I had always planned on flying back to Chicago on Saturday for my Monday board meeting. But after my moment of weakness around Zahra, I called my pilot and asked him to prepare for takeoff when I left Zahra’s cubicle. I should have never stopped by to visit her. It wasn’t like I needed anything from her, but I couldn’t stop myself after meeting with Jenny and Sam. It was like a siren calling out to me, leading me toward my demise.
She’s an anomaly I can’t categorize yet which only fuels my interest. Everything about her is strange. From her vintage attire to her pins, she doesn’t fit into the usual neat category of business professionals I’m used to.
I hate that she interests me about as much as I dislike how I keep acting like a thoughtless fool around her. Between my alias and Zahra working her way under my skin, I need some distance from whatever the fuck is getting in the way of my objective thinking.
A sense of relief instantly hits me the moment I enter my penthouse apartment overlooking the Chicago River. It’s my silent world up here, away from distracting females with enamel pins and employees who don’t understand the universal nonverbal signal for fuck off. People say home is where the heart is but I couldn’t disagree more. Home is wherever I’m unbothered. That’s true peace for me.
I shower, eat some takeout, and crack open a beer while tuning into a Friday night football game.
My phone buzzes and I grab it off the coffee table.
Zahra: I know you don’t like any kind of gratitude because you’re shy and all, but that drawing is INCREDIBLE. I just left my meeting after receiving a standing ovation.
There goes my plan to avoid thinking about Dreamland for a couple of days. I go to place my phone back on the table but another message shows up before I have the chance.
Zahra: Okay, that was an exaggeration. But everyone DID clap.
I bite on my cheek as if it can erase the need to smile.
Me: Does anyone tell you that you’re ridiculous?
Zahra: Of course. Ridiculously Amazing happens to be my middle name.
Me: I’m half convinced that you’re crazy.
The next message pops up before I have a chance to breathe.
Zahra: Half convinced? I need to step up my game because I don’t half-ass anything.
I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me. It’s a rough sound I’m not used to hearing.
Me: I see why Rowan hired you.
Am I really going to pretend I’m someone else like this?
Zahra: And I see why he hired you.
Yeah, I am.
Zahra: I’m nothing but smooth if I do say so myself.
I smirk. This is what I’ve been waiting for because I knew she was too good to be true.
Zahra: In case you missed the subtle clue, this is the moment I proposition you.
Me: I don’t think you considered how that sounded.
My text earns me a GIF of someone laughing into their coffee mug. I’m so used to people laughing on cue that I forgot what it’s like to genuinely entertain someone.
My phone rattles in my hand.
Zahra: So how do you feel about us establishing a partnership of sorts?
My response is instantaneous.
Me: No.
Zahra: Come on. You haven’t even heard my proposal yet.
Me: Sorry. My bank doesn’t accept Monopoly money.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. How lame is that?
Somehow my comment gets me a trio of laughing emojis.
Zahra: You’re kind of funny.
Me: I don’t think I’ve been called funny in my life.
I groan as I read the text a second time. I’m making my alter ego into a complete loser, much like my normal self.
Zahra: That’s kind of weird, Scott. Maybe you need to find new friends who appreciate your brand of humor.
Friends? What friends? The higher anyone climbs up the ladder of success, the harder it is to relate to anyone below. Maybe that’s the reason why I enjoy talking to Zahra. It’s not because of her specifically, but rather the idea of letting loose and being myself.
Zahra: So scratch the idea of Monopoly money. I’ll do you one better. I’m willing to pay with food, booze, or whatever it is you like.
Before I have a chance to think up another response, her next text lights up my phone.
Zahra: Are high-quality crayons considered valuable currency in your department? I have a coupon for our local craft store that I borrowed from my mom.
Something in my chest tightens, and although it’s not exactly uncomfortable, it raises an alarm. Yet I don’t heed the warning as I send another message.
Me: How does one borrow a coupon?
Zahra: Well, when you put it that way…consider it a donation.
Is she even for real? And more importantly, why am I smiling at my phone? I wipe the grin from my face and grind my molars together.
Me: Can’t help you. I’m busy with work.
Good. Get out of this before it’s too late.
Zahra: Oh. Right. I understand. Rowan mentioned how the Animators are working hard on some new movies. Are you a part of that?
There’s a weird feeling in my gut that has nothing to do with whatever I ate. I’m not sure why it happens, but everything tells me to avoid it.
Me: I’ve got to go. Ask Rowan for someone else’s help.
There’s a sense of finality to my words that I hope translates through text. I raise the volume on the TV to drown out the thoughts in my head.
My phone vibrates against my thigh a couple of minutes later.
Zahra: I’ll be back with a better offer tomorrow once I sort everything out.
Me: Don’t go selling your kidney.
Fuck me. It’s like I have no control over myself around her.
Zahra: Of course not. That’s plan E. I still have three better options up for grabs.
I curse up to the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I ended up here, joking with someone who doesn’t even know who the hell I really am.
And worse, why am I starting to like it?
My presentation with the board goes flawlessly. Even my father has nothing to comment on besides basic logistical questions about my timeline. I expected more from him, so his calm facade only has me gearing up for the worst.
He’s up to something. I just don’t know what.
“Something’s off about our father.” Declan takes a seat at his desk.
“I’ve noticed the same thing. Today was different from what I came prepared for.” I take a seat diagonally from him. I’m stuck meeting with Declan on my own because Cal skipped out yet again.
“He’s too quiet about the will which only tells me he’s hiding something from us. I’m not sure what to make of it but I’m keeping an eye on him. It’s only a matter of time before he reveals his cards.” Declan rubs his bottom lip.
Iris opens the door with one elbow while juggling our two coffees and a takeout bag filled with our breakfast. “Must you eat so much, Mr. Kane? Your doctor said to watch your cholesterol since you’re getting older.”
Declan might be pushing thirty-six but he’s nothing close to old.
His eyes narrow. “What did I tell you about reading my personal file?”
Iris passes me my coffee and my breakfast sandwich. “Well, how else am I supposed to put together an informational packet for all of your potential suitors without any personal information?”
“Easy. You don’t,” he dryly replies.
“How is the wife search going?” I ask.
Iris grins as she sets up Declan’s breakfast in front of him. Despite my brother’s best efforts to remain professional, his eyes slide from me to Iris’s skirt.
Iris doesn’t even notice. “I can tell you that I’ve been on more dates with women in the last month than your brother has been on for the entirety of me working for him.”
Declan’s eyes remain focused on his secretary as she places his plastic-wrapped utensils in front of him. And here I was feeling bad about kissing Zahra.
I cough, and Declan snaps out of whatever trance he was caught up in. “Iris is pre-vetting the women before I meet with them.”
“And people say romance is dead.”
“What do you expect me to do? Fall in love the old-fashioned way?” Declan sneers.
The idea is laughable. After everything we’ve been through with our father after our mother’s death, none of us have any intention of falling in love. Because if we have learned anything, it’s that the useless emotion makes people weak and powerless. It clouds judgment and has the opportunity to ruin everything.
My father in love was the best kind of man. But my father nursing a broken heart? Disgusting. Pathetic. So lost in his misery that he ruined his own children because he couldn’t stand seeing them happier than him.
No thanks. I’ll take my chances staying married to my job. The divorce rate is far more forgiving.
Iris drops into the chair next to me. “Mr. Kane doesn’t have time to waste, so I’m the next best thing.”
“You do know him best after all these years.” I shrug.
Declan grabs the paper bag from the middle of the desk and removes Iris’s takeout box. He places it in front of her.
Out of all the weird things I’ve seen today, that has to be the strangest thing yet.
“So cut the shit and tell me what’s really going on at Dreamland,” Declan snaps.
I turn my focus from Iris back to my brother, finding his shoulders tense beneath his suit. What about Dreamland unsettles him this much?
Probably the same thing as you.
I go off, sharing my actual report from last week, minus my growing attraction toward my employee.
