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[ 6 ] : "ANTI-HERO"

The rest of my day went by in a blur. Any productivity was thrown out the window the moment the calendar update arrived in my email. A dinner date with the director was not the way I wanted to conclude my day. Honestly, all I wanted was to go home, ditch this bra, throw on my favorite sweat then lose myself in a pint of cookie dough ice cream and reruns of a trashy reality show. Just scratch this entire day and experience off my record.

But that was impossible. Instead, I was still doing damage control on my misguided confession. A heavy sigh rattled in my chest as I stepped out of the lobby into the evening chill. There weren't many people wandering around at this hour, though the main road was heavy with traffic. The joys of working below downtown. People were either trying to get home or get their evening started.

A horn honked and I jolted at the sound, eyes fixing on a black sudan. The drivers side window, rolling down to reveal Mr. Shelby. My cheeks flushed at the exasperated look he tossed in my direction, giving a jerk of his head toward the back end. A soft, muttered curse fell from my lips as I hurried to the car.

I opened the door to the backseat and found Julian seated on the opposite side, face focused on a pile of papers nestled in hand. There was a neat stack of files beside him, a small barrier between our seats. I hesitated at the sight of him, glancing back over my shoulder, hoping that no one was around to see me getting into a car with our director.

"Please get in, Miss Andrews. We have a reservation to meet."

"Right." I ducked down and was happy to find that I didn't have to squeeze or contort myself to fit into the car. It was a first for me. The door slammed shut behind me, jolting me back into the reality that I was trapped in the backseat with the director of my dream job headed to have dinner.

The air was stifling or maybe it was the silence that formed around us. We didn't know each other. Our first conversation was only a few hours ago. The power dynamic between us was completely one-sided. This was more unsettling than our first meeting. At that time, my fear was getting fired. Now, it was more than a simple getting fired. If Julian found out that the confession was false, or more correctly, meant for someone else entirely—wouldn't he be embarrassed?

His intention in the beginning was clearly to reject me, or at least he implied as much this afternoon, but then he'd gone and changed his mind. Irritation made the back of my throat itch. What was the reason for the change? It would've been better if he had stuck to his guns. But no. Now, we were both trapped in this frustrating situation; him unwittingly.

I glanced in his direction, studying his profile for a moment.

His presence wasn't as overwhelming as this afternoon. Instead, it was calm and focused.

"Do you have something you'd like to say, Miss Andrews?" His question startled me and I turned my face away from him, ears burning. I'd obviously been observing him a bit too long.

There were a lot of things I would like to say, but I swallowed them and said, "I'd rather you call me Kate."

That was a lie, but I didn't want to spend the next hour of my life talking in such a formal manner. If everything went well, it wouldn't matter anyways.

"Then I will," he replied, without any hesitation. In fact, he sounded almost pleased by the thought. There was a burst of flutters in my stomach and I frowned at my reflection in the window. "Only when we're outside of the office, of course."

"Of course..." I muttered.

We spent the rest of the short drive in silence, until we pulled up to a tall, familiar building: The Du Pont. My eyes widened as I tilted my head to get a better view of it up close. I'd gone past hundreds, probably thousands of times and always dreamed that someday I'd get to go inside. The hotel itself was a landmark in the city and its skyline. Its historical value alone made it an attraction.