I take the opportunity to observe Zahra while she’s distracted with reading the contract. This weird feeling in my chest hasn’t stopped since she walked into my space, and the way she looks at me makes me feel alert.
Her feet dangle an inch above the carpet, with the edges of her shoes irritatingly grazing the floor. From the offensively cheery strawberry fabric of her dress to the way she laughs, I’m somewhat disarmed by her presence.
I hate it. There’s nothing I want more than for her to be gone from my eyesight and olfactory range.
I pull at the tie wrapped around my collar to relieve some of the tension in my neck. My eyes drop to the stupid pin located above the curve of her breast.
Bloom even when the sun doesn’t shine.
She’s an uncomfortable bright spot in my office, and I’m tempted to shoo her out the door.
She frowns as she turns the page. The gesture brings my attention to the red coloring on her lips. It stands out against her golden-brown skin, and I find myself uncharacteristically focused on the way her tongue darts out to trace her cupid’s bow. Heat trickles down my spine as I imagine those lips doing something else.
What the fuck? No. I let out a huff, ignoring the warmth spreading throughout my body.
Her nose scrunches at whatever she reads.
“Problem?” I grind out with clenched teeth.
She doesn’t even flinch. “No.”
“You’ve reviewed the same page twice already.”
She tilts her head and looks at me in a way that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. “I’m flattered you’ve been paying such close attention to me.”
I refrain from releasing a groan. Whatever look she registers on my face has her grinning to herself.
She taps the paper with her pen. “Contracts like these require my full and undivided attention. I’m not signing anything before I have a chance to read the fine print.”
“You’re not special enough for any fine print.”
She doesn’t look the least bit offended by my comment which only irritates me more. What is it about this woman, and why can’t she fall in line like everyone else? It’s like she shits sprinkles and consumes rainbows for sustenance. I’m not sure what kind of fairy tale forest she was raised in, but no one can be this optimistic about everything.
“You’re nothing like your grandfather described.”
The wooden armrests groan under my tight grip. “What did you say?” The only reason my voice comes out flat and disinterested is because of years of practice.
She stares at my white-knuckled fists. “Forget I said anything. It slipped out.”
One simply can’t forget something like that. I’m stuck between pushing her for answers and looking unbothered by her comment. “Whatever my grandfather said to a stranger in passing is nothing short of casual conversation.”
She laughs to herself but says nothing else. My skin itches for more information, but she remains tight-lipped as she returns her attention back to the contract.
That’s it? “How did you catch yourself in a conversation with my grandfather?” I blurt out.
She shrugs at my wide-eyed expression. “Fate. And it was conversations. Plural.”
Great. I’m betting my entire fortune on someone who believes in fate. “And what happened during these conversations?”
“That’s between Brady and me.”
Brady? This is the second time I’ve heard her call him that.
She interrupts my thoughts with a knowing smile. “He had quite a bit to say about you.”
The tightness in my chest intensifies. “Part of me doesn’t want to know.”
Her grin widens. “But part of you can’t help being curious.”
I roll my eyes which only makes her whole face light up like a damn Dreamland firework. I’ve never seen someone look at me like that before. It’s strange. Like she’s genuinely interested in my company rather than the idea of getting something out of me.
My skin itches under her assessment.
“Don’t worry. He didn’t say too much about you except that you were the dreamer of the three grandkids. And he was very excited for you to take over as the Director one day. Said it was your calling, so I’m sure he would be happy to see you in his office, destroying his favorite chair.” She gestures at the armrests I hold on to like a life-preserver. I release my grip and crack my knuckles.
“That’s all?”
“For the most part. Sorry to disappoint. We were pretty busy working on other things, but I remember how highly he spoke of his grandsons.”
The burning in my chest increases tenfold. I take a few deep breaths to ease the tension in my muscles.
Zahra scribbles her signature on the bottom of the page and passes it back to me. I purposefully swipe my fingers across hers as I grab the contract. The same weird feeling from earlier sparks between us, making me pause. Zahra sucks in a breath and pulls away, tucking her hand under the layers of her dress.
Interesting. It seems our connection wasn’t a one-off.
“When do I start?” She rises from her seat and runs a hand across the length of her dress.
I drag my eyes away from the curve of her waist toward her face. “Monday. Be here at 9 a.m. sharp.”
“Thank you for the opportunity. Really. I might have been shocked earlier when I said no, but I do really appreciate it. I don’t plan on letting you down.” A flush of color surges to the surface of her brown cheeks.
I find her reactions to the simplest things interesting. What else would make her blush? An image of her red-painted lips wrapped around something incredibly inappropriate flickers through my mind.
She’s on your payroll. Get a fucking grip on yourself. I frown at the uncontrollable reaction spreading through my body like a row of falling dominos. I’ve never been the type to be attracted to those who work under me.
What’s different about her and how can I stop it?
I release a tense breath. “See yourself out.” I grab her contract and add it to the stack of paperwork for Martha to handle.
Zahra grabs her backpack off the floor. She stands and turns on her heel, giving me a view of at least fifty different pins scattered across the pocket.
What’s the story with the pins, and why does she carry them with her wherever she goes?
I stop breathing as I zone in on one pin in particular. It catches my attention not because it’s bold but rather because it’s so different than all the other ones. No normal person would notice that pin out of the countless ones, but I’m all too familiar with the symbol and what it represents.
Maybe there’s more to Little Miss Bubbly than meets the eye, and something tells me it has to do with the understated black semicolon pin.
“How’s it going?” Declan leans into the camera.
“My schedule has been slammed with meetings from nine to nine but I finally think I have an idea of what I need to do.” All thanks to Zahra.
“At least I have one brother taking this seriously.” Declan takes a shot at Cal.
His jaw locks. “I’m waiting for a particular moment.”
“Sounds like an excuse.” I shrug.
He rubs his eyebrow with his middle finger.
Declan sighs. “Rowan, let’s concentrate on your plan first. I’ll get to Cal after.”
“I don’t need you trying to micromanage me. Have a little trust in my process and let me go about this my way. I’ve already proven myself.”
Declan rubs a hand across his stubble. “There’s a lot more banking on this one project. If any of us fails—”
My molars smash together. “Then we all fail. I got it the first five times you mentioned it. Give me space to figure this all out. You don’t see me chasing after you, checking in on whether or not you found a wife that meets your unreasonable standards.”
“There are no standards in this process because it’s a contractual obligation. All I care about is finding someone who’s practical, fertile, and has a face considered proportionate enough to be deemed attractive.”
Cal grins. “With that kind of charm, I bet you’ll be walking down the aisle in no time.”
Declan shoots a withering glare into the camera.
“Will I be your best man? Before you decide, think about it. Rowan wouldn’t know the first thing about planning a bachelor party. He considers puffing cigars at your house a good time.”
“That’s because it is a good time.”
“Think about it. I’m talking Vegas. Buffets. Strip clubs. Casinos.” Cal ticks off each of his fingers.
“If you’re trying to sell me on this, you lost me at Vegas.”
I laugh. “Declan’s happy place happens to be the four walls of his home.”
Cal rubs his stubbled chin. “Okay. I’ll compromise and bring Vegas to you.”
“Neither of you will be my best man because I’m eloping.”
Cal scoffs. “You and Rowan are so boring it’s no wonder you both get along so well. Only you would skip out on a massive party for eloping.”
Declan shows off the small smile he saves for us. “You sound jealous.”
“Mr. Kane. Mr. Johnson is waiting on line one. A fair warning—he’s in a foul mood.” Declan’s mic picks up on Iris’s voice.
“Old man Johnson still giving Iris a hard time?” Cal leans forward.
“Did he threaten you again?” He mutes his mic. Whatever Iris says makes the vein in Declan’s neck pulse.
Declan shakes his head and unmutes his mic after a minute.
Cal frowns. “One day, you’re going to regret making Iris work on weekends. The best years of her life are ticking by taking care of your old, grumpy ass.”
Declan’s jaw ticks. “Next week. Same time.” He ends the meeting call, leaving me with nothing to look at but a black screen.
Instead of going home and making dinner for myself, I pull up Zahra’s electronic employee file. Something in the way she spoke about my grandfather has bothered me ever since she left my office. I’d be stupid to trust whatever she said about Grandpa.
Nothing in my preliminary search reveals much besides the fact that she’s been a dedicated salon worker since her college internship days.
Frustrated with my lack of findings, I dive deeper into her file, reviewing everything from her first Dreamland interview to her college transcripts. I somehow find myself clicking on an old employee submission from over three years ago and scrolling to the bottom. There’s a virtual sticky note, signed and dated by my grandfather two months before his accident.
Schedule a meeting with Ms. Gulian to discuss rejection and improvements.
I review the paperwork again. Zahra submitted a proposal about Nebula Land? That’s odd, given the kind of proposal she turned in that ripped the ride apart.
I pull up the Nebula Land submission that was accepted by the Creators two years ago and compare Zahra’s to this version. Someone named Lance Baker submitted the idea with a few more bells and whistles compared to Zahra’s more basic proposal. How did they both come up with similar ideas? Were they creative partners who had a dispute?
My questions continue to grow without any real answers to appease my curiosity. I search Zahra’s file for more submissions but come up empty. She didn’t submit any after the one my grandfather reviewed until this year.
What made her stop in the first place? And who the hell is Lance Baker?
