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mesa
Chapter 3
A few years ago, Nathan came home looking like he’d seen a ghost. I knew something was wrong the moment he walked through our apartment door.
He sat on our Italian leather sofa for what felt like hours before he finally spoke. He’d run into the family of the drunk driver who killed his parents.
The accident happened when Nathan was at Harvard. His parents were stopped at a red light on the Mass Pike when a drunk driver plowed into them at full speed. All three died
instantly.
Claire Morrison was that driver’s daughter.
Nathan had discovered this three months after his HR team hired her as his executive
assistant.
I’d never seen him so shaken – his hands trembling, eyes bloodshot. “Emma, I can’t… every time I see her, all I can think about is that night. Sometimes I just want to…” His voice cracked. This was Nathan Pierce – the man who could make or break companies without blinking – completely undone.
I pulled him close, running my fingers through his hair. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to handle this alone. You can have HR transfer her, give her a great recommendation.”
That was the first time I’d ever seen the ruthless CEO of Pierce & Associates break down like a lost child, holding onto me like I was his anchor to reality.
When I carefully broached the subject a few weeks later, he seemed back to his usual
composed self.
“I had her moved to Operations on a different floor.”
“Why keep her at all? Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
His expression was surprisingly peaceful. “You were right – I can’t let the past control me
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forever. Maybe this is my chance to grow beyond it. I’m fine, really.”
After that, during my occasional office visits, Claire vanished from sight. Nathan never
mentioned her again. I thought he’d finally found his peace with it.
Until today, when she walked into his corner office.
“I thought Melissa was your assistant now?”
Claire gave that nervous smile she’d perfected. “She’s on maternity leave. A few of us from Operations are rotating coverage.”
“That must be quite the adjustment,” I said diplomatically.
Claire Morrison wasn’t exactly Manhattan executive material. Small–boned, almost delicate, with plain features and off–the–rack clothes. She had this permanent deer–in–headlights look – like someone who spent their life trying not to be noticed.
She dipped her head slightly. “Mrs. Pierce, I should get back to the front desk.”
As she turned, I caught sight of something on her neck – several distinctive red marks.
Unmistakably hickeys.
Nathan returned from his board meeting looking every inch the power player in his bespoke Tom Ford suit.
He leaned against the doorframe of his office, just watching me with that smile that still made my heart skip. “Finally decided to grace Pierce & Associates with your presence?”
I walked over and slipped into his arms. “Maybe I should visit more often. Your entire staff lights up when I’m here.”
He tweaked my nose playfully. “They better not light up too much.”
I chose my next words carefully. “Claire brought me coffee earlier.”
He stilled for a moment before managing a quiet “Mm.”
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She’s filling in as your assistant. Nathan, you don’t have to explain I know you’ve worked through this.”
I looked up at him. “Mom always said you had incredible resilience. Look at you now – running this empire, handling everything so perfectly. She knew exactly what you’d
become.”
His dark eyes held mine for a long moment before he bent to brush his lips against my
forehead.
“Emma,” he murmured against my skin, “that’s all because of you.”
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