2. Conrad

CHAPTER 2

CONRAD

TWELVE YEARS LATER

T he new Constel campus was everything I'd dreamed of. Everything I'd dreamed of, and I'd made it real — a slim, mirrored tower soaring over New York. Its great, glassed-in atrium housed a green indoor garden, opening out the east to my real pride and joy, an actual lawn in the heart of Manhattan, where workers could sit and eat lunch in the sun. Walls shielded this space from the noise of the city, from its smells and its bustle, the honking of cars. You could be in the city and feel like you weren't. Like you'd stepped into a sun-dappled country escape.

"It's stunning," breathed Claire, stepping out of our limo. The sunset had turned the tower all shades of burning, rose-gold and orange and deep, angry red.

I wanted to grin, but I composed my face. She hadn't seen the half of it. Hadn't seen the best part. Cameras flashed as I took her arm, and I nodded to the reporters, inviting their questions.

"Mr. Farley!" A microphone jutted in my face. "Mr. Farley, when most other tech companies are tightening their belts, how do you justify this lavish new campus?"

I drew the mic closer, pleased with the question. "Well," I said, "most of those companies are being short-sighted. They're focused on growth they can show their investors. On short-term profits that can't be sustained. They're making cuts, making layoffs, stripping back benefits — in short, any incentive anyone might have to work there. Here at Constel, I want the best minds. I want the most brilliant innovators working for me. So I've built them this campus, and I'll treat them as I see them: my most valuable asset. The bones of my business."

More microphones bristled, more cameras. More questions. I answered the smartest ones and ignored the rest, and then I marched us inside to a swell of applause. Claire's delighted gasp was lost in the roar, but I still felt her chest hitch, pressed to my arm. I felt the flutter of her laughter and knew she was smiling. Knew her face had lit up all the way to her eyes.

A champagne cork popped and trays appeared at our elbows. Petals fell like confetti, and we sipped fruity Mo?t. Claire's lips moved, mouthing something I didn't hear. I nodded yes anyway, caught in the moment. The atrium sparkled with bright fairy lights, every tree, every column, every hanging planter. Outside, the lawn was lit up as well, a net of white lights draped overhead.

"That's actual grass out there! Are those daffodils?" Claire's green eyes were huge, taking in my success. "Those are daffodils. I love this for you."

My heart swelled in my chest, brimming with pride. I'd built this, me , but Claire made it real. I could always count on her to be honest with me, and she was honestly beaming. Blown away. I didn't have a lot of people I could trust to be honest — most who approached me wanted something from me — but all Claire ever wanted was what we'd always had. I'd been there for her and she'd been there for me, building our empires since we'd met in college. We'd been plus-ones through symposiums and charity galas, weddings and openings, tech fairs and conventions. We'd celebrated each other when our fortunes were strong, buoyed each other's spirits when we were struggling. And now it was my night, and Claire was here to share it.

She caught a tipsy guest deftly as he beelined for me, freeing me up to shake hands with my architect. To introduce her around, maybe get her more clients. She'd brought my dream to life. This was her moment too.

I'd invited a lot of local business owners, and I made the rounds with them, heading out to the lawn. Claire was out there already, charming my CFO.

"I remember you," he was saying. "From that art opening, right? How long have you and Conrad been an item?"

Claire laughed like she always did when people jumped to that conclusion. "Oh, no, we're just friends. We have been since college."

"A Columbia girl! Cornell, for me."

I cut in to hand Claire a fresh flute of champagne. "Claire's CEO of Timeless."

"Timeless, I know you! My wife loves your app."

Claire smiled at that and sipped her Mo?t. "Tonight's Con's night," she said. "But tell your wife to stay tuned. We've got some great new brands coming she'll want to try out."

"I've told him about you," I said, when we were alone. "He must not have realized you were that Claire."

"It's because you're both so damn gorgeous," came a voice from behind us. I spun around, and Joe Wells had snuck up on us, my COO and the closest I had to a partner. "Hey, Claire," he said. "How are you doing?"

"Fantastic." She smiled. "Your campus is stunning."

Joe grinned at me. "Have you shown her the roof yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm going to."

"What's on the roof?"

Joe waggled his brows. "You need to see for yourself. Why don't you two nip up there while I keep your guests entertained?"

I chuckled, picturing Joe as the life of the party — Joe, who'd grown up in the wilds of Wyoming, who still talked like a cowboy when he had a few drinks in him. Still, I'd made my rounds, and the timing was perfect.

"All right," I said. "Come on and I'll show you."

We headed up to the roof in the glass elevator, watching Manhattan take shape below us, a glittering network of crisscrossing roads. It always reminded me of a spiderweb after a storm, a million droplets of water catching the sun. This was my view now, not just a view — my unique viewpoint from the top of the world.

"What'll your workers do if they're scared of heights?"

I burst out laughing, startled from my thoughts. Trust Claire to pop my grandiose musings. "There's a regular elevator on the west side. And stairs, of course, if they want the workout."

Claire stepped up to the glass and tipped her head back. "Remember that book, I've forgotten the name, the one about the elevator that goes up to space? This almost feels like that, flying up to the stars."

" The Fountains of Paradise ," I said, distracted. The starlight had silvered Claire's copper hair, lit up her face like the plains of the moon. If not for her freckles, she'd have looked unearthly, some kind of fey creature flown in for a visit. I almost wanted to touch her to make sure she was real.

"I almost forgot you're a nerd," I said instead. We both laughed at that, and the elevator slowed to a stop. The steel doors slid open as smooth as silk. Claire clapped her hands as pink petals flew in.

"Almond blossoms, so gorgeous! Is this a roof garden?"

"Yeah, a retreat for when life gets too loud." I guided her out to the quiet roof garden, its pink cloud of almond trees surrounding a marble reflecting pool. "Joe wanted to use this space for a helipad, but how often, really, do you travel by chopper?"

Claire shuddered against me. "Never, if I can avoid it. Those things don't look like they ought to fly."

"I'm more a jet guy," I said.

"Me too, all the way." She found a long bench overlooking the city and sat with a sigh, and kicked off her shoes. I sat down beside her.

"Pinchy toes?"

"You know it."

"How've you been, these last few months? Feels like I've barely heard from you with your whole grand relaunch."

"You're one to talk, Mr. King of the Castle." She raised the glass she'd brought up with her. "To you."

"No, to us." I clinked my glass on hers before she could contradict me. "Can you believe we're sitting here, just like we wanted? Looking down on the city like we always said?"

"I'm looking up," said Claire. "To whatever comes next."

"Always got to one-up me…" I laughed, and so did Claire.

"Joking aside, though, it's been a ride." She set her glass on the bench and gazed up at the sky. "Branding's always been kind of my bugbear. I'm not a designer. I don't get the, uh, zeitgeist. I have to sit back and listen to people who do, make myself trust them. Put my fate in their hands. I hate when it isn't me in control."

"You're still in control," I said. "You make the decisions."

"Hopefully the right ones." Claire crossed her fingers. "No, but seriously, how lucky are we? Tonight is amazing, this campus, this view. You'll do great things here. I can just feel it."

I sat there and studied her as she took in the starlight. A thought crossed my mind, kind of a sad one: I'd asked how she'd been and she'd talked about work. She always did, and I guessed so did I. She never mentioned her friends, or any lovers, only how far she'd come and what she'd planned next. What was her life like outside of work? Did she even have one? I did, in my head, a wishful to-do list for when I had time. Maybe she was lonely. Maybe?—

"Oh, while I've got you, I almost forgot." Claire stretched her feet out and toed her shoes back on. She got off the bench and went to the railing. "I have a conference next month in The Bahamas, a big fashion summit, a total nightmare. But there'll be a designer there I need for Timeless."

I rose as well, smiling. "So, you need your plus-one?"

"And maybe a ride on that plush jet of yours." Claire turned and winked at me, and I found myself laughing. I came up beside her and bumped my shoulder on hers.

"I'll be there," I said. "How long do you need me?"

"It's a three-day event, but I'm just flying in for the last night. So, just a quick overnight. That ought to do it. With our dream-team charm, I?—"

The elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open. Guests came spilling out, oohing and aahing, rushing to check out the view from the top.

"A fountain! Got change? Let's make a wish."

"I think that's a koi pond, maybe? They might be hiding under the lilies."

"I've got some quarters."

"I wish I worked here."

I groaned as the first quarter splashed into the pool. "Why didn't I lock that elevator?"

"They'd have taken the stairs." Claire smiled wide and bright at the crowd closing in. Joe emerged from amongst them and sidled up to my elbow.

"Sorry," he muttered. "We have a situation downstairs."

"A situation?"

"One of your investors is, uh, well, he's singing. He's on the piano, doing ‘Sweet Caroline.' I don't want to involve security, but he's definitely drunk. He's cleared the atrium already?—"

"Right. I've got this."

I sneaked one last glance over his shoulder at Claire. She was charming my guests, drawing out their stories. She'd always been good at that, getting people to trust her. Getting just about anyone to loosen up in her presence. I felt tighter, myself, walking away, a thread of irritation weaving its way through my good mood.

What was my life like outside of work?

I could answer that: more work, always something. Always some loose thread, some fly in the ointment, some new conundrum demanding a look. And I loved it, I did — I loved my work. Loved my life. But I wouldn't have minded a few more minutes with Claire. A couple more minutes, two old friends on the roof, and maybe I'd have asked her, read any good books lately? Been anywhere interesting? Met anyone fun?

The singing hit me, discordant and piercing. I straightened up, sighed, and adjusted my tie. One drunken investor, coming right up.