"That doesn't make it less embarrassing," I murmur. If anything, it makes it more so. Not only does he know how much I detest heights, but he also knows I braved them in order to spend more time with him. I should've just sent him another email with the words I can't stop thinking about you and be done with it.
"I don't know what you mean by that."
I give a tiny shake of my head. "Never mind."
His thumb moves over the back of my hand in a small, tight circle. "Joshua took to you quickly," he says. "I was… surprised."
A thousand questions I want to ask, and the only thing I can focus on is keeping my cool. "Oh?"
"Yes." A snort. "He doesn't understand what I do for a living, and I wonder if today will only confuse him more."
My lips tug. "Well, venture capitalism is a difficult concept to explain to a kid."
"It is." His voice darkens, close by my ear. "It wasn't one of your guesses, either, when you tried to think of what I worked with."
The memory of the Gilded Room washes over me, of us sitting just like this, me draped over him on a couch in a dark alcove.
My stomach tightens. "I wasn't imaginative enough."
"Or venture capitalist didn't sound sexy enough."
I swallow, my eyes still shut. "No, it's sexy."
Complete silence.
Damn it. I open an eye, only to see him regarding me with a raised eyebrow. The darkness in his eyes swirls with humor. "So you weren't disappointed I wasn't a mafia boss, then?"
"Honestly… I was disappointed when I found out you were the CEO of Exciteur."
His mouth opens. "You were?"
"Yes," I murmur. "Because it meant we could never meet at a Gilded Room party again."
His dark eyes bore into mine, quiet for a long time. I don't see the landscape moving behind him. I barely register the hitch in the carriage when we finally return from our second lap, stopping at the bottom.
I've said too much.
But then he murmurs something that slides across my skin like silk, his hands letting mine go. "So was I, Freddie."
The Thanksgiving Family Day had gone off without a hitch. Luke, William and I had pulled it off, and even if it was more event management than project management, I'm still proud. Smiling to myself, I take a step back and survey the newly framed pictures on my dresser. The pictures I'd had enlarged had arrived in the mail just yesterday, one of my grandfather, another of my parents.
Three of the hardest-working people I know. Also the three people who believe in me the most. My parents had bought a bottle of champagne when I'd gotten the email telling me I'd been accepted into the junior professionals program at Exciteur.
Right next to their photos is my framed college diploma and a few books on business, completing the vignette.
It's my shrine to success.
One day, I think, looking around my tiny studio apartment, I won't live in a place without an oven again. All I have is a one-top stove, a microwave, and a miniature refrigerator.
Which is also empty.
I close the fridge door and glance at my watch. The deli down the street is open for another hour… it would make it my fourth time this week. Am I shameless enough?
Absolutely.
I've just pulled on my jacket when my phone rings, and the number is familiar, sending my heart racing. We haven't spoken since the Thanksgiving Family Day and I haven't even seen him at work. Not that I'd be able to talk to him there, even if I did.
I hit answer. "Hello?"
"Freddie."
"Tristan." My hand fumbles with the key. "How are you?"
Humor colors his voice, as if he's amused at my attempt at normalcy. "Good. How are you?"
"Excellent? That's great to hear."
"What can I do for you?"
"I wanted to see how you're doing with your task, the one we spoke about on the phone a few weeks ago."
"The mole in the Strategy Department."
"The very one."
I pull out the lone chair at my table and sit down. "I haven't discovered anything yet. I'm keeping my eyes open, though. Perhaps once I'm invited to more senior meetings."
"Hmm. I wonder if we can fast-track that somehow."
I frown. "I'm not sure… that is, I want to prove myself by my work."
"I have no doubt you'll do just that, Freddie."
"Thank you." I reach down and pull on one of my boots. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, and the nip in the air has turned into a taste of winter. "I really am trying to overhear things, though. I'm not sure how much sneakier I can be. If I come into work in a trench coat and a newspaper with holes in it, they'll start to suspect something."
Tristan's deep laugh rumbles through the phone. "It's almost an idea worth considering."
"The mole might run, knowing we're on to him. You'd have to have security chase him."
"Or her," he adds. "My company is committed to gender equality."
"How noble of you."
"We all do what we can."
I bite my lip, smiling into the phone. We shouldn't be calling like this. Talking like this. And yet here we are.
"Thank you for last week," I say. "At the fair."