Brothers of Paradise Series

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that a new rule?”

“No, we’ve had it forever.”

“Liar.”

I step away from the model, putting my hands in my pockets. The space feels good-my head already clearer. “Whenever you work late for me, taxis are on the firm. Doesn’t matter when the rule was made.”

“I can handle myself.”

I frown. Does everything have to be an argument? “It’s a perk. Take it.”

She rolls her eyes at me-again!-and starts packing up her things. “We’ll have to work on this a lot next week, after you get back from Chicago. The deadline is in July?”

“Yes.”

She frowns. “Your time off is next week, right? Thursday and Friday?”

“Yes,” I say again. She’s speaking to me like we’re a team. Like we’re friends, like she enjoys the battle of wits. It’s been a long time since I had that kind of connection with someone.

“We’ll have to work a few nights next week too, don’t you think?”

I clear my throat. “Yes. Regarding that, though…”

“Yes?”

“Do you feel up to the challenge of playing my date again?”

Faye’s eyebrows rise. Her eyes gleam with light again, the same competitive flare we share. She’ll never say no to a challenge I give her.

“I take it you were pleased with my performance at the gala, then.”

I nod, remembering her dry commentary. “Yes. I’m going to a wedding next weekend and I’m expected to bring a date. We’d be gone three nights, and we’d be able to use most of the time during the days to work on the project.”

“A wedding,” she repeats slowly.

“Yes. You’d be paid for the overtime, of course. Handsomely.”

She clears her throat, a flush rising on her cheeks. “Would we have our own quarters?”

“Yes. Separate bedrooms.”

“This is…”

“Unorthodox? Yes. Take some time to think about it. We can discuss it when I get back from Chicago.”

Faye swings her bag over her shoulder. “All right, I will.”

“And take a taxi home.”

She nods and heads out, but pauses by the door to my office. Her eyes flit back to mine. “One final question. Whose wedding is it?”

“My sister’s,” I reply. Her eyebrows shoot high, and I have to work to keep my face impassive. She’ll have more questions for me before the week is out, that’s for sure. “Good night, Miss Alvarez, and good luck on your pitch tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs, the door closing behind her with a soft snick.

I release a breath, unsure if what I’ve just set in motion is unbelievably stupid, outrageously reckless, or the best thing I’ve done in years.

Faye

I reach for my phone and deactivate my useless alarm. The time is barely six a. m., but I’m wide awake, and I know I won’t be getting any more sleep. Might as well get up. I swing my legs out of bed and walk the few steps to my kitchen. Make coffee. Say hello to my palm tree.

God, the night had been such an exercise in patience. Tossing and turning, my mind racing from one thought to the other. I don’t think I’ve gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

I’m pitching today. It’s my first chance in months to be a genuine architect, to represent the firm next to Terri. For Elliot Ferris, I pitched regularly, but that doesn’t stop the nerves in my stomach.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Terri had been professional about the whole thing after Kyle was taken off the project, and I’d been nothing but efficient back. It didn’t exactly surprise me that the bad apple in that collaboration had been Kyle. There were plenty of people like him in this industry, who were quietly competitive in every interaction, every discussion. It was draining.

But that wasn’t the only reason I had trouble sleeping. Be my date.

Oh, to what, Henry?

My sister’s wedding.

The man had lost his damn mind.

I try to blink the tiredness out of my eyes in the shower, letting the warm water wash away my qualms and fears. He was asking it as a favor, as my boss, as a someone with a crucial deadline only a few weeks after the wedding. We’d handled the Founders’ Gala admirably. Why wouldn’t we be able to handle a weekend away?

The woman I see in my bathroom mirror is determined-and very obviously tired-but definitely determined. Somehow, I managed to get this job. I’m not going to risk un-getting it just because my boss happens to be handsome as sin and can command a room like some ancient, conquering hero.

If there’s one thing I’ve always been good at it, it’s planning. Strategy. It’s how I got through years of college with extra jobs, how I’m managing to pay off my student debt aggressively each month. It’s the hours I spent in the library studying elevation and structure.

If Henry Marchand wants a date for his family wedding, I’d be the epitome of a perfect date. And whenever I could, I’d work on his opera house, helping him improve the beautiful structure. I’d just have to make sure I got something in return for it-something that would help me career-wise.

And keep my pointless attraction to him hidden.

Easy, peasy.

My mom calls as I’m on my way to work. As always, my chest warms when I hear her familiar voice. Neither she nor my dad understands the business I’m in all that well, but they’ve never been anything but supportive.

“Good luck today, sweetie,” she tells me. “We have complete confidence in you.”

My dad pops on the phone. “Knock them dead, mija.”

My heart is full when we hang up. It’s been too long since I went back home to visit, and talking to them again has reminded me of that.

New York is a beat under my feet. In the summer sun, the city is on fire, music drifting from open windows and the smell of sun lotion on hot skin. On days like this, it’s easy to remember why I came here. Why I was drawn to the pace, the people, the power of this city. It’s a place that has seen things, and when I was twenty-two, I’d seen nothing at all.

Around me, skyscrapers rise like giants, reaching for the sky. Immovable, innumerable, they’re testaments to the vision of architects and builders. If they’re well-constructed, they’ll be here after I’m gone. The brick-stone buildings that are intermingled with them definitely will be.