Corner Office Confessions

“You’re not,” Kassidy said. “I’m telling you. No way my friend is living in some little shack overlooking a dumpster.”

Sliding out of Kassidy’s side embrace, Arlie picked up the oversized photography books she’d set up on the small coffee table, needing to be busy. Needing to get this done. “I don’t know, Kassidy.”

“Come on.” Her friend broke into a mock whine. “It will be just like the old days. Only we’ll be able to drink wine and watch all the naked men we want.”

Arlie laughed, remembering the time Kassidy’s famously strict father had caught them with a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill and a bootleg Blu-ray of Blue Lagoon. They’d both ended up grounded for a month of summer break.

“I’ll think about it.”

A knock on her office door sent Arlie’s heart racing. She turned around slowly, hoping to God she didn’t see Parker, or worse—Samuel—standing there.

Thankfully, it was neither.

Mason slouched in the doorframe, handsome and carefree, if a bit rumpled. “Say it ain’t so.”

So much for Charlotte waiting to give Mason her letter.

“It’s so.” Arlie cushioned a mug full of pens in her office sweater and nestled the bundle into the box. “All of it.”

Crossing the office, Mason dropped into a chair opposite the desk. “Look, what happened between you and Samuel doesn’t need to end your employment at Kane Foods.”

“I thought my sleeping with your brother was a pretty clear violation of your father’s one and only inviolable rule.”

“Wait.” Mason’s tawny brows gathered in the center of his smooth, tanned forehead. “What?”

Arlie’s cheeks flamed scarlet. “I... You... What were you referring to?”

“After the conversation we had in the convention hall and what happened at the sand dunes, I just assumed—”

“Sand dunes?” Kassidy stopped short, a print of Ansel Adams’ Half Dome clutched in her hands. “What happened at the sand dunes?”

Mason leaned forward in his chair. “You’re saying, you and Samuel—?”

“Try to keep up, Kane,” Kassidy interrupted. “There was mutual groping on the yacht and they hooked up at your family’s winery. Accurate?” Kassidy cut her eyes to Arlie.

“Yes, but—”

“What we all seem to be unclear about is what went down after the sand dunes. Perhaps Arlie could enlighten us?” Seating herself in the chair next to Mason, Kassidy propped one long, legging-clad ankle on the opposite knee.

So, she did. Describing the ambulance ride, the hospital, her escorting Samuel up to the hotel room afterward. And, at last, coming to the part she really wasn’t looking forward to.

She paused, looking Mason in the eye. “I’m afraid this next part might be upsetting. And if you’d rather ask Samuel yourself—”

“I’m a big boy,” he said in a flirty tone that might have been for Kassidy’s benefit. “I can take it.”

Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. “That night, at the Fairmont, Samuel told me the real reason he’d hired me.”

Genuine confusion etched a crease in Mason’s brow. “What do you mean the real reason?”

“He was hoping that, given a chance to bag the one conquest who had escaped you, you’d break your father’s cardinal rule and get yourself ejected from the company.” She glanced nervously at Mason. “Permanently.”

Mason huffed a breath, leaning back in his chair. Stripped of his usual cavalier, devil-may-care countenance, the younger Kane looked—dare she say it—thoughtful.

“Samuel went through all that trouble just to get rid of me?”

Arlie observed him carefully, looking for signs of reaction to this information, unsure what to expect.

A frown flickered at the corners of his mouth, but didn’t quite land. His eyes unfocused as he contemplated the space beyond Arlie’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have—”

“No.” Mason shook his head emphatically as he stood. “No, this is good.”

“Good?” Arlie asked incredulously. “How can this possibly be good?”