The Design (22 page)

They didn’t notice me at first, not until I was almost at my seat.

“Hey Cammie. I was wondering if you’d left your stuff here last night,” Peter said, pointing to my purse on my desk.

“Nah. I got here a few minutes ago and then ran down for some coffee.”

Peter glanced down to my hands, which were clearly
not
holding a cup of coffee.

“Drank it down there,” I explained, though I should have just shut my mouth.

Peter nodded slowly and Alan turned to inspect me.

“Morning,” I offered. He gave me a curt nod and took a seat.

I was the last one to sit down and as soon as my butt hit the chair, Alan began to drone on and on about the company’s design submission.

“We’re a little behind on our proposal and it needs to be in the mail by noon today,” Alan said, reaching into a desk drawer to pull out our design packet.

I hid a smug smile. I’d done all of the design work on my own and I’d still managed to get it done, yet as a group, we were behind.

“I want you each to set aside your morning work and focus on this. We need to have everything together by 11:30 am at the latest. They pick up the mail downstairs at noon and we don’t want to chance it.”

We all agreed, and then Alan doled out tasks to each of us. Mark and Peter were both given actual design work but he put me on letterhead duty.

“They want a summary of our submission. Just explain our design and give a general idea for the project,” Alan said, sweeping his hand to dismiss me to my work.

I opened my laptop and opened a blank word document. I was more than prepared to write our summary considering I’d just finished writing one for myself.

“And only go off of the things we discussed during our meetings. None of that other crap you tried to suggest,” Alan added with a clipped tone.

I clenched my fists to keep from saying anything too disrespectful.

Any small flame of regret that was burning inside of me was effectively squashed by his attitude.

“Sure thing,
Alan
.”

He glared at me from the corner of his eyes, but I was too busy typing bullshit to notice.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I obsessed about the message I’d heard on Grayson’s answering machine for the next twenty-four hours. I tried to convince myself I’d heard the wrong apartment name, the wrong apartment number, the wrong words altogether. I tried to convince myself it’d been part of an elaborate dream, but in the end, I knew what I’d heard, and I knew that Grayson and I had a relationship that was muddied with deceit and lies.

I tried to pin Grayson down on Tuesday so that we could talk, but his schedule was jam-packed with design meetings. At 10:30 am, he had a meeting with Mitch. That meeting overflowed into his 12:30 pm meeting with Serenity. I watched her pace back and forth in front of his office, expelling an exasperated huff every few minutes so that we’d all know just how much of her time he was wasting. Finally, at 1:00 pm, Grayson’s office door opened and I twisted my head to watch him say goodbye to Mitch and then turn to greet Serenity. He looked devastatingly handsome. His suit jacket was gone, probably hanging on the back of his chair. Everything else was quintessentially Grayson: shined shoes, cuffed shirt sleeves, gelled hair, straight tie, and killer smile. The killer smile was directed at me when he caught me staring up at him. My gut reaction was to smile back, and I did, before realizing how twisted our relationship had become in the last few days.

There was very little to smile about.

Did he have any idea that I’d broken into his office? Had I left anything out of place?

“Sorry for the wait,” Grayson said to Serenity. “I have about thirty minutes before I’ve got to run to a job site.”

“That’s fine.” She smiled. “You’ll approve these designs as you always do. I know exactly what you like,” she gushed. I rolled my eyes.

Grayson offered her a curt nod and then ushered her into his office, leaving the door slightly ajar. It was a thoughtful gesture, but I had too much on my mind to care that he was alone with Serenity.

“Cammie, I need you to stay late tonight. We’re behind on a few projects because of that design proposal,” Alan said, jarring my attention back to our table group.

“I can stay late too if you need it,” Peter offered, meeting my eye.

I gave him a small smile, inwardly cursing Alan to the pits of hell.

“Fine,” Alan agreed before picking up his phone and dialing out.

I stayed busy the rest of the day, nearly jumping out of my skin every time Grayson’s office door opened. Finally, around 3:00 pm, he bid farewell to Beatrice and left the office for a job site. My phone vibrated with a text message a few minutes later.

Grayson
: Had to run down to Malibu for a meeting. I might stay overnight depending on how late it runs.

Cammie
: Ok. Good luck.

Grayson
: Wish you were coming with me.

I didn’t text back. I wanted to tell him about the voicemail, but then I’d have to admit that I’d broken into his office, and then I’d also have to tell him about my submission for the competition. My chest tightened just thinking about the mountain of lies building between us. I hadn’t thought ahead enough to realize how far this one decision would throw my life off course.

Instead of deciding on a plan of action, I threw myself into work. Peter stayed late with me and we ordered in food from the deli down the street. The office was quiet and I ignored my buzzing phone. I’d sleep on it and wake up with a clear plan. I always did.

…

My plan didn’t work.

The next morning, it still felt like I was in the eye of a tornado. By breaking into Grayson’s office and by submitting my own design work, I’d set events into motion that I was helpless to stop. I hadn’t considered it before, but the design committee would definitely be sending some kind of confirmation once they received our submissions; who they would contact, I hadn’t a clue. I checked my email obsessively, hoping they would use the personal email address I’d provided for them, but on Wednesday morning, I still hadn’t received a single thing.

I sat at my desk, refreshing my email over and over again, praying that I’d eventually find an email from the design committee. Nothing. In the proposal packet, they said they’d contact us no later than Wednesday to confirm receipt of our packets.

I was royally screwed.

I stayed at my desk as people started to trickle into the office, dread gnawing at my stomach. I had five text messages and three phone calls waiting on my cell phone. They were all from Grayson, and I refused to check a single one until I knew what I wanted to do about us.

At 8:00 am, Grayson strolled into the office with a piercing gaze aimed right for me. I tried to ignore his approach by focusing on my work, but he completely read through my act.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling my chair back so that I was forced to stand or fall to the ground.

“Stop,” I hissed, aware of everyone’s eyes on us.

“No. Let’s go. You’re talking to me. I’ve had enough of the silent treatment.”

His voice warned me that he was not to be tested, but I wanted to test him anyway.
How dare he boss me around after what I’d heard on his answering machine?
I had every right to demand answers right then and there, to call him out for being an overbearing stalker, but we were interrupted a moment too soon.

“Just the two people I need to talk to,” Alan spat from behind me with more venom than I’d ever heard before.

Grayson’s blue eyes cut from me up to Alan, warning him away. “I’m busy right now, Alan.”

Alan shook his head. “Not too busy for this,” he said, slapping a piece of paper onto my desk. The font was too small for me to make out, but I knew it was an email. Just before Grayson snatched it up, I caught the committee’s email address at the top of the page.

“Grayson let me explain—” I began, before getting cut off.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked as he arrived at his desk, unaware of the hornet’s nest he’d just walked into. Behind him, wearing a small smirk, Hannah stood watching the scene play out. Clearly, she wanted to be privy to the show as well.

I was about to tell her off when she held up a green post-it note. The note that had been missing from my desk a few days earlier. My eyes widened and she smirked, folding the note up and slipping into her pocket.

She’d sneaked into my room and stolen Grayson’s address?
That also meant she knew all about my design proposal.
Perfect
. My worst enemy, aka roommate, had my life in the palm of her hands.

“What is going on, Alan? What does this mean?” Grayson snapped, drawing my attention back to the piece of paper in his hand.

Alan punched my desk with his fist, making me jump. “I'll tell you what it means. Graduate Barbie here wanted to siphon some fame, so she submitted her own fucking design in the name of Cole Designs.”

I stared between the two of them, watching my world crumble. I knew what was in that email; I knew I was about to have to own up to my actions, but I had no words.

Grayson rubbed his hand across his chin, staring me down with confusion, then fury when I failed to contradict Alan's accusation. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watched other coworkers stepping closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action.

“Is this true, Cammie?” Grayson asked, shaking the piece of paper in the air.

I mashed my lips together and stayed silent.

Alan pointed to the email. “That is an email from the competition’s design committee stating that our firm has forfeited our spot in the Urban Park Design Proposal. Each firm is allowed to submit one submission, and yet somehow they received
TWO
from Cole Designs. What the hell were you thinking? Do you understand what you just lost for the company? That bid was worth millions of dollars, not to mention the fact that our firm’s name would have been printed in every architectural magazine in the country when the design proposals were announced.”

Grayson held up his hand to silence Alan’s rant.

“Did you submit your own design, Cammie?” he asked, wearing a sad, yet hopeful look in his eyes. He wanted me to say no so badly, but I couldn’t.

“Yes,” I admitted, feeling a weight leave my shoulders as a heavy wave simultaneously crashed down over me. “I did.”

Grayson crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them again, there was only disappointment staring back at me.

“Why?”

I pointed to Alan. “Because he wouldn’t listen to my ideas and I knew I had something better. His designs were shit, and everyone was too scared to speak up. So I submitted a design on my own.”

Grayson threw the crumpled email across the room.

“Stupid girl,” Alan spat.

Grayson shot him a warning glance. “Alan, that’s enough. Let’s go into my office and get the design committee on the phone.”

They turned and walked away from me without a second glance. Grayson didn’t so much as look back at me and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow them or not, so I stood frozen, watching them disappear behind Grayson’s door.

“Guess having a little affair with your boss isn’t enough to get you out of this, is it, Cammie?” Hannah asked, loudly enough that in the quiet office at least a dozen coworkers overheard her.

“Shut up, Hannah,” I said, grabbing my purse and pushing past her to head toward the stairwell.

“Guess you would have been better off sleeping with Alan instead,” she called out after me. "Or maybe the whole design committee!"

I didn’t bother turning around but I heard Peter’s voice behind me.

“Don’t you have work to do, Hannah? Why are you even over here?” he asked.

I’m sure she replied with something terribly catty, but I was too busy pushing through the side door into the stairwell to hear. The quiet wrapped around me and I stood with my back against the concrete wall as the last ten minutes began to sink in. Not only had I gone behind Grayson’s back, I had also disqualified the entire company from the competition. Not to mention, Hannah had just all but convinced everyone that Grayson and I were having a secret affair.

I’d started my day as just another nameless rookie architect. Now, I was Cammie, the girl who sleeps around to get ahead and is stupid enough to jeopardize the company’s reputation on a caprice. I was standing there, berating myself, when the door to the stairwell opened and I braced myself for Grayson. Instead, a pair of stiletto heels hit the concrete and I looked up to see Serenity stepping out of the office to join me on the stairwell landing.

“I thought I saw you come out here,” she said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her small designer clutch. “Wanna smoke?”

I shook my head and then watched her shrug and light a cigarette for herself.

“I usually come out here to take a break, but lately you and Grayson have been stealing my spot,” she said, staring at me out of the corner of her eye.

I swallowed. She’d known about Grayson and me all along, but never said anything.

Why?
             

“Are you allowed to smoke in the building?” I asked, to change the subject and to confirm my suspicions.

She pointed up to the wall, where the smoke detector should have been. Instead, there was a small circle of concrete that was lighter than the rest of the wall.
She’d removed the smoke detector off the wall.

“Trust me, this building is in much less danger when I've had a few cigarettes,” she said, taking a long drag.

I didn't really see her logic, but I wasn’t exactly in a place to make anymore enemies.

“That was a foolish thing you did, huh?” she said, trying to meet my eye.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms tighter. The last thing I needed was a lecture from Miss Interior Design 2015.

“Do you realize how many asshole men there are in this business?” she asked.

I laughed, caught off guard by her candidness.

“Before I became the head of interiors, I worked for a crotchety old man named Mr. Winters. I knew that I had a better eye for design than he did, but I also knew that one day he’d step down and I’d get the final say in the department. I worked for him for four long years and I dreamed of doing what you did too many times to count, but I knew that it would get me nowhere.”

I huffed, annoyed. “Where were you a few days ago?”

She laughed and took another drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke away from me, down the stairwell.

“Was your design better than Alan’s?” she asked.

The edge of my mouth hitched up. “A thousand times better. He's so out of touch with the original vision for the project.”

She nodded and crossed an arm over her chest to prop up her elbow.

“Then when they fire you, you’ll have no problem finding another job,” she said, staring me straight in the eye. “But I wouldn’t put Alan down as a reference.”