Working It(12)

“Oh.”

“Miranda is dead. I think she might have killed herself.”

Nolan’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

Zack held the letter up for Nolan to see. “This is from her.”

“You fired her?”

It would be easy to tell Nolan his reasons, to show that his actions were justifiable. He’d made a decision back then, when he didn’t pursue charges against her, that he would keep her transgressions between them. Now that she was dead, there was no point tarnishing her name. “I did.” He couldn’t look at the letter, didn’t even want to hold it any longer. He opened his drawer and shoved the envelope into the middle of the stack of papers. “We should probably talk about this weekend.”

Nolan had proved capable at the day-to-day tasks his job required, but if the anxiety was going to be a concern, Zack needed to know sooner rather than later. He might like Nolan, but he couldn’t risk running into another problem like Miranda: an otherwise competent assistant with an insurmountable flaw.

For his part, Nolan looked far from comfortable. “Yes, we probably should.”

“I hired you rather impulsively. You were overqualified, and I liked your honesty the first time we spoke. So I need to know if what I saw happen at the club is going to be a problem here.”

Zack watched as an array of emotions raced across Nolan’s face. What he didn’t expect was for Nolan to lean forward, hands braced on the desk, and lock gazes with him. “I was glad for your help, but I’d have managed without it. I was starting the techniques I’ve learned to calm myself down, and in another few minutes I would have pulled myself together enough to find my sister or call a cab. I wouldn’t have been great, but I’d have gotten home. And the fact that I could go out at all is the result of two years of hard work. There was a time I could barely leave my house; I’ve come a long way since then. I’m not one hundred percent, but I’m everything I need to be to do this job. If you want to fire me after what you saw, do me the courtesy of letting me go now before I’ve invested too much time here.”

The unspoken before I’ve invested too much time in you came across loud and clear. Nolan wasn’t Miranda, and as tempting as it was, Zack had no right to pass judgment on him for something that had been outside of his control. “When’s my next appointment?”

Nolan stood and straightened his tie. The fire that had sparked in his eyes faded. “Not for two hours. Would you like a coffee?”

“I’m good.”

As Nolan left him to take his chair at his desk, Zack realized he was not just good; he was great. Despite what had happened Friday night, having Nolan around had been helpful in more ways than he could count. What Nolan did outside of work was none of Zack’s concern. Nolan had proven himself more than any of his other assistants in a shorter period of time. The two of them fit professionally, which was a new experience for Zack.

His gaze drifted to the closed drawer that held Miranda’s letter. He should read it.

Maybe later.

It was hard, but he tried to bring up something positive about her. She hadn’t been a happy woman, even back then. After her first few days on the job, Miranda had rarely smiled, and her moods had been volatile. Looking back, the signs of depression were clear. If he’d only paid a bit more attention to her, he might have found the opportunity to do something, to have helped her. Changed the course of events that led to her dying far too young.

The phone in the outer office rang. “Good morning, Mr. Anderson’s office.”

It might be too late for him to do anything for Miranda, but it wasn’t too late for Nolan. Zack didn’t need to insert himself into Nolan’s life to help him. He could just keep providing what he already did: a stable job and the opportunity for Nolan to move through the organization when he was ready. Nolan was smart, talented, and could clearly handle himself. Hell, if he could stand up to Zack’s grouchiness, then he’d make a name for himself soon enough.

Nolan laughed, and the sound of his rich voice made Zack’s cock stiffen.

There were many things Zack could do for Nolan, but dragging him into a flirtation wasn’t one of them. Pushing down on his hard cock, he turned to his computer, determined to forget about troublesome assistants and get to work.





Nolan was neck-deep into reviewing a department budget when the office door opened. Nancy stood there, grinning like a fool, her hands behind her back.

“Good morning!” She stepped in close and placed a plate with a very large and decadent cupcake on his desk. “Congratulations.”

Without missing a beat, he swiped his finger through the icing. “Buttercream. Damn, that’s good.”

“It better be. I had them special make it. Black forest cheesecake base and cherries inside.”

Nolan forgot all about the report and dove into his treat. “What is this for? My birthday isn’t even close.”

Leaning forward so she could peek into Zack’s office, Nancy relaxed when she saw he wasn’t there. “You are the first assistant to Mr. Anderson who’s made it past the three-week milestone.”

It was absolutely mental that there was even a need to mark such a milestone. Not that he had any intention of giving back his cupcake. “Was there any doubt?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but there was a betting pool in HR as to how long you’d last.”

Nolan’s face heated. “How long did you give me?”

“Oh, I won the bet three days ago. No one thought you’d survive to this point. I have to say, I’m really happy you did. Complaints about Mr. Anderson have dropped by eleven percent. In three weeks. That’s huge!”

“How many complaints have there been about me?”

She grinned. “You’re up to three now, but they’re all serial bitchers, so it’s fine.”

It was hard to believe he’d been at Compass that short of a time. It certainly felt far longer, given how much he’d accomplished. He had fallen into a routine, one that gave him a sense of peace. Up early every morning, he would do his physiotherapy exercises before scarfing his breakfast and getting a coffee to go. He worked late more often than not, spending the last hour of each day with Zack in his office, reviewing reports and the next day’s schedule. Tina had complained that he’d become a very messy ghost inhabiting her apartment; she never saw him anymore.

Sure, he probably didn’t need to spend quite so much time at work. He might have eased up a bit if it weren’t for the fact that, although Tina had accepted her promotion, she’d put off the move. Despite her protests to the contrary, it was obvious she didn’t believe he would be able to handle living on his own. Her company would only let her stay in Toronto for so long before demanding that she relocate, and the last thing Nolan wanted was to be the reason for a big opportunity to fall through on her.

Nolan loved his family, especially his sister, more than anything. The two of them had always been close, and sharing an apartment had only brought them closer. But it was too easy to rely on someone all the time, to know that if things got even a bit challenging for him, he had a safety net in the form of his sister. He’d been grateful for Tina’s help after the accident—he couldn’t have made it without her support—but he wasn’t a child or an invalid. They’d reached a fork in the road and, for the first time since they were kids, they had to each take a different path.

Tina needed to move on.

So did he.

Nancy jerked him from his thoughts when she reached over and took her own swipe of frosting. “Damn, that is good. I’m going to have to go back and get some for myself.”

“I might go too. My sister would love these.” Over Nancy’s shoulder, Nolan saw the elevator doors slide open. Zack emerged, chin lowered as he strode down the hall toward the office like a man possessed. “Oh no.”

Nancy straightened. “He’s coming, isn’t he?”

“And looking pissed.”

“Well it was nice knowing—”

Zack pushed the door open. “Nolan! My office.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nancy grimaced. “Well, I’ll let you get to it.” Without looking once at Zack, she scampered away.

Coward. “Do I need anything specific?”

Zack threw . . . something . . . his tie? And his blazer? “Asshole!”

Shit.

The muscles in Nolan’s chest started to tighten, making it difficult to take long, deep breaths. Still, he had a job to do. Ignoring the rising anxiety, he grabbed his tablet and entered the lion’s den.

Zack’s hair was sticking up in a very unnatural way. Nolan knew it would be the wrong move to run his hand through it, to smooth it down so Zack looked more like his normal, put-together self. Instead, he walked over to where Zack’s tie and blazer lay in a heap on the floor. The material was still warm from Zack’s body, and Nolan held it to his chest. “What can I help with?”

“I need to write an email. I’m fucking pissed.”

“I got that.”

Zack glared. “Don’t push.”

“Sorry.” Nolan coughed as he placed Zack’s clothing on the guest chair. “What do you need me to do?”