Page 33 of Yours, Finally

Jake put an ankle over a knee, and closed the binder on top of it. He stole a glance in the general direction of my thighs, but took it away the next instant.

He cleared his throat. "Does it bother you that the role went to Gabe? Did you want it, too?"

"Not really." I shrugged. "I wouldn't be opposed to it, but Gabe wanted it, so I was happy to let it go to him. I've always felt this is a family deal, the Sotomayor Group. Maybe with the next generation it'll go to my kids."

He stared at me for a long time; I held his gaze until my stomach filled with butterflies.

The question that came out of his lips did so softly.

"You want kids?" he asked.

In my moments of full limerence for Jake, I had imagined two children, both of them with different shades of glossy brown hair, and strong hints of red in the sun. Maybe one of them would have blue eyes like Jake.

I gulped and woke up my computer for a quick glance at my inbox. Nothing there.

"Yeah, I do." I bit my bottom lip. "And if one of them wants the CEO role, I'm sure they could get it. Gabe didn't get the role out of a hereditary thing."

His nod was slow. I would have asked him what occupied his mind, if there weren't so much tension between us.

"All right." He shook his foot. "Teach me more."

I sighed. It was a good idea to go back to work. "The amount of people you'll work with will reduce. Now you will work closely with the COO, of course, just like Gabe did with you, but you will also work closely with the other VPs and the CEO. We each have our titles and accountabilities, but we're heavily involved in each other's business at this level."

His leg stopped shaking. He crossed his arms and a small smile appeared on his lips. Sitting there in front of me, with his blue shirt and slacks, overwhelming the chair with his imposing size— it put dangerous ideas in my head.

His ancestry was Scottish. Some of those ideas had to do with him wearing a kilt and one of those loose shirts from period dramas, a knife of some sort in his sock.

I slashed the thought with a big Highlander sword, and continued as if this were any other person I worked with. Several legal considerations for him as a VP later, we reached a section that brought us close to dangerous topics.

"One of the biggest legal risks for you at this level is the same as before," I said. "We take power dynamics very seriously across the board, and inappropriate behavior isn't tolerated at any level. As you know, we have very strong policies aimed to reduce harassment and other forms of abuse among employees. This includes the rule prohibiting folk in a position of power to seek new romantic entanglement with people subordinate totheir role, or in any other vulnerable position in regard to their role."

I waited for him to nod before adding the next part. His gaze was intense on me, and my skin tingled with the power of it.

"Now that you'll be a VP, and because of our matrix structure, that means you cannot be involved with anyone that works for the conglomerate." I gulped. "Except, perhaps, another person at your level."

"Like another VP." His voice rumbled in the air between us.

I nodded. "Unless it's unwelcomed. One question testing the waters is okay… two or more and we risk crossing boundaries into harassment territory."

He mirrored me and nodded too. "I understand."

"Most VPs find that they're too busy, at the start, and it takes some time to find your footing. There's still a learning curve at this level, of course."

"You've dated." His breathing seemed to quicken. "And Gabe did too, eventually. I'll be fine."

"You will be. Being a VP will only make you more of an eligible bachelor. It's one of those fun, patriarchal things. Like with gray hair— to society, it adds points to a masc person. The opposite to a femme person."

He tsked. "Then I'm all out of luck. I'm a cis man, but I don't think I'll get grays. I'll miss out on that benefit to my gender."

"Oh?" I studied his hair closely; a chance I didn't often get. "Is it the color?"

"Yep. My kind of hair just… fades."

I spoke without reviewing my words ahead of time. "It's gorgeous hair. Isn't it what they call strawberry blonde? Or would it be ginger?"

He cocked his head and stared at my hair in turn, like he was mentally comparing the colors. "Yeah. Lightest shade ofredhead, I think. What color is yours? I always thought it looked the color of a luxurious dark wood. Or silk. I bet it's soft."

His voice had continued to be low, like he'd thought out loud, too. But we clocked the words at the same time, and our eyes whipped to each other.