The Work Retreat

THE WORK RETREAT A GRIPPING AND UNPUTDOWNABLE PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER SL HARKER CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Epilogue Author bio Also by SL Harker 1 Is there anything more destructive than obsession—the kind that destroys your sense of right and wrong, that seeps into every thought, making it impossible to think straight? I’m at our annual work retreat with my colleagues sitting around me, and all I can see is him. My married boss. The man I can’t stop crushing over. It’s sick. It’s stupid. I’m thirty, and I should know better. But I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been a walking wound for so long. Nathan’s eyes stumble onto mine. It’s brief, a millisecond at best, but electric heat bolts up my spine like a firecracker. I’m the first to break eye contact, shuffling my gaze to my lap as warmth spreads from my neck to my face. I’m sure I’m the color of a ripe tomato, and a whole room of my coworkers are here to witness my shame. He clears his throat and speaks, the vibrato of his voice dripping like sap through the small banquet room. “So, folks, we are going to try this team-building exercise to see where we stand with the marketing process for several products. We’re projecting major sales this month, but it all depends on how we get our ads out there to the key demographics.” I keep my chin down, my eyes focused on the white-triangle print of my navy blue dress. Sweat dampens the fabric, making it stick to my skin. What happened to the air conditioning? I purposefully look at my colleagues instead of my boss, Vivian, who is all dark hair and good skin. Seriously, in her mid-forties, she’s more gorgeous than ever. She nods along as Nathan speaks. Be like Vivian. Do your job. The thing is, I’m trying to earn my stripes here at Cutler-Stewart, a mid-size advertising company. At thirty, I’m the junior member of the marketing team, and a lot of the time, I feel as if some of the more seasoned employees are sizing me up, figuring out whether I’ll sink or swim. Chet scoffs at something Nathan says, and it pulls me back to reality. Whether the sound is intentional or not, it’s hard to tell. I sense Nathan’s spine straightening and his cobalt-blue eyes darkening into storm clouds. A ripple of tension slips across his jawline. “Is there some insight you’d like to add to the group?” Nathan asks Chet. Janine’s mouth makes an O. So much tension has been building between Chet and Nathan, and now, in this cheap room in a cheap hotel two hours outside Chicago, it ripples to the surface. But Chet is never ruffled or embarrassed. He shrugs. “No. Carry on.” Then he grins and adds, “Boss.” Nathan is our team leader. He organized the retreat. Considering the tension within the team, he thought it would be a good idea for us to get out of the office. But seriously, did he have to bring us to this bumfuck town in the middle of nowhere? I don’t think I’ve seen a single stop light here. “Well, thank you, Chet. I will.” We all cringe now. I pick up a pen and tap it lightly against the polished mahogany table. Even though I am relatively new to the game, I’ve heard whispers that Chet is prepared to steal Nathan’s job out from under him. The atmosphere thickens, and the two men stare at each other as if wanting to put the other in checkmate. My stupid lizard brain turns this red flag into a green one. I can’t help but think Nathan is hot when he’s mad about something. Anger suits him. He’s forty-five, but he could pass for thirty-five. He already looks like an Abercrombie & Fitch model, and the temper gives him an edge. He’s clean-shaven and tall, with impeccable jet-black hair slicked into a neat side part. Chet’s smile is snide as he shakes his head and wipes his mouth with a handkerchief that he plucked from the breast pocket of his expensive black suit. He has a mop of wavy chestnut hair. Nathan cuts him a dubious glance but continues. He reaches for his own water glass, his hands once again brushing mine, making my skin tingle. I examine the documents in front of me, determined to focus on the tasks at hand, but it’s going to be a major challenge to keep it together. * * * My mom died several weeks ago. Since then, I’ve been aware of this gaping hole that never existed before. The world is off-kilter, and the only way I can right it again is to fill the hollowness inside. Before Mom died, I knew I liked Nathan, but I wasn’t obsessed like I am now. I crave him, hoping that being with someone I really like will fill the abyss. I want to stop thinking about death. I need to feel alive again and forget about the disease that took her away. After the meeting, Nathan takes us all to the hotel bar to chill. It’s obvious he feels guilty about snapping at Chet. Personally, I think Chet’s sucky attitude is his own problem. The neon sign on the adjacent wall glows brightly. Blue and yellow light dances across the surface of the bar. I order a martini and consider downing it. Vivian perches like a parrot on her stool, her shoulders stiff. I try to think of how to carry on a conversation with her without it