Page 44 of Love by Design (Club Rapture: Risk Aware #1)

SILAS

T uesday, I couldn’t sit down at work with Cory.

Wednesday wasn’t much better, but by Thursday, I could manage a couple hours at a time before having to get up and stretch my legs to ease the ache of the bruises on the backs of my thighs and my ass.

Marshall had done a number on me Monday night, and the worst part was, I’d deserved it and more.

I’d lied to him, for no reason at all. Marshall had never done anything short of putting me above him in almost all things, and for me to worry he’d be mad about my work on a competing bid—in hindsight—was ludicrous.

He’d been particularly sweet the rest of the week, whispering very affectionate praise every morning when I tied his shoes, and even better kisses when I brought him his coffee.

I’d been at his house the whole week, but I was looking forward to getting back to my apartment and my things on Friday night.

At least, for a little while.

We’d agreed I’d have my usual date with Lincoln, and he would have dinner with his brothers, all four of them, and then we’d meet up at Rapture. Lincoln would come if he wanted, but at the end of the night, we would go our separate ways .

When I pulled into the parking garage at work, my nerves about Cahuenga Pass were beginning to get the better of me. I truly believed Marshall didn’t care if he lost the bid or not, but I cared.

I cared.

And I found myself with no time to reconcile those feelings because when I walked into the office, Cory sat on the edge of a clean conference room table, bottle of champagne and two glasses to his right.

“Good morning,” I said, pushing open the door and joining him in the space that had become a second, or rather third home to me over the last week.

He smiled brightly and raised the champagne.

“It is,” he agreed.

The cork popped and champagne fizzed, and my heart somersaulted behind my sternum before sinking to the floor.

“Did you win it?” I rasped.

“I didn’t,” he said, pouring two flutes of champagne at eight-thirty in the morning. “You did.”

“I hardly?—”

He cut me off by jumping off the table and thrusting a champagne glass into my hand. “It was one hundred percent your thoughts and input that sealed this deal, Silas. If you want to have a lasting career in this industry, especially in this city, you’ve got to stop selling yourself short.”

I thought about annotating my article for Marshall, and then I thought about the way my father had thrown my ideas into the trash.

“Force of habit,” I murmured, clinking the rim of our glasses together and taking a sip. My mouth still tasted like coffee, but the bubbles helped me ease into a more celebratory mood.

My phone vibrated an incoming call in my pocket, and I realized I still had my messenger bag slung over my shoulder. I hadn’t even unpacked for the day before Cory had ambushed me with praise. Cocking a shoulder down, I dropped my bag into a chair and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

“It’s Marshall,” I said, flashing Cory the screen.

“I’m sure he’s calling to congratulate you. I’ll give you some privacy and then we’ll regroup.” Cory raised his glass again, then let himself out of the conference room.

I answered the call and sank down into one of the chairs. I didn’t even feel the bruising on my ass. My entire body was numb from the shock.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Are you at work?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yes. I…Marshall, I…”

“Congratulations, sweetheart.” He sounded so fucking sincere, so proud. “No one deserved this more than you.”

“You did.”

“The email in my inbox says otherwise.”

I let out a long breath. “I haven’t seen the email. I just walked in, and Cory was here with champagne and then you called.”

“Mr. Covington,” he said, clearing his throat. “While your submission on Cahuenga Pass was remarkable in its composition, we regrettably find you outdone by Cory Callahan and Silas Ayres.”

I blinked hard, swiveling the chair around and setting down my champagne flute before I dropped it on the floor.

“It says my name?”

“It says your name. Equal placement.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my fingertips against my eyelids until I saw stars. How did the thing I’d wanted for so long—recognition—taste so bitter? It was unfair that Marshall losing the bid was the cost, cruel that my dad…

My dad .

“Do you think they emailed my dad the same thing?” I asked.

“I doubt they called him Mr. Covington, and it would be a stretch to call anything he’s done remarkable, but…”

“Shit.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzed with another incoming call. I didn’t even need to look at my screen to know who it was.

“Is he calling?” Marshall asked.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to answer it, you know,” he said gently. “You can talk to him on your own time and your own terms.”

It was a weird thing, not being beholden to a man who didn’t appreciate me. I stared at my dad’s caller ID on the screen until my lack of movement sent him to voicemail.

“Are you there?” Marshall asked me.

“I’m here.”

“You don’t have to talk to him at all,” he said.

“I can’t just ignore him forever.”

“Of course you can. That’s what my mother did.”

A silence fell and my phone gave a quick buzz in my hand to let me know there was a voicemail waiting for me.

“I’m sorry she did that,” I told him.

“I’m not. It’s what gave me my brothers, what led me to you.”

I made a dismissive sound. “That feels a stretch.”

“It’s not for you to decide.” Marshall hummed. “I just wanted to call and congratulate you on a well-deserved win, Silas. I’m looking forward to celebrating with you later tonight.”

His voice dipped into a low rumble, and pleasure arced up the length of my spine.

“I’m looking forward to it too.”

“I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “I love you too. ”

The call disconnected, and I dropped my phone onto the table, knowing there was still a voicemail hanging over my head. My dad could be angry or resigned, and I wasn’t sure which I preferred, so I left the message for another time, like Marshall had told me I could.

Sipping my champagne, I headed through the office until I found Cory behind his desk with his brow furrowed. He so rarely looked anything besides easygoing, it was an uncomfortable look to see on his face.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

He schooled his expression. “Everything is perfect. I just have an overbearing friend who needs to move across the country if he wants more control over my life is all.”

Closing his laptop, Cory again raised his champagne in a toast. I mirrored the motion and let the bubbles chase away the anxious bile that had built up in my throat when I saw my dad’s name come up on my phone.

“Is Marshall taking the loss in stride?” Cory asked.

“Seems like it.”

“And…your dad?”

I shrugged. “He called, but I haven’t listened to his message.”

He gave me a tight smile. “Fair enough. We need to go through the project and get a little more specific with the timeline so I can send that over, and I think things are going to get rolling pretty quickly on this one.”

I nodded, still dumbstruck.

“I have a couple others that landed on my desk this week I’d like you to look at as well. One in Orange County and another in New York.”

“New York?”

“It’s where I’m from originally,” he said, standing up and tucking his laptop under one arm.

“What brought you to LA? ”

“A man.”

Of course it was a man. Wasn’t it always a man?

Cory walked around from behind his desk, and I realized we were clearly heading back for another day of work in the conference room. He could have rented just the conference room and saved himself some money, but it was his business, not mine, and I wasn’t about to tell him how to run it.

I could start my own business, I realized. Which had always felt like a possibility that was just out of reach for me. Even when I’d imagined inheriting the firm from my dad, small as it was, it had always felt like it was his. Something for me to take over, not something for me to build.

There was something in that idea, and I frowned at it, leading the way to the conference room. It didn’t feel like an overstep to take the lead, and Cory and I worked well together, opening our laptops and sitting down at the table side by side. As peers and partners.

I spent the rest of the morning reviewing his other two projects while he began a draft of the timeline on Cahuenga Pass, and when we broke for lunch, I would have sworn the voicemail from my dad was burning a hole in my pocket.

For lunch, I headed toward the beach to a little sandwich shop I only went to when I wanted to celebrate something.

I’d have to share it with Marshall one day, but after the rush of the morning and the phone calls and the work on two new bids, I wanted some time to myself.

Some quiet to think. But while I waited for my roast beef and cheddar, my finger hovered over the voicemail from my dad.

Instead of pressing it, I called Lincoln…and woke him up.

“Were you really asleep?” I asked when he yawned loudly into my ear.

“Really asleep. What time is it?”

“Noon, buddy. It’s noon.”

He made a very disbelieving sound in my ear that turned into a stretch and a moan. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I am, but it’s lunchtime.”

“Lunchtime,” he repeated, yawning again.

“I’ll let you get back to sleep”—I laughed—"but I wanted to let you know Cory and I got the job.”

“You what?” Lincoln was wide awake now, and I had to cover my face with a cupped hand to hide my smile and my blush.

“We got the job.”

“The one your dad fucked up?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“The one your boyfriend thought he was going to win?”

My heart twisted, but not as badly as before. “That’s the one.”

“Fuck yes!”

I could picture Lincoln in bed, tangled in his sheets, fist pumping the air in celebration.

“Now I’m definitely coming out with you and Marshall later tonight. Celebration blow jobs for everyone!”

“You didn’t even do anything,” I teased.