You told me once that being intimidated is a bad reason not to learn something.”
Jake looked at her.
“When did I say that?”
“Science fair.”
“That's different.”
“No.”
“It isn’t.”
She walked away.
Jake muttered:
“I liked you more at six.”
“I heard that.”
The next evening, Jake stood outside the Grand Harmon Hotel wondering whether escape remained socially acceptable.
He wore dark slacks.
Navy shirt.
Clean boots.
No tie.
His hair had been cut that morning.
Lily had insisted.
“You look homeless.”
“That is not how homelessness works.”
“You know what I mean.”
Now the revolving doors spun before him.
Inside:
Marble.
Gold.
Crystal chandeliers.
People whose watches probably had security details.
Jake entered.
He immediately regretted everything.
Then the room changed.
Not because anyone noticed him.
Because everyone noticed someone else.
Heads turned toward the grand staircase.
Claire descended.