Mistaken Alliances

Which Brother

By the following Tuesday, the entire office knew.

I wasn't sure how it started. Maybe it was the way Killian had greeted me in the hallway that morning, loud and warm in front of everyone, like we were old friends. Maybe it was the way Kade had held the elevator door open for me with a look that a coworker described to me later as "loaded." Whatever it was, the whispers had started and they were not quiet.

I ducked into the women's bathroom after overhearing two people from accounts talking about me by the coffee station. I stood at the sink, running cold water over my wrists, and stared at my own reflection.

My phone buzzed. I looked down.

Clover: We need to talk. Lunch?

I texted back a yes and stayed in the bathroom for another full minute.

When I finally came out, I nearly walked straight into Kade. He was standing just outside the door, reading something on his phone, and he looked up the second I stepped out. I stumbled back slightly and he put a hand on my arm to steady me. Warm. Firm. Gone just as fast.

"Sorry," he said.

"What are you doing outside the women's bathroom?" I asked.

Something close to amusement crossed his face.

"I was on my way to the print room. It's around the corner." He tilted his head slightly. "What are you doing hiding in the bathroom?"

"I wasn't hiding."

"You were in there for seven minutes."

I stared at him. "You were counting?"

"I happened to notice," he said, unbothered.

I opened my mouth and closed it again. This man was going to drive me insane.

"I have work to do," I said, stepping around him.

"Mia."

I stopped.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

I turned slowly. He was watching me with that calm, unflinching focus of his. No smirk. No game. Just a straightforward ask.

"Dinner," I repeated.

"Yes. A restaurant. Food. Conversation." He said it simply. "I want to talk to you properly. Without Killian."

I should have said no. Every reasonable part of my brain was pointing to no like a flashing billboard. But the part of me that had spent five years building this man up in my mind was louder.

"Fine," I said. "But I pick the place."

He nodded once. "Send me the address."

I turned and walked away before he could see any of what was happening on my face.

Lunch with Clover was at the deli around the corner. She was already there when I arrived, stirring her soup with a faraway look that snapped into focus the second she saw me coming.

"Okay," she said the moment I sat down. "Both Carter brothers. Both of them, Mia. What is happening?"

"Nothing is happening."

"People are talking. Everyone is talking. Someone from accounts sent me a voice note this morning describing the way Kade Carter looked at you in the elevator."

I picked up my fork. "People need to mind their own business."

"Mia." Clover put her spoon down and leaned forward. Her eyes were bright but there was something else in them, something behind the curiosity that I couldn't quite place. "You always talked about finding the man who saved you. And now two men who look exactly like each other are basically tripping over themselves to get to you. Is one of them him?"

I looked at her. Clover had been my best friend since law school. She knew about the mugging, about the five years of quiet searching. She had sat with me through all of it.

I almost told her everything right then.

Instead, I just said, "I don't know yet."

She studied me for a long moment.

"Be careful," she said finally, her voice softer than usual. "Men like that don't just throw money around for fun. If they bought your company to get to you, one of them wants something."

"I know," I said.

She picked her spoon back up, the moment passing.

"So which one are you more attracted to?" she asked, and just like that the lightness was back.

I threw a bread roll at her and she caught it, laughing.

Dinner with Kade was at a small Italian place I loved in the West Village, the kind with low lighting and tables close together and waiters who didn't hover. He was already there when I arrived, which surprised me. I half expected him to be five minutes late and walk in like he owned the place.

He stood when he saw me coming and I told myself it was old-fashioned habit, not charm.

We ordered. We talked. At first it was surface things, the firm, the restructuring plans, what I thought of the team. Kade was easy to talk to in a way that was different from Killian. Where Killian was all heat and momentum, Kade listened in a way that made you feel like what you were saying actually mattered.

Then, over the second glass of wine, he said it.

"Tell me about yourself. Before the firm."

I tilted my head. "How far back?"

"As far as you want to go."

I thought about it. Then I said, "I grew up in Queens. Both parents worked two jobs each. Law school on a scholarship. I've been at Ferguson since I was twenty-three."

He nodded. "And before law school?"

I turned my glass in my hand. "Nothing interesting."

"I doubt that," he said quietly.

Our eyes held for a moment. Something passed between us that I didn't have a name for yet. Then I sat back and asked, "What about you? The Carter empire, the abroad years. What's the story there?"

He smiled at that. Just barely, but it was real.

And we talked until the restaurant started stacking chairs around us, neither of us noticing until a waiter cleared his throat politely.

Walking out into the cool night, I felt the ground under me shift in a way I hadn't prepared for.

I was falling. And the terrifying part was that I wasn't sure which brother was catching me.