The Girlfriend

Chapter Twenty-One

Patrick

I should have said no when Charles called, and I should have known exactly what Jon's reaction was going to be when I talked to Lydia. I don't know why I said yes but as I approached the office, I knew it was something I wanted to do. Jon's voice echoed in my head while I pulled up to the curb and got out, pausing to look up at the building.

Jon stood in front of my desk; hands braced on the lacquered wood. "Don't you want to make something of yourself instead of just following in their footsteps?" he demanded. "Come on, Patrick, I know you don't want to be a paper-pusher – you've got so many better options."

I looked down at my new Rolex. Vintage, my third or fourth now and the first thing I bought with my trust fund. "I don't even know if mum would go for it," I replied finally.

"I can talk to Lucy; you know how much she likes me."

I sighed and slouched back in my executive chair. "And where would we even go? Buildings back in New York aren't easy to find for the type of office you want, and you haven't even told me what position I'd have."

"Chief financial officer. You'd be in charge of managing the assets instead of just being a figurehead. All I need is your name, a check, and I can get us an office space by Monday." He held out his hand and smiled at me, his glacial eyes were unnerving. "What do you say, Pat?"

I couldn't believe it had been nearly fifteen years; the glass and steel building looked just as new and shiny now as it did then. I half-owned a company before I was even a practicing lawyer in New York, I'd lost it before I turned forty, and now I was about to walk through the lobby again for god only knew what reason.

Jogging to the steps, I pushed my sunglasses up and reached for the handle. The mirrored door swung open and a blast from the heater greeted me. I stood just inside the doorway, watching the receptionist at the circular desk and listening to the people talking. It was hard to believe that until about two weeks ago I was barred from even entering the building.

I assessed the people walking around and slipped my sunglasses into my jacket pocket as I approached the desk. "Hey, Jessa," I greeted casually. "Am I allowed to just go on up or should I wait for Charles down here?"

She hit a button on her phone and I heard her headset beep. "You can go on up, Mr. Rosing, Charles and Ms. Bower are waiting for."

Ms. Bower. Christine? What was she doing here? I thanked Jessa and continued on to the elevator. One younger man looked at me, paled and immediately stepped back, leaving me alone in the small lift. I smirked to myself and tipped my head back, looking up at the mirrored ceiling in amusement. I'd forgotten how good it felt to be powerful, to watch other people go out of their way to do things for me. I knew it made me sound like a prick, but everyone liked that feeling once in a while and I wasn't an exception.

The elevator climbed to the top floor and felt like I was stepping back in time when I crossed the threshold to the foyer. Jon's floor was special; the elevator opened up to several conference rooms and down the hallway, there was a large, glassed in area – Lydia's old office, it served as a second reception area. The glass was frosted, and I restrained myself from touching it reverently, thinking about how it felt to see her sitting behind the desk with her face contorted into a mask of ecstasy from the vibrators we made her use.

There was no one sitting in her black leather chair now, no cute bubbly blonde to jump up in her too-short skirt and offer to get me coffee while I waited. It was always going to be my fault that we had been outed; I knew when I took her on our first date that I should have stopped her from telling whoever she wanted, but I didn't because it felt good – like waving a big flag that said 'she chose me!' embroidered on it in big red letters. We moved so fast...