Serene

“I’M SERIOUS, SERENE, I want you using those tickets. I see what you do with all the other thank you gifts you get, and mine won’t suffer the same fate, understood?” Mr. Reed looked down at me, feigning a serious expression as he shrugged on his coat.

I nodded, fully intent on leaving the tickets exactly where they were. He was my boss within these walls and that was it. He couldn’t tell me when to take a vaca...

“I’m not kidding, Serene. I see that look on your face. We’ve been working together too long for me not to know your ‘you’re not the boss of me’ face. And you’re right. I’m not the boss of your life. But hear this—if you don’t take those tickets home with you and at least look at places to go during the holiday, I will be personally offended.”

He reached over my desk, pulled the airfare tickets out of my cigar box and laid them in front of me.

“With all due respect, Mr. Reed, I just don’t see how I can drop everything for—”

He waved away my comment. “Rachel has already agreed to take care of the day-to-day things and any long-term projects you’re working on can most definitely wait until after Christmas. Jesus, Serene, you’re such a Scrooge. Just take a damn vacation. Go somewhere nice and tropical. Day drink on a beach. Bang a cabana boy.” The very moment he said it, Mr. Reed realized he’d crossed a line, sucking in his breath like he wanted to suck the words back into his face. “Oh, you know what I mean. Just take the damn tickets.”

Landon Reed and I had never once crossed over the business line. We weren’t playful, we didn’t flirt and we most definitely didn’t tell each other to get laid. I was too serious about my job, and he was too serious about his girlfriend. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, however briefly. The self-made billionaire was attractive enough but other than being grossly inappropriate, he just wasn’t my type.

Still, I couldn’t resist a chuckle at the discomfort his verbal blunder caused. “I’ll take them home. But I’m making no promises.” A slight smile pulled at the corners of my mouth as I shut down my computer for the day.

“That’s all I’m asking,” he said as he backed out of the office. “And thanks for this.” He tapped on the gift-wrapped book. I’m sure Cass with love it.”

“She will,” I said and followed him out, locking the office as I went.

The second I stepped outside a tiny snowflake landed on my nose. I cinched my scarf tighter and ran, as best I could in four-inch heels, to the closest subway station. Outside of a ski trip, snow was only nice on postcards. It had the potential to wreak havoc on traffic, especially at rush hour. Luckily, I didn’t have far to go, it was only a few stops from the financial district to Greenwich Village. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at my stop, there was a full inch of snow on the ground and I, having checked the weather before work as I always did, didn’t bring any other shoes because they weren’t calling for any kind of precipitation. I trudged my heels through the already grimy slush, hoping they weren’t ruined and that my toes wouldn’t freeze off.

This was why snow is only nice on postcards.

A neighbor I didn’t talk to swept the snow off the steps to the building as I approached. “Hey, we’re doing a holiday potluck in the common room. You should come.”

I didn’t look as I passed her, didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken. I went in the building and to my flat.

It was rude. I know. But if I didn’t talk then she wouldn’t hear my accent. And if she didn’t hear it then she wouldn’t ask me where I’m from. An innocuous question for most but when you’re hiding who you are all questions are bad questions.

I’d tried to lose it. I tried to deaden the crisp t’s and d’s and harden my r’s. But I could never do it convincingly.

I didn’t have to worry about people at work poking around with questions. I didn’t work closely with anyone besides Mr. Reed, and he was too busy running his company to even notice I was English.

I hung up my coat, tossed the tickets and my keys on the coffee table and was about to inspect the damage to my shoes and toes when the doorbell rang. I ignored it assuming it was the neighbor being overly neighborly.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hey, Serene, open up. It’s your favorite cousin.”

“Noah!” I shrieked and ran to the door, flinging it open and throwing myself at my cousin. Noah Mercer was my closest family member. We both had kind of messed up childhoods. His a little more than mine. He and his twin brother, Nick had always been so good to me whenever I came to visit but Noah and I always had a special bond.

He chuckled as I hugged him. “Too tight, Serene. You’re gonna kill me.”

I laughed and pulled him inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, leading him to the kitchen for some tea.

“Jeez. I always forget what a dump you live in.” He looked around the flat, taking in the chipped, peeling paint, the yellow stained ceiling from poorly patched water damage and my too-small-to-turn-around-in kitchen.

I pursed my lips at him and busied myself with the tea. “Are you here for a reason or just to disapprove of my life choices?” I said, tone edging on defensive. I know he didn’t mean anything by it but he knew damn well why I stayed here.

Turning to place the cups and sugar on the tiny dining table, I was met with Noah’s mournful stare. “When are you going to stop hiding, Serene?” he asked quietly.

I took a breath, steeling myself against my cousin’s gaze, and changed the subject. “How are your classes going?” I asked and grabbed my tea box from the counter.

Noah rolled his eyes at me and sighed. “Jesus, Serene. You’re a goddamn titled heiress. I get why you work, it’s no fun sitting in your castle all day counting money you didn’t earn. But why on earth do you insist on hiding in cheap student housing?”

I smiled, nervously hoping my well-meaning but irritating cousin would let it go. “Noah, you know I don’t have a castle.”

“Not the point, Serene.”

“Please, let’s drop it.”

“Nope, I’m not going to this time. What is your deal, Serene? You could own this building, hell, you could own Greenwich Village if you wanted. But here you are in a shitty apartment drinking your tea from chipped mugs. What is the thought process behind pretending to be poor?”

I slammed the milk on the table. “I’m not pretending I’m poor, Noah.”

“What then?”

I took a breath, wanting very much not to have this conversation. It tumbled out anyway. “Do you know how hard I worked to build a name for myself on my own? Do you know how long it took me to cultivate all those relationships so that at a moment’s notice I could get pretty much anything done? That sweep-her-off-her-feet date you asked me to plan last month? That took five different contacts. Five people who trust me not because of who I am or who my father is or how much money I have but because I earned their trust. The hard way—years of proving myself over and over to these people. Do you have any idea how hard it is for everyone to assume your daddy bought you your job? Do you know what it feels like to have no one listen to your ideas because clearly, you’re just a trust fund bimbo without a thought in her head? Well, do you?”

“I—I...”

“No you don’t. So don’t judge where I live. Don’t judge the choices I’ve made. I love my job but only because I know I earned every bit of respect, prestige, and dollar that comes my way. Got it?”

Noah put his hands up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you all worked up.” He stepped toward me but I backed away. “Serene, I’m just a big believer in getting everything you want. I think you can have your contacts and respect and not have to hide who you are.”

I knew better. My first job out of school had taught me well. It only took one person figuring out who my father was and that I was part of the British aristocracy for the rumors started. It was two months before the stories got so out of control HR requested a meeting with me. They informed me that buying secrets from their competition was not only frowned upon but considered corporate espionage. They gave me a generous severance package and terminated me on the spot. They didn’t bother asking if I’d done it. Just like the thought never crossed their minds that I was good at my job and I didn’t need to cheat to do it well. I didn’t bother trying to change their minds but I left with a vow to learn from that mistake.

“Drink your tea,” I said, accidentally putting far too much sugar into my own.

It took a few minutes for the tension to leave the room and for Noah to move on but eventually he did, just like always. “You know that date won her over, right?”

I smiled. “Of course it did. Although, from what Nick tells me—”

“All right, let’s not get into that.”

I smirked at his discomfort. I didn’t care how he and Nick lived their lives. Sharing the same woman was bound to raise a few eyebrows but I only cared that I’d made Noah as uncomfortable as he’d just made me.

Now we were even.

“Anyway, I’m here to thank you properly.” Noah pulled an envelope from inside his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. I opened it expecting tickets to something I wouldn’t attend.

“Hm,” I said surprised I wasn’t holding a pair of tickets. Instead, I held a picture of a snow-covered cabin on a mountainside, a low moon just visible through streaks of clouds. “What’s this?” I asked.

“I booked you a Christmas trip to Aspen.” Pleased with himself, Noah grinned from ear to ear.

I pursed my lips at him. It was a ticket, it just didn’t look like one. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Noah but completely unnecessary.” I tucked the paper back in the envelope and thought of all the people I knew who might make better use of it.

“Every thing is taken care off, lodging, shuttles, meals, even ski rentals.”

I scoffed at my cousin. “I have my own skis, Noah.”

He smiled at me. “Then you’ll go?”

I sighed. “I can’t take off work. But thank you. I really do appreciate the gesture.”

Noah crossed his arms at me. “You’re an awful liar.”

I knew I was. But I wasn’t backing down. No way was I going anywhere. I liked working.

Noah rolled his eyes, then went to the front of the flat. To my astonishment he came back with the airfare tickets Mr. Reed had given me, dropping them on the table. “Jeannie and Cass are friends,” he said as an explanation.

Bloody hell. Mr. Reed’s girlfriend must have told Noah’s girlfriend, Jeannie, what he’d gotten me as a bonus. I wracked my brain trying to think of an excuse, any excuse to bow out of their gifts.

Noah shook his head at me. “How good does it feel when you can deliver the precise thing someone has asked for? It’s rhetorical,” he said when I tried to answer. “And what kind of warm and fuzzies do you get when you gift one of your contacts something really extravagant as a thank you?”

“Well—but that’s different.”

“Still rhetorical, Serene. Look, all I’m saying is it’s pretty shitty that you’re refusing to let us have those same great feelings because—what? You’re too much of a workaholic? You’re scared someone will find out who you are? Just go, okay. Have fun. Build a damn snowman. You deserve it.”

I sighed, knowing Noah had won. I’d go to Aspen. I’d ski my ass off. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.