Page 41 of Not In The Contract

I frowned at my black ballet flats. “I didn’t want to be underdressed,” I explained.

Alex waved a hand. “You don’t have to dress up for the office,” she said. “It’s better if you’re comfortable. You’ll be able to work better if you’re not worrying about what you’re wearing.”

That was… surprisingly kind of her to say. “Thanks.”

“I’d advise sneakers next time,” she added. “I won’t expect you to follow me onto the sites for safety reasons, but the terrain can be a little unforgiving regardless.”

“Next time?” I parroted in confusion, wondering why I couldn’t just run back upstairs to grab my sneakers.

But Alex was on her feet, depositing her empty mug in the sink and looking at me expectantly.

I glanced at my watch and swore under my breath. “Shit, time to go?”

Alex nodded and walked toward the front door, not pausing to make sure I was following. Not that she needed to just then. I’d snatched up my tote and sprinted to catch up to her just as her hand rested on the door handle.

The drive to Alex’s office was tense, almost tight with the cautious awkwardness between us. I spent the time furiously reading through Alex’s schedule alongside my own, but the color-coded blocks bled into each other.

By the time we arrived at Bell Construction I was dizzy with motion sickness. I hobbled out of the car after Alex, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the building in front of us.

I should have downed the coffee, I thought. Something told me I’d need the caffeine boost before long.

“I like to get to work before our official working hours begin,” Alex told me. “It’s easier to move about the building before my employees clock in. And the quiet is something I enjoy.”

“Does it get particularly rowdy?” I asked, for lack of anything else to say. Admittedly, I was too busy taking in the opulence of the building climbing high into the heavy clouds above us.

Alex chuckled quietly, scanning a card at the entrance and stepping through the gates. “I wouldn’t say it’s rowdy so much as it is lively,” she said. “I imagine people think corporate companies are dreary, boring places, but you’d be surprised at the entertainment you can find in the halls here.”

Once again, confusion trickled into my thoughts, the juxtaposition of this stern, unbending woman so at odds with how she viewed the world around her. Alex’s perspectives hinted at a sense of freedom, or at least alongingfor it, and yet she’d bound herself to an insanely rigid schedule that dictated her every decision every day.

And that was only the latest instance.

When she’d cooked dinner for both of us anddishedmine herself, it’d stunned me into silence for a long while. I’d imagined her to be someone who was stubbornly alone; the kind born of self imposed isolation. And yet, she’d put food on my plate before her own.

As if she hadn’t even thought about it.

I thought back to Paula’s first mention of Alex, and how her voice had turned warm when she spoke about the Alex from her memories. As a student of psychology, I knew that the versions people presented were seldom their true selves. And yet, everything Alex said and did seemed natural to her. As if these conflicting traits were all just sides to the same coin.

It fascinated me as much as it bewildered me.

And later, when I was being ushered from a long meeting and into the car for yet another site visit.

Alex’s assistants rushed around us, chattering to each other as they shuffled paperwork along a conveyor belt of sorts from one department to another.

I’d hoped for a breath of fresh air on the site visits, but the air was full of shrieking metal and groaning concrete, the dust swirling around like a swelling sandstorm.

In the midst of the chaos, Alex stood tall, her shoulders set and face calm. As ifshewas the serenity at the eye of it all. She watched over the rush of movement, directing the flow of it where it needed to go. A pillar of unshakeable granite. It was a little intimidating, if I was being honest.

It only stopped when Alex called me into her office hours later, her lunch on her desk.

“Take a seat,” she said, looking far more unfazed than I felt. She cut into her steak with efficient, quick strokes. “How are you managing?”

“Can I be honest?”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t.”

“It’s overwhelming,” I admitted, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. “I can’t remember the last time my feet ached before lunch.”

Alex’s brow furrowed in thought. “I didn’t consider that,” she murmured. “Perhaps we can do something a little less physically taxing?”