“It’s for that residential project you helped me with. Do you remember that house a few weeks ago?” he asked.
“Yes! I loved that house.”
He logged onto his email, pulled up the design, and walked me through the changes Mitch had sent over.
Sitting on his lap as he worked at my computer ended up being the most fun date I’d had in a while. (I guess I couldn’t make fun of him for being a nerd. Talk about pot calling the kettle black.)
When he was done sending Mitch a reply, I handed him his glass of wine and pulled out my cell phone.
“Now, it’s my turn to teach you something,” I said as he swiveled in my desk chair to face me.
He quirked a brow in interest and pulled me down to sit on his lap.
“What are you going to teach me?” he asked, kissing my shoulder.
“The art of a prank call.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
On Monday morning I had two missions to complete:
1. Arrive early for a design meeting with Alan, Mark, and Peter to finalize our company’s design submission.
2. Arrive twenty minutes before that meeting so I could complete my own submission.
That morning, I’d put on a black silk blouse and black slacks in an attempt to look and feel like a badass ninja, but as I took the elevator up to the twentieth floor, my confidence began to wane.
Two weeks ago, one week ago, hell, even twenty-four hours ago, the idea of submitting my own design had seemed like a good idea. Then I’d learned of the last requirement I needed to include with my design proposal. It was a requirement I hadn’t prepared for, and one I couldn’t quite justify in my mind. Each submission had to be accompanied with a signed letter from the CEO of the company, confirming the design entry and validating the work. Since the CEO of my company was Grayson… that meant, I needed his signature. Or at least one that looked like his.
I’d tried to think of some way around it. At first, I thought of creating my own fake architecture firm so that I could leave Grayson and Cole Designs out of it completely, but I knew that wouldn’t work. If I truly wanted to proceed with my submission, I’d have to break into his office, find a piece of letterhead, and forge his signature. The thought didn’t sit well with me for obvious reasons. I would have never started my own design submission if I had known how far I would have had to drag Grayson into it with me.
As the elevator continued to rise, I thought of all the ways that I was playing with fire. Submitting my own design and stealing company letterhead were both in violation of company policy. Those two things were bad enough, but paled in comparison to the idea of betraying Grayson.
Was it truly that important for me to submit my own designs? I’d completed them and I knew they were really good. Why couldn’t that be enough?
I couldn’t fully explain it. A part of me needed to submit my own design just so I could prove to Alan that I was capable of great work. Another part of me felt like I was rebelling against every “Alan” I’d had to deal with in the architecture world. In college, I’d been forced to watch my male classmates receive internships and design awards not because of their talent, but because they were part of the boys’ club. Misogynistic males ruled the design world and I was sick of sitting on the sidelines.
When the elevator doors opened, I glanced down at the manila envelope in my hands. It held all the keys to a great design, and it was stamped, labeled, and ready to be sealed once I had the letterhead to add to it. I cringed at the idea of having to trash my design, especially when I knew I had a real chance of winning. On the other hand, if I chose to proceed I’d be jeopardizing everything Grayson and I had built in the last few weeks.
I stepped into the office and stood for a moment, surveying the dark room. No one was there yet. My meeting with my table-mates wasn’t due to start for another twenty minutes, but Alan would probably arrive five minutes early, so I had to get a move on if I still wanted to find a piece of letterhead.
I set my things down on my desk and did a quick run-through of the office, just to ensure there were no accountants or interior designers trying to get an early start to the day.
The office was empty and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. If someone had been there, my decision would have been made up for me. Instead, I was alone with my options and still unsure of what I wanted to do.
Either way, time was running out. If I wanted to proceed with the next part of my plan, I needed to do it now.
My hands shook as my conscience warred with me to stop.
If you break into his office, you’ll ruin his trust in you.
If you break into his office, he’ll never forgive you.