Chapter 42
Nora's POV
Jeremy walked onto the balcony with that easy confidence of his, champagne flute in hand and a smile that seemed just a bit too friendly. "There you are! I was wondering where I'd find the people I wanted to see."
Jacey straightened, her expression shifting to something more professional. "Jeremy. Enjoying the circus?"
"Always." He turned to me, his smile widening. "Nora, I have to say—the way you handled Thomas Vaughn tonight? Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
"Thank you," I managed, still trying to shake off the surprise of Jacey's words. Julian likes me? No. That's impossible.
"Jacey, are you trying to poach our star employee?" Jeremy said, moving to stand between us.
Jacey laughed. "Guilty as charged. Though I suspect you won't let her go without a fight."
"Damn right." Jeremy's tone was light but his eyes were sharp. "Nora excels at both professional competence and social management."
He gestured to a passing waiter, who came over with fresh glasses of wine. Jeremy handed one to Jacey, then turned to me with another.
I hesitated, remembering Julian's warning. Be careful with drinks at these events.
But this was Jeremy. My direct supervisor. Someone who valued me. And the wine—it was being poured right in front of me from a bottle the waiter was holding.
It's fine, Nora.
I accepted the glass. "Thank you."
The wine was incredible—rich and smooth, with layers of flavor I'd never tasted before. Nothing like the cheap bottles I occasionally bought for myself.
"This is really good," I said, taking another sip.
"Should be," Jeremy said with a grin. "It's a '98 Bordeaux. One of the sponsors donated a case for tonight."
Jacey was called away by someone inside, leaving Jeremy and me alone on the balcony.
"You know," Jeremy said, his voice dropping to something more confidential, "Mr. Sterling speaks very highly of you."
My heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "He does?"
"Of course." Jeremy leaned against the railing, studying me. "He's always mentioning you in our briefings. 'What does Grey think?' 'Has Grey filed her report yet?' 'Make sure Grey has the resources she needs.'"
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. The wine was making everything feel warmer, softer around the edges.
"He just... he values good work," I said weakly.
"Nora." Jeremy's tone was almost paternal now. "I've been in this system a long time. I know what it looks like when someone at that level takes an interest. Trust me—Sterling's interest in you goes far beyond your case files."
No. Stop. Don't say it out loud.
But some treacherous part of me wanted to hear it. Wanted confirmation that what Jacey had said might actually be true.
"I don't understand what you mean," I said, taking another sip of wine to steady myself.
Jeremy's smile became more meaningful. "Nora. The Cold Creek situation—Sterling is pushing hard for it."
"That's... that's wonderful," I said.
"He cares about that project because you care about it. That's how much influence you have with him." He paused meaningfully. "All of this is because of you."
I didn't know how to react, whether I should believe what he was saying.
Jeremy smiled like he was sharing a secret. "Let me give you some advice, Nora. You're smart. You're dedicated. But you're also a contract worker in a system that eats people like you alive." He paused. "Unless you have someone powerful looking out for you."
"I don't need anyone to—"
"I'm not saying you need a protector," Jeremy interrupted smoothly. "I'm saying you already have one. And not acknowledging that would be... unwise."
My head was starting to feel fuzzy. The wine was stronger than I'd realized.
"What are you suggesting?" I asked.
"I'm suggesting," Jeremy said carefully, "that you could be a little more... proactive. In private. Sterling clearly cares about you. When someone at that level cares, doors open. Budgets get approved. Careers advance."
Something in his tone made my skin crawl, but the alcohol was making it hard to pinpoint exactly what was wrong.
"I don't think—"
"You don't have to think," Jeremy said. His hand touched my shoulder, just briefly. "Just be smart about this opportunity. The Inspector General wants someone who can... appreciate what he's offering."
What he's offering?
My brain was moving through molasses now. The balcony seemed to tilt slightly.
"I need to leave," I mumbled.
"Of course." Jeremy smiled.
Back in the lobby, a hotel employee appeared beside me, presenting me with a key card. "Room 1847, Ms. Grey. Mr. Sterling's arrangements."
I took the card with numb fingers. Everything felt distant now, like I was watching myself from very far away.
As I prepared to leave the lobby for the hotel room upstairs, I caught a glimpse of the hotel employee who'd given me the key card whispering something to Jeremy.
The alcohol made it impossible to think more about it.
I reached the elevator and pressed the button. The elevator ride was a blur.
Arriving at the floor matching my key card, the hallway stretched endlessly. A hotel staff member came over to support my elbow, guiding me toward the corresponding room.
"Here we are," he said, taking the key card from my hand and swiping it. The lock clicked green.
The staff member handed me a brown paper bag. "Toiletries." Then he politely left.
The room was dim, curtains half-drawn. It was an elegant suite with separate living room and bedroom. The air conditioning was on with warm air, the temperature comfortable.
I took off my coat and heels, changed into hotel slippers, and sank into the soft couch. Physical relaxation mixed with inner confusion.
I wanted to wash up before sleeping, but the alcohol made everything blurry and unclear.
After a while, I remembered the paper bag. Toiletries? At least there should be a toothbrush and towels, right?
I sat up and clumsily opened the bag.
But what was inside wasn't toothbrushes or towels.
It was two boxes of elegantly packaged condoms.
I froze completely, my mind going blank. I stared at those two boxes in disbelief, my eyes widening involuntarily.
The paper bag slipped from my hands, the condoms rolling onto the carpet.
I sat dumbly on the couch, wondering if they'd been delivered to the wrong room. I hesitated about whether to call the front desk to ask.
What did this mean? How could...
Shock, confusion, shame—multiple emotions mixed together. I couldn't understand what was happening, but a certain ominous premonition began rising from the bottom of my heart.
Just as I was hesitating whether to make the call, the bedroom door of the suite suddenly opened from inside.