Chapter 2 - 8:13 Every Morning
Harper entered the elevator carrying enough breakfast for someone who had clearly skipped dinner.
The pastry bag crinkled beneath her arm.
Her oversized iced coffee left rings of condensation across her fingers.
Victor noticed both.
He disliked that he noticed both.
“You're eight minutes earlier than yesterday,” he said.
Harper's smile vanished.
“That is an alarming level of observation.”
Victor immediately regretted the sentence.
Arthur, standing behind them, appeared fascinated by the ceiling.
Harper slowly stepped farther into the elevator.
“Are you secretly an attendance supervisor?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I already have one person disappointed in my punctuality. I don't need a mysterious second manager.”
Victor pressed fourteen.
Harper looked at the illuminated button.
Then at him.
“You remembered.”
“It was yesterday.”
“I forget things from yesterday all the time.”
“That sounds inefficient.”
“That is because you haven't embraced chaos.”
Victor's gaze moved toward her.
Harper nodded seriously.
“Chaos saves time.”
“How?”
“You stop expecting anything to work.”
Victor almost smiled.
Almost.
Harper caught it.
She leaned toward him slightly.
“Wait.”
Victor's expression immediately reset.
“That was nearly a human facial expression.”
Arthur looked down.
Victor suspected he was hiding amusement.
“What delayed you yesterday?” Victor asked.
Harper sighed dramatically.
“A man tried to carry a bicycle sideways onto the train.”
Victor frowned.
“Why?”
“That is exactly what everyone asked him.”
The elevator reached fourteen.
Harper stepped out.
“Tomorrow, Mr. Logistics.”
Victor's brows tightened.
“What?”
“Your nickname.”
“I didn't give you permission to nickname me.”
“You didn't give me your actual name.”
She smiled.
“Consequences.”
The elevator doors closed.
Victor looked at Arthur.
Arthur remained professionally expressionless.
“If you laugh,” Victor said, “you're fired.”
“I haven't laughed.”
“You're thinking about it.”
“I can't be disciplined for thoughts.”
Victor stepped from the elevator at forty-two.
“We'll revisit that policy.”
By lunchtime, he had attended six meetings.
He remembered almost none of them.
His thoughts repeatedly returned to Harper.
Not romantically.
Victor rejected that description immediately.
She was a curiosity.
An irregularity.
Something had disrupted his routine, and his mind was attempting to understand it.
That was all.
At least that's what he told himself until 12:38 p.m., when his private assistant announced that someone from BrightLine Creative had delivered a package.
Victor stared at the small white bag placed on his desk.
Inside was a coffee.
Black.
No sugar.
Beside it was a folded note.
Mr. Logistics,
I accidentally bought two. This one doesn't taste like burned furniture. Consider it repayment for yesterday's elevator rescue.
—Elevator Criminal
Victor read the note twice.
Then a third time.
Arthur entered halfway through the fourth.
“What is that?”
“Coffee.”
“I can see that.”
Victor folded the note.
Arthur's eyes followed the movement.
“From Miss Davis?”
Victor's expression sharpened.
“You've become unusually interested in administrative details.”
Arthur ignored the warning.
“We identified the sedan.”
Victor immediately became serious.
“Who owns it?”
“Shell company.”
“Connected to?”
“We're tracing it.”
“Camera footage?”
“The vehicle exited through Lower Wacker ten minutes after you arrived.”
Victor rose.
“Pull traffic cameras.”
“Already doing it.”
Arthur hesitated.
“There is another problem.”
Victor waited.
“The same car was outside BrightLine last night.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“Does Harper know?”
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
Arthur studied him.
“For now?”
Victor said nothing.
That evening, Harper worked late.
At 7:26, Victor saw the light still burning on the fourteenth floor through security records he had absolutely no legitimate reason to be reviewing personally.
At 7:41, he left his office.
Arthur followed him.
“Going home?”
“Eventually.”
The elevator stopped at fourteen.
Arthur said nothing.
Victor stepped out.
BrightLine's offices were nearly empty.
A cleaning crew moved somewhere in the distance.
Harper sat at her desk surrounded by color proofs and packaging mock-ups.
Her glasses had slipped down her nose.
She was arguing with her computer.
“No.”
She clicked something.
“No, no, no.”
Another click.
“You were working thirty seconds ago. We had an agreement.”
Victor leaned against the partition.
“Does threatening technology usually help?”
Harper jerked upright.
“Jesus!”
Victor raised one eyebrow.
She placed a hand over her chest.
“You can't just appear silently like that.”
“I walked.”
“Like a vampire.”
Arthur turned away.
Harper noticed him.
“Oh. Security Friend is here too.”
“Arthur Beckett,” Arthur finally said.
Harper smiled.
“Harper Davis.”
“I know.”
Her smile faded.
“You know?”
Arthur realized the mistake.
Victor intervened.
“He manages building security.”
Understanding returned to Harper's face.
“Oh. Right. Employee records.”
Arthur nodded.
Victor changed the subject.
“Why are you still working?”
“Deadline.”
“What project?”
“Gallow Holdings.”
Victor went still.
Harper turned her monitor.
A campaign covered the screen.
BrightLine had apparently been hired to redesign promotional materials for Gallow's community redevelopment division.
“This company owns half the city,” Harper said. “My manager says the owner is incredibly demanding.”
Victor glanced at Arthur.
Arthur's mouth twitched.
Harper continued.
“Apparently people are terrified of him.”
“Are they?”
“So I've heard.”
“What do you think?”
Harper shrugged.
“I haven't met him.”
Victor stared at her.
Arthur coughed.
Harper narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You two keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Having conversations with your faces.”
Victor changed the subject again.
“Have you eaten?”
Harper looked at the abandoned pastry bag on her desk.
“That depends on whether half a croissant at ten counts.”
“It doesn't.”
“I suspected as much.”
Victor looked toward Arthur.
“Car.”
Harper blinked.
“What?”
“I'll take you to dinner.”
Her eyes widened.
Victor heard his own words after he'd said them.
Arthur definitely heard them.
So did Harper.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then Harper slowly smiled.
“Was that an invitation or a corporate acquisition?”
“Dinner.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“That sounded painful.”
Victor's jaw shifted.
“Do you want dinner or not?”
Harper laughed.
“Yes, Mr. Logistics. I want dinner.”
Thirty minutes later, they sat in a quiet Italian restaurant overlooking the river.
Harper had refused the private dining room Victor normally used.
“It feels like we're hiding from someone.”
Victor had nearly answered, Maybe we should be.
Instead, they sat beside the window.
Harper ordered pasta without checking the price.
Then checked the price and visibly reconsidered.
Victor noticed.
“Order what you want.”
“I am.”
“You closed the menu after seeing the number.”
“Coincidence.”
“Harper.”
She stared at him.
It was the first time he'd said her name.
Something changed between them.
Small.
But real.
Harper lowered her voice.
“You know, I still don't know yours.”
Victor leaned back.
“Victor.”
“Victor what?”
He held her gaze.
“Gallow.”
Silence.
Harper blinked.
Then blinked again.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Her face turned pale.
“Gallow as in—”
“Yes.”
“As in the company I'm currently redesigning ads for?”
“Yes.”
“As in the incredibly demanding terrifying billionaire my manager told me never to annoy?”
Arthur, seated discreetly several tables away, lowered his head.
Victor watched Harper.
She slowly covered her face with both hands.
“Oh my God.”
Victor waited.
Harper looked through her fingers.
“I called you Mr. Logistics.”
“You did.”
“I told you your coffee tasted illegal.”
“Yes.”
“I called your face almost human.”
“Yes.”
Harper remained frozen.
Then something completely unexpected happened.
She started laughing.
Not nervously.
Actually laughing.
Victor watched her.
“You find this amusing?”
“I spent two mornings insulting one of the most powerful businessmen in Chicago.”
“That summarizes it.”
“And you still bought me dinner.”
“Yes.”
Her laughter softened.
“Why?”
The question hit harder than it should have.
Victor looked at her.
Because you make elevators feel less empty.
Because I waited for you this morning.
Because after eleven years of protecting myself from wanting anything, I wanted tomorrow to arrive simply because you might be in it.
Instead he said, “I was hungry.”
Harper smiled.
“Coward.”
Victor's expression changed.
She saw it.
For the first time that evening, silence between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was something else.
Then Victor's phone vibrated.
A message from Arthur.
Gray sedan outside. Same vehicle.
Victor's eyes moved toward the restaurant window.
Across the river-facing street, a man stood beneath an awning.
Phone raised.
Camera pointed directly at Harper.
Victor's entire body went still.
Harper noticed.
“What happened?”
Victor rose.
“Dinner's over.”
Her smile vanished.
“What?”
“Arthur.”
Arthur was already moving.
Harper stood.
“Victor, what's going on?”
Victor crossed toward her.
His voice lowered.
“You're coming with me.”
“Why?”
Another message appeared on his phone.
This one contained a photograph.
Harper leaving her apartment that morning.
Below it were seven words.
YOU FINALLY GAVE US SOMEWHERE TO AIM.
Victor stared at the screen.
His father's warning returned from sixteen years earlier.
Attachment gives your enemies somewhere to aim.
May you like
And for the first time in Victor Gallow's adult life, someone had found the target.
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