That sentence stayed with him.
Chapter 2
PART 2 — THE SECRET BEHIND THE WRONG NUMBER
1,511 words
He asked for a review.
Emily spent two weeks working with the center’s director after hours to repair its reporting structure.
The funding was restored.
No press release mentioned her.
Emily didn’t ask for one.
That was when Alexander stopped merely being curious about her.
He began looking for her.
Her footsteps outside his office.
Her laugh at the end of the hallway.
The expression she made when she disagreed with a spreadsheet.
James noticed first.
“You’ve smiled more in eight weeks than in the previous eight years.”
Alexander didn’t look away from his laptop.
“That is statistically unlikely.”
“I keep records.”
“You need more work.”
“I have plenty. Watching you pretend not to be in love is simply recreational.”
Alexander’s gaze snapped upward.
“Do not say that.”
James’s smile disappeared.
Alexander lowered his voice.
“She works for me.”
“I know.”
“Her career matters.”
“I know.”
“She earned every inch
of ground she has gained here, and I will not let anyone believe otherwise because of something I feel.”
James studied his oldest friend.
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
Alexander kept that promise for another four months.
He never touched Emily unnecessarily.
Never gave her a promotion she had not earned.
Never altered her evaluations.
When she was selected to lead a regional efficiency project, the decision came from a committee.
When she presented the results and saved the company three million dollars annually, Alexander applauded with everyone else.
But after the room emptied, Emily remained behind.
“You look proud.”
“I am.”
She tilted her head.
“That sounded dangerously sincere.”
“You did excellent work.”
“Thank you.”
She collected her notes, then hesitated.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You usually do whether I grant permission or not.”
“Why are you always alone?”
The question caught him completely unprepared.
He looked toward the windows.
“Being surrounded by people doesn’t mean you have someone you can trust.”
Emily’s expression softened.
Alexander wished it hadn’t.
“Money complicates things,” he said. “Success complicates them more. Eventually you stop knowing whether people like the room you’re standing in or the person standing inside it.”
Emily leaned against the conference table.
“Then maybe you don’t need a hundred trustworthy people.”
“No?”
“Maybe you need one.”
Alexander looked at her.
“And what makes you think I haven’t already found one?”
Emily’s breath changed.
For one suspended second, neither moved.
Then she smiled awkwardly.
“Well, whoever she is, she’s lucky.”
He almost told her.
He wanted to.
Instead, he said, “We should get back to work.”
That night Alexander called Emily at 9:30.
She answered after two rings.
“Mr. Hayes?”
“It’s Alexander.”
Silence.
Then, “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“Did I forget a report?”
“No.”
“Did the
Chicago numbers collapse?”
“No.”
“Then why is my billionaire boss calling me at home?”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“I wanted to ask how your day went.”
A long pause followed.
When Emily spoke again, her voice was softer.
“It was better after you called.”
That was the beginning.
Not of a relationship.
Of the danger of one.
Over the next month, evening calls became occasional conversations.
They talked about books, food, bad television, Linda’s obsession with crossword puzzles, Alexander’s inability to cook anything more complicated than eggs.
One Friday, Emily said, “This is probably a terrible idea.”
“What is?”
“Us talking like this.”
Alexander leaned back in his darkened office.
“Yes.”
“Because you’re my boss.”
“Yes.”
“And because I care what people think of my work.”
“I know.”
“I never want anyone believing I climbed because you pulled me.”
“You didn’t.”
“You know that. I know that. Offices survive on rumors.”
Alexander went quiet.
Then he said, “Your career matters too much for me to make it complicated.”
Emily felt an irrational stab of disappointment.
She hated herself for it.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For understanding.”
The following Monday, Alexander transferred direct oversight of Emily’s development program to the chief operating officer.
He did it quietly.
She confronted him immediately.
“You moved me.”
“I removed myself from your evaluation chain.”
“Why?”
“You already know why.”
Emily stared at him.
Alexander continued, “If we ever have dinner, I want you to know it cannot affect your salary, promotion, or future here.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“If?”
He met her eyes.
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Have dinner with me.”
She smiled despite herself.
“You negotiate billion-dollar acquisitions more confidently than this, don’t you?”
“Usually.”
Emily pretended to consider.
“One dinner.”
“One.”
“No work.”
“No work.”
“And you’re not allowed to have your driver collect me in something that looks like the president of a small country is arriving.”
Alexander smiled.
“I’ll try to restrain myself.”
Dinner was simpler than Emily expected.
Alexander chose a quiet Italian restaurant in Brooklyn rather than a celebrity-filled Manhattan dining room.
No private room.
No photographers.
No extravagant bottle of wine.
He wore a dark sweater instead of a suit.
For the first hour, Emily almost forgot who he was.
Then she asked, “Why haven’t you ever married?”
Alexander looked down at his glass.
“Too personal?”
“No.”
He considered his answer.
“My father was wealthy before I was born. My mother married him because she loved him. At least I think she did at first. But after he died, everyone around us wanted something. Investors. Relatives. Friends. People I dated.”
Emily watched his expression close.
“One woman sold details about our relationship to a magazine before I even knew she considered us serious enough to describe publicly.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That was years ago.”
“That doesn’t make it pleasant.”
Alexander looked at her.
“I’ve spent most of my adult life wondering whether anyone could see me before they saw the money.”
Emily’s voice softened.
“I hope someday someone does.”
“I think someone already has.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Alexander…”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“Are you talking about me?”
“Yes.”
Emily lowered her eyes.
He didn’t reach across the table.
Didn’t touch her.
“I’m not asking you to answer tonight. I just don’t want to lie about how I feel.”
She laughed nervously.
“Then I should probably admit I almost canceled this dinner three times.”
“So did I.”
“Really?”
“I thought you might cancel first.”
That made her smile.
“Good. I’m glad the terrifying Alexander Hayes is capable of being nervous.”
“Only under highly unusual circumstances.”
“And am I a highly unusual circumstance?”
“The most unusual.”
Emily looked at him for several seconds.
“I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling.”
“That’s fair.”
“But I know I don’t want tonight to end.”
Relief flickered across Alexander’s face.
Then guilt followed immediately.
Emily noticed.
“What?”
He had rehearsed this moment many times.
None of the rehearsals made it easier.
“There is something I should have told you months ago.”
Emily’s smile faded.
“What?”
Alexander put both hands on the table.
“Do you remember the night you graduated?”
She laughed uncertainly.
“Of course.”
“You called your aunt.”
“I tried to.”
Alexander said nothing.
Emily froze.
The restaurant suddenly felt too quiet.
“No.”
“Emily—”
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
“I was the man who answered.”
She stared at him.
Alexander could see every memory rearranging itself behind her face.
“Mr. Wrong Number?”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“From your first day.”
Her chair shifted backward.
“You knew who I was before I walked into your company?”
“I knew after the call. I asked James to find out whether you were searching for work.”
Emily’s face drained of color.
“You found me.”
“Yes.”
“You got me the interview.”
“Yes.”
“Did you get me the job?”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“Alexander.”
“I swear to you, I did not participate in the hiring decision.”
“You expect me to believe you tracked down a stranger after one phone call, sent her résumé into your company, and then just stepped away?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds insane.”
“I know.”
“Was the interview real?”
“Completely.”
“Did they know you wanted me?”
“No.”
“Did they know we had spoken?”
“No.”
“Did you ever tell them to hire me?”
“Never.”
Emily pushed back from the table.
“I need to go.”
Alexander stood.
“I’ll take you home.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“I said no.”
People were beginning to look.
She lowered her voice.
“Do you understand what you just did to every good memory I have from the last year?”
His expression tightened.
“I understand why you’re angry.”
“No, you don’t.”
She wiped a tear away furiously.
“I spent my whole life earning things nobody gave me. I worked through college because there was no safety net. I walked into Hayes International terrified that I wasn’t good enough.”
“You were.”
“But now I don’t know whether I ever should have been there.”
“You should have.”
“You decided I deserved an opportunity before I even applied.”
“I decided you deserved an interview.”
“That distinction matters to you because you were born with the power to open doors.”
The words hit him.
Emily saw it.
She didn’t apologize.
“To someone like me, the door is half the battle.”
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