“You are courting him!” she says, obliging me with her foot in my lap.
I sit up and take it in my hands, massaging my thumb into the ball. Her feet are dainty, but her skin is calloused and tough, and because it’s something new and interesting about her, I find it hot as hell. “Were you a dancer?” I ask.
“I’m a runner. My feet are gross. Now tell me about Nathan Murphy.”
“I think they’re sexy.” I bend down and draw her big toe in my mouth to prove it.
She tries to pull it away, but I don’t let her.
“Nathan. Murphy.” She attempts to make it sound like she’s frustrated that I haven’t told her, but the way her breathing has quickened and the way her eyes have gone dark and liquid, I can tell she’s also just frustrated from this foot rub.
I, however, pretend like sucking on her bits is no big deal.
Spoiler: It is. I’m fucking lead.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss Nathan Murphy,” I concede. “But I am at liberty to tell you that I will speak highly of you to Hudson. Is that what you want?” Carefully, I raise my eyes to hers, a little unsure what I’ll find when they meet.
Confusion. Excitement. Fear. That’s what I see. The same things I heard in her voice earlier, and it’s like her gaze is a mirror of all the ways she makes me feel.
Oh, but we’re talking about work. Yes. Right.
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she says, sighing, and I pretend that it’s mostly from what my thumb is doing to the bottom of her foot.
“Yes, you do. Tell me.”
She chews on the inside of her lip while she thinks. “I want to follow in my father’s footsteps. I want him to bring me on as a major player in his company. I want Accelecom to merge with Werner Media, and I want to have a position where I can implement progressive concepts and take the industry in a new direction.”
I nod, encouragingly, despite what I’m about to say. “I hate to break it to you,” I set her foot down and reach for the other, “but I don’t think I’m the one standing in your way of your ambitious goals.”
“I know. It’s my father. And Hagan.” She sighs again, and this time it’s complete discouragement. “He’s actually a really smart guy, even when he acts like a prat. It’s just frustrating that my father only sees his achievements and only hears his ideas.”
“Yeah, that is frustrating.” The thing is, I get it. “Not that I know what you go through exactly, but I do know a thing or two about being in a sibling’s shadow.”
She tilts her head and stares at me. “I imagine you do. At least you don’t have your gender working against you.”
“You’re right. I can’t know what that’s like, but I have to say, I kind of even live in the shadow of my sister. She was pushed and supported and championed through her entire life.”
“And now she works in fashion? A ‘female appropriate field’? Not the same.”
“Well, yes, but she started off in business. Mom and Dad groomed her to take a seat at Pierce Industries, just like Hudson. And gender is still at play because, when she decided to do something else, they didn’t bat an eye. Do you know what they’d do if I didn’t want to work in the family business? I doubt they’d be so understanding.”
She frowns. “Do you not want to work in the family business?”
“No. I do. I like the job.” I like it more than I let on, actually. I love the adrenaline and the maneuvering and the ideas. It’s as thrilling as driving my car fast when I’m up in the country. Don’t even ask how many tickets I’ve gotten—I can barely count. Thank god I’m in with the traffic judge, or I might not have a license.
But it’s also frustrating. The job, not the tickets, though those are a pain in the ass too. “I’m trying to say that I’ve also encountered expectations revolving around gender. And I’ve been discounted and overlooked. My family doesn't take me seriously. I’m just the baby. The cute one. The spoiled one. The one who gets everything handed to him. Sometimes I think everyone just expects me to be Hudson’s lackey forever. My father acts like I’m a joke. My mother probably hopes I’ll marry well—probably assumes I have to, unlike my brother who was elite enough to fall for who he wanted. Marry well, breed, and learn how to play a good golf game. Those are my prospects.”
She pulls her foot away to kick my chest. “Stop it. Your family sees you as more than that.”
I shake my head. “Why would they? I don’t head Pierce Industries’ top accounts. Anything innovative I’ve brought to the table has usually been dismissed. The only press write-ups I’ve ever received have remarked on my social life rather than my business efforts. I don’t know why they’d expect me to amount to much more than that.” This is all stuff I’ve felt for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never told anyone. It’s odd sharing it now with Genevieve—she’s someone I should be trying to impress. She doesn't need to think that I’m a loser.
Strangely though, when I tell her, she doesn’t make me feel like I’m a loser. “That’s absurd,” she says. “I’ve spent very little time with you, and I already know you’re more than that. You’re quick and witty, good under pressure, can improvise in sticky situations. Those are skills that can’t be taught. You either have them or you don’t.”
Our eyes meet and though I’ve looked at her like this before, this time it’s different. This time her gaze pulls at something in my chest. Makes me feel like I’m exploding and crumbling in on myself all at once.