The platform that looked out over the trading floor was a white gabled balcony. Across the front hung a banner with the Draco logo and lettering. My former bosses and their significant others crowded the platform around the CEO. Adam stood talking to the chief executive officer of the Stock Exchange, likely receiving the last of the instructions. Mia stood at his shoulder, a wide smile on her face. The operating officer, Cheryl Waltman, whom everybody called “Walt,” and her husband and all the others stood behind and around them.
But there was a noticeable empty space at Adam’s other side, where Jordan should have been standing.
Adam looked tense. But whether it was because of the hoopla surrounding the initial public offering or because of Jordan’s absence, I couldn’t tell. America’s soon-to-be newest billionaire stepped up to the podium and, at the exact stroke of nine, pressed the button that set off a cacophony of bell-ringing while everyone around him beamed and applauded. Then he picked up the gavel and handed it to Mia, who, with a shocked smile, hit it against the sounding block. Then they embraced.
I turned to watch Jordan as he took in the goings-on. His face was an unreadable mask, his eyes hooded. It was his dream to be up on that platform when the company listed on the market. He’d been working hard for years to that end. But he’d left. He was here, sitting on my bed, watching it on a twelve-inch laptop screen instead.
My throat closed up, but I didn’t want to interrupt his moment. Just after the live feed cut, we went to the trading page to follow the price of the shares opening at thirty-five dollars and watched them rise steadily. Jordan remained silent and didn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.
Finally, I leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Are you going to tell me why you aren’t there with the rest of your colleagues?”
His gaze flicked to me before skirting away. “I no longer work at Draco.”
All breath left me in a sudden rush and my jaw slackened. I blinked, my mind racing and my mouth unable to find the words—any words—to say. Jordan spoke for me.
“I told Adam he needed to fire me, and when he refused, I quit.”
“Why?”
“Because—because I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.”
My mouth worked for a moment, my throat dry. “That’s…that’s so stupid.”
His brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“There’s no reason to share this humiliation…it’s not like doing that is going to make this any better for me. In fact, it will make it worse.”
He frowned but didn’t say anything. My fist tightened.
“You need to tell him you want your job back.”
“I won’t do that.”
My face flushed and I pounded my fist on the bed between us. “Jordan! Could you be any dumber? I was going to end my internship in two weeks anyway. It was so not worth it!”
He scowled, his eyes narrowing. “I really hate it when you say that. Because it’s not true.”
In exasperation, I set the laptop aside and stood. I needed a minute. This nausea and anger and…and…this stew of emotions simmering inside my chest made it hard to breathe. I was almost out of my room before he caught my arm and closed the door. He pulled me around to face him.
“Why is it so hard for you to see?” he asked in a voice steeped with emotion.
That simmering stew was boiling over. Tears sprang from my eyes and my chest tightened. I couldn’t talk so I shook my head.
“April,” he said quietly, placing his hands on both of my cheeks, holding my head still. I squeezed my eyes shut. Who would have thought I’d have more tears to shed than I already had?
“Go away,” I whispered. “I’ve already decided that I need to hate you.”
“Really?” he said in an equally quiet voice. His thumb smoothed over my cheek, and he moved so close I could feel the tendrils of his warm breath skate across my skin. My throat tightened and those damn tears kept coming.
“It’s my only defense right now. You need to go.”
Slowly, his hands dropped away from my face, but he didn’t move. I shuddered a little, already aching with the loss of him. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to see his beautiful face staring into mine. It hurt too much. But I didn’t want him to walk away, either.
“Let me tell you something, and then I’ll go away if you really want me to.”
I didn’t say anything but nodded my silent permission.
“It really pisses me off when you say that you aren’t worth it. You say that over and over, and I honestly think you believe it.”