C12, PT. 2

The interior designer who put her mark on Roth’s penthouses had taken a different approach with his headquarters. The office was airy, bright, and elegant with a modern sophistication she knew Ariana would appreciate. The designer mixed glass with gleaming wood and used dramatic lighting to great effect. The office was twice as large as she expected and with so much greenery, she found herself wondering if Roth hired a full-time gardener to tend to all the plants. It was clear that the office wasn’t tailored to Roth’s tastes, but his employees.

A break room had been made into an upscale café with soft jazz music playing, a coffee bar with a fancy espresso machine, and chocolate brown couches. A handful of people occupied tables with their laptops in front of them, clearly there to work, not eat lunch. Providing access to caffeine and a coffee shop vibe without leaving the office would certainly keep his employees motivated and productive.

As they continued the tour and Sara continued to point out all the customizations, she realized how much Roth had invested in such a short time. She’d known Roth wouldn’t buy an office or penthouse if he wasn’t planning to stay, but she assumed he would have another office in London or somewhere else. But, it was clear that he was making this a permanent move by gathering his employees in one location. She thought they wouldn’t run into each other much post divorce, but the fact that his offices were right across from Hennessy headquarters, and he may not be traveling as much, made it much more likely for their paths to cross. She couldn’t imagine how they’d interact in the future, and didn’t have time to ponder it as Sarai introduced her to his staff.

Thankfully, the interactions were brief, since Sarai never lingered. The most that was required of her was a handshake or polite smile. Sarai was stopped frequently and seemed to know exactly what each person wanted before they could ask.

“Yes, I saw your email. I’ll circle back to you once I’m through with the tour. I’m showing Mr. Roth’s wife, Jasmine, around the office.”

The office was relatively quiet with phone rings answered immediately, voices kept at a low murmur, and the rhythmic tap of computer keys. Unusual for an office with so much activity. Then again, it was well-known that Roth hated unnecessary noise and his employees didn’t have time to chit-chat—they were working their assess off to keep up with their workaholic boss that she knew for a fact slept very little. There seemed to be an equal number of men and women, and they seemed to be from all over the globe. As they passed spacious offices with frosted glass sliding walls instead of doors, she heard more than one employee speaking something other than English.

“You don’t like it,” Sarai said bluntly when she concluded the tour.

She blinked. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“The designer’s taste is impeccable.”

“But not your style?”

She gestured to herself before she flapped her hand at Sarai’s coordinated outfit. “You have more style than I ever will.”

Sarai cocked her head to the side. “I’ll ask around for some eccentric designers who can come up with some off the wall concepts for your home office.”

She made a face, not sure whether she should be offended. “Don’t bother.”

Sarai ignored her and pointed down the hall to the executive suite. “You know where to find him.”

“I don’t want to interrupt his meeting.”

The hustle and bustle of his employees was far too similar to her family’s offices and reminded her that she didn’t belong in this sector of his life. It wasn’t that long ago that she tried to dissuade Penelope from interrupting a business luncheon, and now she was doing the same without giving him warning. There was no guarantee that the man she was beginning to trust in private would translate to his place of business. This was his domain. He wouldn’t take kindly to any distractions, especially when he was already leaving work early so they could have dinner together. Sarai’s reassurance that she held a position in his life that no other woman had occupied gave her a burst of optimism that was quickly waning.

She extracted the bag of cookies from her purse and held them out to Sarai. “You can give these to him when he’s finished. I’ll see him later.”

Sarai gave her an odd look. “How do you think he’ll react if he finds out you were here and didn’t stop by to see him?”

Happy that she hadn’t interrupted? Wondering why she bothered to stop by in the first place? She stepped back and bumped into Mo.

Sarai glanced at her watch. “He’s been in back to back meetings since five. You’re precisely what he needs right now. I have a conference call I can’t miss. I’ll catch up with you later.”

And with that, Sarai left her standing there. If it were up to her, she would have turned tail and run. Old habits die hard. But, the choice was taken from her when Johan strode down the hallway. Mo grabbed her arm as if he sensed she was on the verge of bolting. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to smile at those who looked up from computers or stopped their conversations as she passed.

Okay, this was seriously fucking awkward. What if Roth lost his shit and lectured her in front of his colleagues? Or worse, coldly dismissed her and said he didn’t have time for her? That would be nothing new, but it would erode the progress they made. Roth, like most men, liked to keep their business and personal lives separate. That was understandable. What had she been thinking? If he were upset, she would quickly excuse herself. The paper bag of cookies crinkled as she clutched it for dear life. Fifteen minutes ago, the cookies seemed like a good idea. Now, she felt like a fool.

She grabbed the back of Johan’s coat, pulling him back a step when he raised his hand to knock. “I think we should leave.”

Blond brows would have hit his hairline if he had one. Mo let out an impatient sound and reached over her head and gave a firm double knock. She elbowed him in the stomach hard enough to make him grunt as the door opened.

 **This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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