Hester woke up at five, about an hour before her alarm, and started her usual routine. There was a Zumba class on Thursdays; she tried that rather than her normal yoga one, and got to the office at eight thirty, a little later than usual, but still a lot earlier than she should. She spent most of her morning on the phone with Italy to round out the details about the purchase of a new harbor; it looked like they were going to make a decent profit on the deal, as the seller was willing to go down to two hundred thousand euros, and Edmund hadn't flinched at four hundred. She winced, feeling a little guilty about profiting quite so much from a guy who just wanted to give his grieving mom a present. She shrugged it off. It was just business, and Edmund could obviously afford it. 

By eleven, she was calling his cell. 

"Three hundred. We'll just sell the harbor for three hundred thousand dollars, all right?" 

Ed laughed on the other end of the line. "Hi, Hester, how are you doing? Yeah, me too. Great day." 

"We'll profit plenty enough at three hundred." 

"I've already said yes to four and your team has sent me the paperwork."

Dammit. She should have checked with Claudia before calling him. "Oh. Sorry. I was just—I checked on the harbor we're going to buy, and it looked like we sort of screwed you on this deal." 

"You can screw me any time. Really." 

Well, she'd walked right into that one. 

"So, Desmond and Ryn took me out last night. That certainly was enlightening. And it explains so much about your twitchiness. You're not into bonds and ropes, I take it?" 

She laughed awkwardly. "I was calling for a business matter, Edmund. I'm working." 

"You were being a sweetheart and calling to save me money. That counts as a personal call. Take it off your allotted coffee break time or something." 

Her nose twitched. 

"That's not how this works." 

"How does it work, then, Hester?" he asked. "I can follow the rules if I know what they are." 

She hadn't expected him to sound quite so considerate. 

"I'm working nine to five every weekday. I don't like distractions during those times." 

"Even during your lunch breaks?" 

"They're generally working lunches, so, yes. Even if I'm eating by myself—I don't like to have my head out of the game during working hours." 

"Understandable," Edmund replied. "All right, anything else?" 

"I don't like the idea of being—seen after hours with a business partner. That's unprofessional." 

"No unprofessionalism whatsoever. What else?" 

"I have a personal mobile phone. I'd prefer to use that for nonprofessional interactions." 

"Text me from it. Anything else?"

Why was he being so very accommodating all of a sudden? 

"That's it." 

"All right. Saturday night, my suite. Room service. They have an excellent menu." 

"And cheesy chips." 

He chuckled on the other end of the line. "And that, too." After a pause, Edmund said, "I've been dreaming about getting you up there all to myself all week, Hester Hall." 

She laughed. "Yeah, right. Let's not pretend this is anything more than what it is, Ed. Good fun." 

"Yes, I expect we'll have a lot of fun, you and I. Now, I have to get back to work, and so do you. Talk to you after five." 

Hester was astonished that Edmund did, in fact, leave her alone until five, and even more shocked that exactly at five o'clock, her generally silent old phone displayed a new text from him. 

She unlocked the screen. 

"I'm curious. Why did you think I'd lose interest in you after checking out the Tower?" 

She rolled her eyes. 

"Like that isn't obvious." 

"Evidently, it isn't." 

He was going to get her to spell it out, wasn't he? 

"There are hot models, and actresses, and singers, all after a good time." 

"And you believe that you're not as worthy of interest as said hot models, actresses, and singers. My shrink would have a lot to say about that. Fortunately for you, he's not on the continent." 

She started to type. "I don't think that I'm a lesser person. I just know they're a lot more…" 

Her fingers stilled. More what, exactly? She erased the message, and replaced it by, "Whatever." 

"Defensive. To tell you the truth, I had a thing with an actress, once. Never again. She turned me off the entire industry. I'm certain some of them aren't drama queens, but I have PTSD. As soon as I hear 'actress', I lose my boner. Serious issue." 

They chatted seamlessly for the rest of the evening, and the following day. 

Hester finished at two on Fridays; with Desmond's approval, she spent the afternoon volunteering at a youth club in Brooklyn, close to the group home where she'd spent most of her childhood. Back in the day, she'd spent most of her free time in the streets before that club was founded by the neighborhood parents. Now, giving some of her time there was important to her. Desmond used to overwork her, treating her like she was some sort of a robot, and she hadn't complained, because the paycheck was worth it, but sometime around when he started to date Ryn, he stopped to look at Hester's schedule and made modifications. He let her hire her own assistant and considerably lightened her load.  He even gave her the apartment so close to Kings and Knights to limit her commute. 

Hester had always had a knack for math; she tutored some kids until five, when she taught a simple yoga class. 

She ignored her phone until seven, and found three messages waiting for her. 

"Another meeting with the family. Joy." 

"What are you up to?" 

"Done for the day." 

The last one had been sent about an hour ago. She replied, "I told you I was busy on Fridays." 

"Anything fun?" 

"Volunteering. Honestly, it's rewarding, but between that and a full week at the office, I always crash right after. My bed is beckoning me." 

"Lucky bed. Where do you volunteer?" 

She generally felt quite self-conscious when she talked about her upbringing, but Edmund was equally curious about every subject they'd attacked, and he'd never said anything close to judgmental, so she told him about growing up in the city, and the club, and what she did for it now. She even revealed how she and a bunch of the kids she'd grown up with funded a small scholarship they gave to one Brooklyn kid every year. It ate into her income quite a bit, but she pointed out it was tax deductible. 

To her surprise, instead of answering by text, Edmund called her for the first time since Thursday mid-day.