Chapter 1: Dick Pic Gate
Chapter Text
Three taps on his phone screen. That’s all it’s took for Roman Roy to make perhaps the most ridiculous fuck-up in his almost forty years on this planet. Too distracted as always to pay attention to the finer details of his phone screen.
Why had he put her name on the fucking text?
He could’ve put the Roy genes to good use and lied through his teeth if he had just left her name off the text. Could’ve said it was for Tabitha or any other woman on the planet other than Geraldine Kellman.
His father looked at him across the table as though he’d suddenly sprouted a second - maybe even a third - head on his shoulders. It’s a fight or flight response. Roman remembered reading about it once - an automatic response in the face of danger.
His lips moved and the words were out of his mouth before he even realised.
“Well you see, here’s the thing Dad - Gerri and I have been dating,” Roman announced, the words came out more confident than he thought they would. Perhaps all those years of being a cocky idiot were coming in clutch now.
“You’ve been WHAT ?” Logan asked, as though about to choke on his own venom, his eyes bulged in his head as he sat up on his seat. His rising blood pressure was evident by the scarlet hues on his cheeks.
Roman leaned back on his chair and folded his arms as if he’s eighteen again, sulking after getting caught drinking his way through Logan’s prized whisky collection. “For a few months now,” he added, knowing that technically they had been doing whatever it was they were doing for a few months now. If Gerri had taught him anything it was the power of arguing a technicality.
“Are you being serious? Son, you’re taking the piss, I know you are,” Logan insisted as he shook his head and smirked at Roman. Trust his son to pull his leg about something like this. Logan had never tried to understand him, but this read as just some twisted game - Roman trying to get a leg up over Gerri - figuratively, not literally.
But Roman simply shrugged his shoulders, his mind having gone back to the rush of adrenaline he experienced when he sent Gerri the first ‘item’. He had tapped his fingers impatiently against the phone until the little text that said ‘delivered’ changed to ‘read’. For five and a half minutes his heart had practically stopped until the little grey bubble floated up, the dots showing that Gerri was on the other line, until her message flashed on his screen.
So it works.
That’s all she had said but it was enough. Until she growled at him in the elevator the next morning about the risk of sending something like that to her phone. Gerri had warned him of the dangers - FOIs and data breaches - and how nothing that was written down was ever private for long.
He should have listened to her. If the last year had taught him anything, it was that Gerri Kellman was always right.
Logan was on his feet and at the door before Roman could stop him. He pulled the handle with enough force that Roman wondered for a second if it would fall off its hinges. “GERRI! WHERE ARE YOU GERRI?” Logan bellowed, his voice echoed down the hallway to where Gerri was standing in the conference room.
Gerri’s blood ran cold. What the fuck had Roman done now?
The walk down the hallway took both forever and no time at all. Gerri’s heels echoed into the room before she appeared at the door wearing what Roman knew was her poker face. She shuffled into the room like the goodie two-shoes student who had been summoned to the headmaster’s office. The gears turned in her head as she tried to assess the situation. Logan was pacing the floor with his phone in his hand, while his son was off at the other side near the door.
Something in Roman’s eyes told Gerri this was serious. She was getting dragged into the middle of something Roman had done. Could she really trust him to not drown her under whatever pile of shit he had landed himself in?
“Is it true? You’re dating my son?” Logan shouted across the room, unable to look her in the eye as his grip tightened around his phone.
Gerri’s breath got caught in her throat. She was going crazy - the heat stroke had finally gotten to her. There was no way that Logan Roy had just asked if she was dating his son.
Unless….
Roman looked at her with pleading eyes, the sort that set off something deep within her. The part of her that always wanted to be the one to reach out to him - to give him a safe harbour to rest his head. But her head always over-ruled her heart. It would always win in the end.
Something had happened to back Roman into a corner like a dog whimpering at its master for fear of getting a boot to the head.
“Yes, Logan, it’s true,” Gerri lied in a steady voice, suspecting the words would quickly come back to haunt her. Perhaps she could ask her daughters to put ‘killed by Roman Roy’s stupidity’ as the epitaph on her gravestone because Logan looked as though he was ready to slice her up and serve her like a headless swan. The centrepiece at his next gluttonous feast.
“So this is a serious thing then? Not just some office fling,” Logan questioned, eyes glared at the couple across from him, but he still couldn’t meet her eyes. Gerri takes one step forward as Roman shuffles back a little, the pair met each other half-way.
The fight or flight response kicked in once more.
“Deadly serious,” Gerri and Roman replied in unison before they stopped to glance at each other out of the corner of their eyes. The synchronicity of their movements threw Logan off for a moment and Gerri watched as he fidgeted with his cufflinks. It was one of Logan’s tells. A sign he didn’t feel in control.
“Both of you get out of my sight,” he barked, sending both Roman and Gerri making a quick exit out the door. Roman held the metal door open as he chanced one final glance back at Logan as Gerri power-walked back up the hallway.
“SIOBHAN!” Logan shouted down the hallway as Roman and Gerri returned to the conference room.
Shiv clocked the two of them coming back in. She couldn’t think of the last time she had seen Gerri look on edge. Roman was pouring himself a glass of water while Gerri crossed her arms and paced around in front of the tall windows, biting her lip as she glanced at the other Waystar employees still hanging around the room.
She turned on her heel as she headed down the hallway, finding her father in a worse state than the other pair. “What’s up?” Shiv asked, trying to get a read on the situation. “You find out what the fuck is happening with those two, Siobhan,” Logan ordered, looking as though he might just burst a blood vessel. “What do you mean?” Shiv questioned, not appreciating feeling out of the loop.
“Your brother and your godmother are apparently - and I quote - “dating ” and have been for some time now,” Logan revealed, his attempt at air-quotes almost sending Shiv overboard as her mind took a second or two longer to process his words.
Shiv snorted. Yeah, right. Gerri and Roman - as if anyone would believe that. The man-child who couldn’t get it up and the corporate lawyer with a stick up her ass. Waystar’s most-unlikely Romeo and Juliet.
And her father believed it? Men really were idiots.
“How did you find this out?” Shiv asked, still laughing to herself as she tried and failed at composing herself. Logan’s phone flew across the table, landing on the other end with a thud. Shiv turned away as she realised what was looking up at her from Logan’s phone screen.
Seeing one of her brother’s dick pics was not on her to-do list for today.
“Right, well, that says something,” Shiv choked as she pushed the phone back up the table towards her father. Alarm bells started to go off in the back of her mind - as if she could feel something shifting in the air.
Could Roman and Gerri be dating? The rational part of her brain was finally starting to kick in.
“Did anyone know about this?” Logan demanded, his patience already running thin as he pocketed his phone. “Roman has always had a thing about Gerri - but no one ever…” Shiv paused as it all came rushing back to her.
She had always thought that Gerri was just another one of Roman’s fixations. Someone he knew he could taunt and tease - a plaything with a wittier mind and quicker tongue than any of the women Roman Roy would normally follow around like a lost puppy. He always grew tired of them eventually. An impatient child looking for the latest shiny toy to own. It was one of the few similarities Roman shared with their father.
But if she thought about it - really thought about it - she could see it now. All those times she had just shrugged it off. Told herself she was reading into things that weren’t there. Shiv had put her feelings down to paranoia over the fact Gerri was clearly helping Roman professionally - but maybe that only had been a small part of it.
How many times had she caught Roman staring at Gerri when he thought no one was looking? Hiding a smirk behind his hand or looking at her as though they were the only two people in the room. More than once Shiv had felt as if she was intruding on something.
Seeing Roman and Gerri together was normal. No one ever batted an eyelid at them. They were practically attached at the hip at times. One always behind the other, standing in the other’s shadow, as though guarding their territory.
The late nights in the office. The dinners and martini catch-ups that were supposedly all about business. Shiv had even caught them coming out of the same hotel room back in Dundee.
And the nicknames.
G, Ger, Gerri-Berry, Ger-Bear.
G-Spot. That one should’ve set alarm bells ringing.
God. They had all been blind, hadn’t they? Blind to what was happening right under their noses.
“Fuck,” Shiv hissed, her head in her hands for a moment as she tried to process everything that had just happened in the last sixty seconds. Gerri and Roman. Somehow in this fucked up world it made sense. And they didn’t just make sense, they posed a threat.
A solution that could keep Waystar in Roy hands but with the credibility of someone like Gerri.
“You find a way to do something about this, Siobhan,” Logan instructed, yanking his blazer from the back of the chair before he disappeared out the door and down the hallway.
Shiv took a moment to get her thoughts together - or at least try to. The last of the other Waystar employees was stepping out into the hallway when she got to the door, catching Roman edging closer to Gerri as he crossed the room towards her with an anxious look on his face. “Gerri, can I just grab you for a minute?” she called, watching as her brother’s face dropped and Gerri waited a beat before nodding her head.
Gerri glanced at Roman as she headed out of the room, hands clutching the strap of her bag as though it was her emotional support crutch. Her hands tightened around the strap as if she was strangling Roman’s neck. She had a good mind to do just that when she got her hands on him.
Something had happened - she just didn’t know what . They hadn’t had a chance to discuss anything yet. There was no privacy here, especially not with Shiv and the other employees hanging around.
The Roman of six months ago would’ve done this as a prank to Logan - but Roman now ? He wouldn’t risk her neck, let alone his own, unless there was a reason for it. Why would he have told his father that they were dating? What possible reason could he have had for doing that? Unless Logan had asked him if they were - but she had always been careful when he was around. She made sure to push Roman forward just enough without giving Logan any reason to be suspicious about her actions.
“You have reported your relationship to HR, haven’t you?” Shiv asked, almost giving Gerri whiplash as they reach a quiet corner of the open-planned office. Gerri’s hand tightened around the strap of her bag - oh, if only it was Roman’s neck between her fingers and not the saffiano leather.
“I mean it would just be seen as a bit of an issue if the Interim CEO is in a relationship with the COO. You know ‘ conflict of interest’ and all that,” Shiv added, straightening her back as she tried to gauge the other woman’s reaction. The first thing she had to do was figure out how long this had been going on for - and then she had to figure out what it meant for the rest of them.
Gerri was expendable. Roman wasn’t polished enough. Roman and Gerri together, though? That was a threat. Roman had the right name. Gerri had the right nature for the top job. What was it she had heard Roman call them once?
Rockstar and the Molewoman.
Gerri raised an eyebrow. ‘ Conflict of interest’ could hardly apply in a company where having the surname ‘ Roy’ qualified you for any C-suite position you took a fancy to.
“Naturally, but we just want to keep things private for a while, you know how it is when people are all up in your personal life,” Gerri assured her, already growing suspicious about Shiv’s actions. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Shiv was her father’s sniffer dog. She always had been, ever since she was a little girl who used to eavesdrop on guests at dinner parties and report the gossip back to Logan.
She caught sight of Roman heading into the elevator with two of the other employees at the end of the hallway.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a call to make,” Gerri lied, side-stepping around her goddaughter as her Ferragamo heels clicked down the hallway. She managed to get herself into the elevator and press the button for the doors to close before the redhead could follow her inside.
Roman Roy was going to be the death of her - or she was going to be the death of him.
The humidity hit her as she stepped out of the office building, catching sight of the line of blacked-out Mercedes A-Class saloons lined up against the pavement. The rest of their group was huddled in a circle, seemingly waiting on her and Shiv to come down.
“Ger, you get in with me,” Roman called, taking wide strides towards her until his hand was locked around her arm. He pulled her in the direction of the car waiting at the front of the queue, hoping it could double as a getaway car. Gerri glared at him as he opened the door for her before he walked around to the other side.
“What the fuck did you say to him?” Gerri snapped as Roman’s door clicked shut and she turned to look at him. “It just came out,” Roman protested, reaching through to take one of the chilled waters from the central compartment before their driver pulled away. Thankfully it was a hired chauffeur who seemed more interested in listening to the radio than eavesdropping on them.
“And why did it come out? What did you do?” Gerri interrogated, dropping her bag down to the floor as she waited impatiently for Roman to explain himself. He looked out the window for a minute, contemplating whether he’d have enough time to draw up his will before Gerri would kill him.
“I might have been sending you one of those ‘items’ that you told me to stop sending after you texted me at the end of the meeting,” Roman confessed, turning back to Gerri in time to see the realisation set in. “Oh, Roman,” she sighed, her head falling into her hands, her immaculate french twist starting to come undone. “And I might have sent it to dad by mistake,” he added, practically seeing the steam starting to come out of Gerri’s ears.
“So you decided to just play it off by saying we’re dating,” Gerri huffed, leaning into her seat, feeling her back sink into the leather behind her as her shoulders tensed. “Well, it seemed like the best option going at the time,” Roman stood firm, though a part of him wondered if it had only made the whole thing worse.
He had thought that telling Logan they were a couple would give them some cover. His dad would make some joke about his dick finally working and – well, he hadn’t thought beyond that.
Gerri tilted her head down as she looked at Roman over the rim of her glasses. “Stop looking at me with those eyes,” Roman whined, knowing it was the last thing he needed at that moment. “What eyes?” Gerri asked, already at her wits’ end with him and aching for a martini to soften the blow that had been the last fifteen minutes of her life. “You do that thing with your eyes when you’re pissed at me,” he explained, wagging his finger in her face as he spoke, before he looked away, “It’s hot and I can’t concentrate when you do it.”
She narrowed her eyes once more before pushing her glasses back up her nose.
“We need Karolina,” Gerri decided. She knew if there is anyone they needed on their side it’s the PR executive. “Do you trust her?” Roman asked, having realised that it was time to learn his lesson and accept Gerri’s judgement as being the right one.
“Well, I don’t know who else we can trust given that you’ve just told your father we’re in a relationship,” she reminded him, still trying to process the situation they had somehow found themselves in. All because Roman had to send her yet another photo of his dick. As if she didn’t already have a hidden folder of them stashed away on her phone. It was always going to be something stupid like this that would catch them out. An unfortunate mishap that could have been easily avoided if Roman had just listened to her.
Gerri knew Logan would be waiting to catch them out. His reaction in the meeting room had told her more than enough. Her and Roman being in a relationship - even the idea of them being together - was a bolt from the blue that could threaten to unravel his plans. An interim CEO and COO who could pose a challenge to him. Not that Roman was considering the optics when he lied to his father.
“Look, we just keep up the pretence for a few weeks until the dust settles and I’ll have some kind of a fuck up that gives you an excuse to break up with me,” Roman shrugged, having already decided that he would find a way out of this scenario that made him look like the bad guy. “Everyone will be all like “poor Gerri, Roman’s a bastard,” and that’ll be that,” he added, taking a swig of his water.
Gerri sighed as she felt a tension headache starting to form, her fingertips pressing against her skin as she tried to keep the pain at bay. “It’s not that simple, Roman. You’ve pissed Shiv off with this charade already, she was asking me if we put in the paperwork with HR,” she divulged, the memory of Shiv’s judgmental face setting her teeth on edge.
“Can you back-date the paperwork with HR?” Roman asked, once again cursing himself for being the sort of man who let his dick do the thinking. But perhaps this wouldn’t be all bad. There had to be an upside to the situation. Though pretending to be dating Gerri Kellman would probably be as much torture as it would be pleasurable.
“I’ll see if I can get Karolina to help, Lucy in HR owes her a favour,” Gerri suggested, already typing an SOS text message to the PR executive, telling her to call her ASAP. Her tone told Roman there was more to Karolina’s relationship with Lucy from HR than being mere office acquaintances. He’d file that away for later.
“But this charade can’t go on for long, Roman, just enough time to get us out of this god forsaken mess that you’ve dropped us in,” she insisted, knowing the reality of it all hadn’t fully set in yet. Half the executive floor would know before they’d get back to the villa. Shiv would see to that.
“You want to put - what - a fucking expiry date on this?” Roman asked, turning away from her as he shuffled against the black leather of the Mercedes’ seats. Gerri already had her Google calendar open, as though trying to decide how to schedule a fake breakup between her acquisition meetings and manicure appointments. Roman watched as she kept scrolling, feeling as though he was getting a peek into her private life. He quickly noticed that the purple tab was for ‘personal’ things - dinner with her daughter, a friend’s birthday party, and an appointment with her stockbroker.
“The RECNY ball?” she suggested, turning her phone to Roman, her finger pointing at the date six weeks from then. “Right after that, we break up,” she decided, knowing Logan would insist on them both being there either way and the six week window would give them time to navigate the situation and find a golden parachute or two. It would give them plenty of options to play for the evitable break-up. There was always melodrama at the RECNY ball.
“Are you going to send me a calendar invite to the break up?” Roman teased, smirking to himself as he caught the smile that Gerri was trying to fight against. Her life was organised chaos with colour coded Google calendars and a travel bag that was always packed and ready to go. His life was just chaos, but it always felt a little calmer when Gerri was around.
“We’ll figure out the best way for us to break up. Might have Karolina find me feeling up some blonde half your age in a club or something, I don’t know - anything that makes me look like the bad guy. You can take your pick, G,” Roman offered, he was the one who had gotten them into this mess after all.
Gerri didn’t look that convinced.
“It’s for six weeks, Gerri, how bad can it be?” he asked as the chauffeur-driven car left the city behind and headed in the direction of the Tuscan villa. “You get to live out your fantasy of being with a rich toyboy and I get to pretend to be the hot MILF’s boyfriend, sounds like a win-win to me,” Roman mused with a smirk as he decided there might be a silver lining to this after all.
Gerri groaned as she took off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her headache was quickly entering migraine territory.
Maybe Roman was right. It was only six weeks. That’s all she had to do. Just get through the next six weeks without killing the man who was meant to be her boyfriend.
Gerri made a mental note to make sure there was enough in her current account for bail money - just in case.
Chapter 2: All The Bells Say
Notes:
Just a few structural things with this chapter to note. I’ve moved the Monopoly scene from the start of All the Bells Say to the morning of Caroline’s wedding, so that this chapter can be read as happening over the course of one day. Several of these scenes have been plucked from the season 3 finale (and altered accordingly), so I’ve not gone into my usual wordy scene setting as a result of that to save you time reading it and me time writing it. This chapter sets us up for the rest of the fic, as you'll realise while reading! Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos on chapter one, I'm a little blown away by how many people are on board for this trope. 🫶
Chapter Text
Roman paced the floor outside Gerri’s hotel room on the morning of his mother’s wedding, wearing down the soles of his Prada Oxfords. They had gone their separate ways after getting back from the office the day before. He couldn’t blame Gerri. She had probably gone off to stick little needles into a voodoo doll of him. Perhaps that was why he felt so anxious about the idea of today.
It wasn’t just the fact his mother was marrying a good-for-nothing social climber making his money by robbing the elderly with so-called “independent living” centres, but the idea of having to pretend to be Gerri’s boyfriend.
Sure, he had fantasised about it more than once. Imagined what it would be like to turn over in the morning to be met by the sight of her blonde hair sprawled across his pillow. Pictured walking up to her in some dimly-lit Manhattan bar, taking her martini out of her hand and kissing her for everyone to see. Thought of what it would be like to be able to touch her without caring who was around, just to be able to reach out and put his hand on her arm and know she was there next to him.
The door finally opened and Gerri brought him back to reality. The silk dress was deeper than an emerald but not a forest green, as if the hue was chosen to compliment the porcelain of her skin. Had she chosen the dress because it brought out the green in her eyes or because of how the draping of the fabric pulled at the curve of her waist?
“You’re staring again, Roman,” Gerri announced, her wide brim hat in one hand and her clutch bag in the other. “Can’t a guy stare at his fake girlfriend?” Roman asked, hands buried in his pockets as he gave Gerri his best elevator eyes. “Well, you look… presentable, I suppose,” she said, throwing him a bone as she glanced over at him before Roman led the way towards the staircase.
Roman smirked to himself. His salmon pink shirt at least complemented her dress, but he would have rather been wearing something that matched. It always gave him a little thrill when they turned up somewhere in the same colour palette - as if she had stood in front of his closet that morning and looked through the rails of Ralph Lauren and Brunello Cucinelli shirts to find just the right one to go with her outfit.
“I told the sibs we’d join them for breakfast, Connor wants to play monopoly or some shit,” Roman announced as he fell into step beside Gerri as they walked across the estate. “Rich people playing with pretend money, what will you think of next?” she joked, fixing her sun hat onto her head as she said a silent prayer that there would be strong - triple espresso strength - coffee waiting at breakfast. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking about, G-Spot,” Roman promised her, dodging her clutch bag as she reached out to hit his shoulder. “Behave you,” Gerri scolded him, tongue in the side of her cheek as she tried to shake off the smile that threatened to play on her lips.
The occupants of the outdoor dining table watched them arrive, a mixture of amused grins and judgemental gazes. Roman and Gerri had been the last to arrive.
Connor jumped up from his chair to give her a hug with all the enthusiasm of a little boy on Christmas Day. Gerri froze, eyes wide as she looked at Roman over the other man’s shoulder. Her arms were pressed against his chest as he hugged her and Gerri wondered for a second if he was going to try and pick her up for a bear hug. “Alright, Jesus, that’s enough Gerri time, six feet back please,” Roman protested as he stepped forward to separate his older brother from Gerri.
“Well look at you two, getting it on behind everyone’s back,” Tom laughed, raising his coffee mug towards the pair in a mock cheer as Roman held Gerri’s seat out for her before taking the empty one next to her. “Where’s your shadow at, Tom?” Gerri bit back, leaning into her seat as she switched out to her sunglasses while Tom squirmed in his seat at the obvious allusion to Greg. Roman smirked to himself as he picked up the coffee pot and prepared a mug. Coffee with one sugar and a splash of milk - no more, no less. Just how Gerri took her first coffee of the morning.
Shiv narrowed her eyes as she watched Roman pass the mug over to Gerri as if it was a part of their morning routine. She wanted to go back and slap herself from six months ago for not noticing the signs earlier.
“You know, I had a feeling there was something between you two,” Connor announced, smiling to himself as he handed the tray of pastries over to Roman after he finished pouring his own coffee. “You have a synergy,” Willa added, sipping on her herbal tea from the seat on the other side of Gerri. The blonde fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist before leaning closer to the older woman, tapping her on the arm to get her attention.
“You know, we’ve never really talked much, but if you ever want a sympathetic ear,” Willa offered, shrugging her shoulders as the side of her lips twitched into a smile, “I know a little about what it’s like to, I guess, date someone in this fucked up family.”
Gerri had always felt sorry for Willa, but it seemed she might have the makings of an unlikely ally in her - at least for the next six weeks. Perhaps the girl could use a friend as much as she could. “Let's grab a drink at some stage, Willa, after the wedding,” she suggested with a smile, adjusting her sun hat to get a better look at the wannabe playwright. “You know, I’d really like that,” Willa beamed, squeezing Gerri’s arm before Connor and Tom started to set up the Monopoly game.
Roman had ended up in jail. Tom went broke. Connor ended up declaring his own Republic. Willa gave up mid-way through to scroll through her Instagram feed. Shiv lost her cool and shouted at Roman for ‘cheating’ by borrowing some of Gerri’s cards. And Gerri had been the sure shot for being the last player standing until a familiar voice brought a premature end to the game.
Logan appeared from beyond the pool, his voice raised as he started to go on about the speculation about the DOJ fine and GoJo’s market cap. “I’m going to conference call Matsson inside but I need to go back to the villa before the ceremony, I’ll probably miss it, not that Caroline will be surprised,” Logan announced, the pieces already starting to fall into place.
“Do you want us to come with you for the call, Dad?” Roman suggested, already on his feet as Gerri stood up beside him. Shiv threw down her Monopoly cards as Tom shuffled awkwardly in his seat, both felt like spare parts.
“Alright then, maybe the Swede will respond to the lovebirds chirping in his fucking ear,” Logan growled before waving for them to follow him. Shiv watched as Roman and Gerri trailed up the stairs after Logan like a Crown Prince and his Consort.
This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.
Roman and Gerri waved Logan off after the conference call before making their way towards the ceremony venue at the other side of the villa. “Are you getting the vibe that something’s up?” Roman asked, his arm bumping into Gerri’s as they walked side by side. “I thought it was just me. Your father’s definitely up to something. I don’t know what it is yet,” she mused with a pursing of her lips. Matsson had been even more relaxed than usual on the conference call and Logan looked as though he was lining up pieces on a chessboard.
Logan was about to do something irrational. Gerri could practically feel it in her bones.
“Well, hello you two.”
Caroline’s voice caused Gerri to jump a little, tightening the hold on her clutch bag as Roman turned on his heel to face his mother. She was exactly who Gerri was hoping to avoid. Caroline had a sixth sense for gossip, but also an uncanny ability to sniff out a lie as though she was a prized bloodhound. They’d have to pull a Houdini to fool her.
“So the bride hasn’t run away yet, there’s still time to call you a getaway car, Mother,” Roman joked as he linked his arm around Gerri’s shoulder, hand gripping at the silk of her dress. Gotta lay it on thick - after all, Caroline clearly had heard the ‘news’ about him and Gerri.
But fuck, she was wearing that perfume again. The one he knew she liked to spritz in the evening and on special occasions. It was deeper than the light floral scent she usually wore to the office. He had spotted it when he was poking around her hotel room in Dundee - the Guerlain bottle sitting amongst her skincare. It had a herbal bitterness that was hidden away under the sweetness of vanilla, both innocent and sensual all at once. Gerri Kellman to a T.
Gerri forced her lips into a smile as she tried not to dwell on how Roman was holding her in perhaps the most awkward pose known to man. It was the same shoulder death grip she had seen Tom do with Shiv on countless occasions.
“Shiv told me, who would have thought?” Caroline revealed, leaning forward towards the couple as if indulging in a dark secret. “How have you been?” she asked, eyes flicking between the couple as Gerri twisted her fingers to stop herself from picking at her nail polish. Caroline had believed the lie and was eating up any crumbs of gossip she could use as currency with her guests and other children, perhaps even her ex-husband. “Oh you know, we’re doing great, the wonders of living in sin and all that,” Roman answered, the white lie coming out like a well-aged whisky that would put even the most uptight Roy at ease.
Gerri had just enough Catholic guilt left in her to cringe a little at that particular choice of wording in front of consecrated ground - but she supposed their - now numerous - phone conversations had been a particular sort of lustful sin in itself.
“You’ll have to sit together at the front, of course, unless you think that might be outing you to everyone,” Caroline laughed, eyes lingering at Roman’s hand on Gerri’s shoulder for a moment, “Though I think Shiv has seen to it that at least half the guests already know.” Gerri followed Caroline’s finger to where she was pointing over at the redhead mingling with guests, a scornful look on her face as if she had just swallowed a bitter pill.
Shiv was going to be a problem.
“Oh gosh, I better go and save Peter from Aunt Mildred,” Caroline sighed when she spotted that her husband-to-be had been cornered by her elderly aunt, “I’ll see you both inside.”
Gerri shrugged Roman’s hand off her shoulder once Caroline was out of sight. “Roman, you need to relax,” she scolded him as she switched out her sunglasses for her normal ones, “No one is going to believe we’re actually a couple if you’re walking on eggshells around me.” He looked as anxious as a teenager on a first date rather than an almost forty-year old with his partner.
“Well, what am I meant to do with my hands?” Roman groaned, having held Gerri by the shoulder for fear of letting his hand go any lower. They didn’t touch. It was an unwritten rule of theirs and one that only served to make the tension even worse now - to go from having Gerri as something he could only worship from afar to suddenly being expected to hold her the way someone would do with the person who shared their bed multiple times a week.
Gerri rolled her eyes as she reached between them, taking his hand and bringing it to the curve of her waist, holding it there, her hand locking his against her body. “See there, that’s where you hold the woman you’re supposedly sleeping with,” she told him, eyes locked with his as she dropped her hand, but his stayed put.
Roman’s grip tightened a little, just enough to be noticed, a little squeeze, as though adjusting to the feeling of her body under his hand. “And what do I do with the woman I’m supposedly sleeping with during a wedding ceremony?” he asked in a breathy voice, holding her gaze as if daring her to be the one to make the first move. This was different - being able to touch her like this, having to touch her like this for the sake of their game of make believe.
It was going to be the death of him. He could picture it. The words “killed by the adrenaline of touching Gerri Kellman going straight to his heart” in his New York Times obituary.
“Keep your hands to yourself and don’t start trying to play footsie with me in front of the priest,” Gerri warned, tucking her clutch under her arm as she straightened her back. “Is that a challenge, Kellman?” Roman smirked, his hand moving from the curve of her waist to the small of her back as the other guests started to head inside. Gerri rolled her eyes as she let Roman lead her into the little church, filing past Connor and Willa, who sent her a sympathetic look, as they made their way up to the front row.
The wedding had been a relatively uneventful affair. Tom had played the role of Switzerland by sitting himself between Shiv and Gerri with Roman on her other side. He had joked about feeling like a U.S. Ambassador during the Cold War, but his comment had fallen flat as Shiv slipped out of the little church and Gerri’s lips pulled into a thin smile. “I need a drink,” she told Roman, before they made their getaway, managing to avoid Peter and Caroline as they hugged the exiting guests.
“Does the lady want her usual?” Roman inquired in his best attempt at Peter’s accent, his voice going up a few octaves, as they headed towards the tables that had been set up in the main garden, several little bars stationed throughout. “Do you even have to ask?” Gerri raised an eyebrow, stopping at one of the empty tables while Roman trailed on ahead with a mission to find Belvedere for her vodka martini.
It had taken ten minutes and three goes for the waiter to make a vodka martini that looked at least presentable enough for him to offer to Gerri. Roman wondered if perhaps it would just be easier for him to learn how to make it just the way she liked it. He had two martinis in hand when Kerry appeared as a flash of pink across the garden, sticking out amongst the neutral colour palettes of the other guests. She leaned into Gerri’s ear, whispering something before the blonde gathered up her phone and clutch bag and set off in the direction of the main house.
“Oi, Gerri!” Roman called, but Gerri’s retreating back was already out of his line of sight. He had that uneasy feeling again, like the Earth was going a little off its axis, just enough to set everything off its natural course.
“Oh, is Romey all upset because he’s lost his mommy?” Shiv taunted as she appeared at Roman’s side, cradling a gin and tonic in her hand. Roman didn’t take the bait as he finally reached the table where Gerri had been sitting, setting down the two martinis, a little of the vodka spilling onto the cotton tablecloth. Kerry kept her focus on the phone in her hand, as though nothing had happened.
“What did you say to Gerri, just now?” Roman demanded, knowing she wouldn’t have left without finding him unless there was an emergency - one that more likely than not involved his father. “I didn’t say anything,” Kerry shrugged with a confidence that told Roman she had been spending too much time around Logan. “Why are you lying?” he asked, the exasperation obvious in his voice as Shiv arrived at the table. “Never had you down for one of those psycho possessive boyfriends, Roman,” Kerry poked, looking unimpressed by his suggestion before she walked away.
It didn’t take Shiv long to start putting two and two together. Roman dug his phone out of his pocket, hitting the first number in the favourites section of his contacts. Gerri’s phone went straight to voicemail. Something was definitely up.
“Where’s your girlfriend at, Rome?” Shiv asked in an accusatory tone as Roman put his phone into his pocket. Gerri would call him if something had happened - if her intuition had been right and Logan was up to something. “Larry Vansitart’s PJ is at Linate, Dad still hasn’t shown up yet, and your interim CEO girlfriend has just run out of here like she’s suddenly on the clock,” Shiv announced as Roman noticed the sweat start to gather on her forehead.
Everything after that went by in a flash.
It wasn’t even an hour later that they found themselves, including Kendall, in the back of a Mercedes van on the way to Logan’s rented villa. Karl and Frank being in Europe, combined with Laird’s information was all they needed to put the puzzle pieces together. Roman tried Gerri’s phone again as Shiv and Kendall started to brainstorm about using the holding company to stop any potential deal. He had tried to plead with them to let him speak to their father first, to set everything straight, but Shiv was having none of it, unimpressed that her brother was sitting on the fence. Gerri’s phone was still going straight to voicemail.
Roman opened his iPhone, scrolling over to the ‘Find my iPhone’ app. He watched as the little blue dot appeared on the screen. Gerri had shared her iPhone location with him back in Japan when he had gone out for sushi takeout and got lost on the way back. She had never remembered to turn it off and he had gotten into the habit of checking it every once in a while. Usually when he was wondering what she was doing or late at night when he wanted to make sure she had got home safe. His own little blue dot moved closer to hers as the Mercedes Vito Tourer Van sped through the Tuscan countryside towards the villa Logan had hired for the week. His sister had been right.
Shiv filled Tom in about their plan over the phone and Roman opened his text thread with Gerri. He only typed a few lines, enough to stop her being blindsided by what would happen next. Gerri replied with a thumbs up as the car rolled up the driveway, their two little blue dots almost overlapped each other now on his screen.
Gerri was the first thing he saw when he walked into the room, sitting alone on one side of the sofa with her oversized tote bag pressed against her side like a shield. His eyes met hers across the room, a silent conversation out of Logan’s view as Gerri nodded her head and Roman breathed a little easier.
Gerri’s attention went back to Logan as she tried to figure out their next play. One wrong move and he would wipe them off the chessboard - let the pieces shatter to the ground as if they were nothing more than collateral damage. Logan Roy would never be a casualty of war. He had an entire executive floor to act as his sword and shield with nothing stopping him from throwing his children overboard in the name of self-preservation.
Shiv questioned him about the deal and Logan shook his head. “Look at you, the three little piggies. Come in, take a seat,” he ordered, though Shiv and Kendall stayed put as Roman shuffled a little in Gerri’s direction, but he didn’t take the empty seat next to her. The guard dog once again in the shadows.
There was a back and forth about whether Kendall could be there before Roman stepped in, “Let’s just all hear it, Dad,” he suggested, knowing it would be easier to rip the bandage off and examine the damage than to let it just trickle down.
The news of the merger hit Shiv as if a bucket of old seawater had been dumped on her head. She had always been her father’s daughter with self-preservation being top of the agenda as she started to argue about who would end up on top.
“And what are we supposed to do?” Kendall demanded, sensing the promise made to him as a little boy in that ice cream slipping through his fingers. “Make your own fucking pile,” Logan announced, glaring at his eldest and youngest children before turning his attention to his middle child. “Matsson rates you, you have my word, this is an opportunity, Roman,” he assured the younger man as the chessboard turned once more. Roman and Logan were standing in the middle of the room, Shiv on one side and Gerri seated on the other.
“You can’t trust him,” Shiv snarled, eyes fixed on her father as Gerri decided whether to roll the hard six. There was always the fear of being the sacrificial lamb. She wasn’t a Roy. She was expendable. But this facade had changed the game. She and Roman were stronger as a pair, her credibility and his name would give them better ground to stand on than the others in the room - perhaps even Logan himself. The penny dropped. There was a third option. The plan that had been there all along - the rockstar and the molewoman.
“Logan, I think you should hear them out,” Gerri suggested as she stood from the sofa, her legal pad tucked under her arm as she put the lid back on her pen, “Try to get everyone onto the same page.” Roman edged a little closer to her, the Bishop ready to stand guard on the chessboard. Logan caught him moving out of the corner of his eye, “Go and hide behind Gerri’s skirt, why don’t you?” he ridiculed Roman, showing his teeth as he crossed the room towards the couple. “It works, Roman. I win. I fucking win,” Logan told him and Gerri gripped her legal pad a little tighter to stop herself from reaching out for Roman. “We could all win,” he added, eyes flickering from Roman to Gerri as if he wasn’t about to offer them up a poison chalice.
Gerri’s mouth opened but Shiv shouted louder, “We can stop you. We will stop you. You need our vote for a change of control,” she threatened, but Gerri knew the game was already up. Logan turned back towards his daughter as Roman took another step to Gerri, who shook her head to tell him to stand down. There was no point in him getting caught up in the crossfires.
Logan and Shiv fought back and forth until the bombshell was dropped when Kerry appeared with Caroline on the phone. “Mom, you just slit our throats,” Shiv choked as Roman’s eyes widened as he looked down at the phone where his mother’s voice was coming from. Someone had gotten to Logan first. There hadn’t even been any whispers about reopening the divorce agreement again.
Gerri wouldn’t have snitched, would she? But she hadn’t been the only one who had known about the plan.
“This works. I fucking win. Come on, fuck off out, you noisy fucking pedestrians!” Logan bellowed as he stepped around Shiv and Kendall to leave the room and the carnage behind him. Kendall dropped himself down onto the sofa next to Frank as Shiv’s eyes found their next target.
Roman and Gerri stood next to the sofa, watching Logan leave as the balance of power shifted once more.
“Is this a fucking move by you two?” Shiv growled, “You told her, didn’t you? That’s how Dad knew about our plan with the holding company,” she accused, angry eyes turning redder as the tears threatened to pierce the side of her eyelids and break through. “I never said anything to Logan,” Gerri insisted, watching as Shiv put her hands on her hips as she started to pace.
“Oh but Matsson gets his dream fucking ticket with you two, doesn’t he?” Shiv cited as though it was evidence against the pair. Her worst fear was starting to come true in little more than 24 hours. “She’s only sleeping with you to get a leg up, Roman, you know that right?” she poked, more convinced now than before that the lie was true. It was the only thing that made sense in all this madness, “You’re her Prince or whatever bullshit bedtime story she tells you to help you get it up.”
“Don’t fucking talk about her like that, Siobhan,” he yelled, Kendall stepped between them as Roman lunged towards Shiv as though he was going to pull her hair like he used to when they were little kids and she would steal his action figures and rip off their heads.
Gerri put her hand out to grab Roman by the arm, nails digging into the cotton blend of his shirt sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. “Roman, let’s go,” she pleaded, trying to make it sound more like a command than an attempt to stop him from doing something stupid. He had certainly played the role of the defensive boyfriend well - perhaps a little too well.
They walked out to the covered passage that connected the two wings of the villa in time to see Logan stop to greet Tom as the man arrived. Gerri shook her head as she put the final piece of the puzzle together. Logan had known about the hold company within a few minutes of Roman texting her the siblings' plan - and now she was confident she knew the source of that information.
“I’m sorry, Ger, I’m sorry,” Roman repeated, hands on his hips as he walked back and forth. “Look, just take a minute, catch your breath, you’re okay,” Gerri encouraged, though she knew there wasn’t much she could do to help at that moment. Logan had stabbed his child in the front, not giving them the courtesy of doing it in the shadows. Shiv and Kendall were out, but the same wasn’t necessarily true for the middle of the Roy siblings. The work they had done over the last six months had put Roman at the top of the pile, positioning him as an unexpectedly safe pair of hands that could perform under pressure.
Roman moved away from the line of sight of the door, where Shiv and Tom now stood, and walked to the short wall, just a few bricks high, that divided the walkway between the two buildings from the small rose garden. “I can’t…I just can’t wrap my fucking head around this, Ger,” he muttered with a shake of his head.
“Rome, would it have even worked?” Gerri sighed, pausing as one of the assistants appeared with her bag and legal pad, handing them both over to her before making a quick exit. “Would what have worked?” Roman asked once they were alone again.
“You and your siblings. You’re each other's Achilles heel and I don’t think - even if you wanted to with the best intentions - that you could have stopped your dad,” Gerri reminded him, knowing it was her role to make him see the bigger picture, to help him find where he fitted in.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Roman urged, the little voice in the back of his head told him he was an idiot for even asking - but he had to know. Had to be able to look Shiv in the eye and call her a bitch for even suggesting it in the first place. Gerri wasn’t Tom. She was probably right about Shiv’s plan as well. Trying to work with his siblings would have been like snake linguine. That’s what Gerri had called it once.
“Roman,” Gerri paused before she took a step towards him, closing the distance between them, her voice even as she spoke with a new-found conviction, “It wouldn’t have served our interests if I had told your father about your plan.”
So it was their interests now?
That stirred something in Roman that he hadn’t expected. It could be him. Gerri could get him there - regardless of all this pretence about them dating for the sake of saving their collective necks. The only way either of them had a chance of rising to the top was with the other by their side.
Gerri looked back into the room where Tom stood in front of Shiv, his hand clasped around her shoulder in the same awkward pose she and Roman had done in front of Caroline earlier that day. “We have something going Roman, all this ‘dating’ nonsense aside,” she thought aloud, catching the moment Shiv’s resolve broke as she flinched away from Tom. If anything, the game of the next six weeks could play nicely into her interests. “It could still be you,” she promised him.
The double meaning was clear. It could still be us.
“Rockstar and the molewoman,” Roman puffed, just as enthusiastic as he had been the first time he had tried out the nicknames. But Gerri was right. She was always right. He had learnt that now.
“I think we’re done here for tonight,” Gerri offered, keen to put as much distance between herself and Shiv as possible. “Good, let’s get the hell out of here,” he announced, pushing himself off the wall, keen to get out of Caesar's court. Roman’s hand fell naturally on the small of her back, applying just a little pressure against the silk of her dress as he led her through the villa and towards the waiting car.
The two little blue dots on his phone stared up at him as he got inside, overlapping each other in the same spot.
The car journey back had been spent in relative silence. Roman ignored his phone as Shiv’s name flashed across the screen several times in short succession while Gerri put out as many little fires as she could from her email inbox. It was a comfortable silence though. They were well past the stage where Roman felt as though he had to fill up the air around him with his voice. Gerri was the only person he was okay being in silence with. It meant he had time to notice those little insignificant details that no one else would think twice about - like the stubborn strand at the front of her hair that would never stay behind her ear, no matter how many times she tucked it in.
“I need a - we need a drink,” Gerri announced as they crossed the stone driveway after the car dropped them back at the main villa.
Roman had expected a lecture, perhaps even a shouting matching. Neither came. Instead Gerri signalled for him to follow her with a flick of her wrist and he trailed behind her until they reached one of the bars that were set up outside, a stone’s throw away from where most of the guests were enjoying their late night supper.
Gerri got them to the nearest bar stand, ordering two vodka martinis before banishing her phone to the depths of her clutch bag after turning it on silent. Frank and Karl could do the heavy lifting for one night. “Be a good boy and drink up your martini,” Gerri ordered as she put a vodka martini in Roman’s hand, ensuring not a drop of the rich elixir spilled over the rim. Roman raised an eyebrow and titled his head before clicking his martini glass against hers.
They each took a long sip of their martinis, the vodka drying the back of their throats a little. “What the fuck just happened, Gerri?” Roman questioned, gripping the glass as he tried to block out the other wedding guests milling around the garden. “Logan Roy, that’s what happened,” Gerri reminded him, covering the lipstick stain on her glass as she took another sip. If it wasn’t for the 10am flight back to New York the next morning she’d have had no problem throwing a few of them back - but she knew better than to drink her way through Logan Roy’s chaos.
“I think Shiv and Ken are out,” Roman sighed, a mournful tone in his voice as he contemplated whether the three of them working together would have happened in any lifetime. “I think you’re right,” Gerri agreed, though she couldn’t deny that a part of her was happy about it. She had never seen eye to eye with Kendall - too much the stereotype of the first born son with a silver spoon. Shiv, though, there had been potential there. Potential she could have helped her tap into but her goddaughter had as many of Logan’s bad traits as his good.
“We can work this Roman, all this mess you’ve landed us in,” Gerri decided, flicking her fingers between them to show that the “mess” in question was their supposed relationship status. “In six weeks?” Roman asked, thinking back to the Google calendar invite that Gerri had in fact sent him during their car ride back the day before. “You’re not getting an extension on it, that’s for sure,” Gerri insisted, the evening chill starting to get to her as she cursed herself for not taking her shawl out with her earlier, “I’m going to bed,” she announced, glaring at Roman as he moved forward with all the enthusiasm of someone who thought they were getting something, “ Alone.” Roman dropped his lip like a dog tricked out of a treat as Gerri gathered her bag up with one hand and held her martini with the other.
“Sweet dreams, rockstar,” Gerri called over her shoulder, waving the hand with her martini glass in it back at him as she headed in the direction of the main building where their guest rooms were.
Roman watched as she walked away, hips swaying as she took her time going up the steps - as if she knew he was standing there watching her disappear into the moonlit villa.
It was then that he realised once again that the next six weeks would be nothing short of torture. He was getting just a taste of the forbidden fruit, lips pressed against the shiny apple without ever being allowed to dig his teeth in to savour its juices.
Roman Roy was well and truly fucked.
Chapter 3: Napkin Confessions
Notes:
hello hello! we're now diverting off the canon timeline. I was a little worried that this chapter would be boring but my beta readers have promised me it's not, so hopefully you think the same!
Chapter Text
The Waystar private jet was perhaps one of the few Roy-related extravagances that Gerri didn’t mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she had flown commercial anywhere, even though it was always first class, but nothing quite compared to the comfort of a private plane. They got driven across the tarmac and right up to the aircraft, no waiting around for gates to be called or fighting over luggage space. The air hostesses always greeted them with a smile and a glass of champagne and a fruit basket.
These luxuries made even more of an impact when you were sleep-deprived, stressed, and running a thousand different scenarios across your brain. The migraine Gerri had been nursing was quickly entering ‘grade A’ territory, meaning she’d need to fuel up on as much coffee as she could get her hands on and try to keep her screen time to a minimum. At home she’d have gone and laid in a quiet room in the dark - but that wouldn’t be happening with Roman Roy following her like an overly enthusiastic puppy.
Roman and Gerri had sat themselves in the back compartment of the plane, far enough away from Logan, Kerry, and the handful of executives flying with them to feel like they could breathe a little easier. They had tucked themselves away in a two-by-two configuration of seats that faced each other with a small table in the meeting; a makeshift meeting space that could convert into a dining table during meal services.
“Did you get any sleep?” Gerri asked, wondering how high her blood caffeine level could go before the shakes would start. Today was a day she would only survive with coffee on tap and enough carbs to make her forget about her current predicament. She’d run it all off tomorrow morning at her PT session anyway. “Did you?” Roman returned the question, already knowing how well Gerri was at hiding a restless night’s sleep behind layers of Charlotte Tilbury and La Mer.
He knew it was a stupid question. They had both been up all night staring at their respective ceilings, the moments inside the villa replaying themselves on an endless loop. Roman finished pouring the milk into his coffee before adding a splash - just a splash - of it to Gerri’s mug before they settled down for the first leg of the journey across the Atlantic.
They were flying somewhere over France when Roman looked up from his iPad to find Gerri rummaging through her bag. The tan leather Ralph Lauren tote sat on her lap, an assortment of pouches appearing at the top as she riffled through them for something. Trust Gerri Kellman to treat her handbag like a compartmentalised filing cabinet.
“Is that your emotional support bag or something?” Roman asked, fidgeting on his seat as he contemplated the last time he had seen Gerri - with the exception of when they were at fancy events - without that tote bag by her side. “And what if it is?” Gerri questioned, having an aha moment when she found the L’Occitane cream she was looking for.
“Like who are you, bloody Mary Poppins?” Roman continued, eyes moving down as he watched Gerri take off her rings and apply her hand cream, “What’s inside there anyway?” he asked, leaning forward to try and peek inside the bag, but the table between them meant he couldn’t see more than the top pocket.
“Kellman, do you have handcuffs in there or something?” Roman smirked, knowing he wouldn’t have been surprised if there were a few particular items rolling around the inside of the bag that seemed to be a bottomless pit. “Trust me, Roman, if I had handcuffs in this bag I would have already used them on you,” Gerri sighed, wondering if they could have avoided all this mess if she had just handcuffed him to the sink in the en-suite bathroom in Tern Haven and left him there - or perhaps even earlier than that.
Japan .
All lines pointed back to Japan - that’s truly where this mess had started.
Roman sat up on his chair, elbows on the table as he leaned forward, the so-called emotional support bag now the only barrier between them. “Is that a promise, Ger?” he taunted, eyes meeting across the narrow table, as though challenging the other to blink first.
“Geez, you two are worse than teenagers,” Kerry announced as she walked through their compartment to pick up one of the pastry baskets. Gerri blushed and avoided meeting the younger woman’s eyes as Roman moved, smirking like the Cheshire Cat as he plucked two of the blueberry muffins from the basket before Kerry got to it. “Really mature,” Kerry whined as Roman handed one of the muffins over to Gerri before digging into his own.
“Kerry!” Logan’s voice cut through from the other compartment, sounding as irritated as usual. “If you decide you want to join the Mile High Club, do it on your own PJ and not Logan’s, alright?” Kerry pleaded before making a quick exit through the dividing curtain between the two compartments.
Roman smirked at Gerri as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t even suggest it, Rome,” she warned, popping a piece of the blueberry muffin in her mouth as she went back to her book. “Wouldn’t dream of it, G,” Roman lied, throwing a chunk of muffin up in the air and applauding himself when he caught it in his mouth.
After the early dinner service, Gerri disappeared off to the bathroom before reappearing from the main compartment. She stopped at the empty seat beside Roman, sitting down next to him with her eyes fixed on the divide between their compartment and Logan’s. Just in case anyone would think of eavesdropping behind the open curtain and divider.
“I’ll pick you up from your apartment before work tomorrow, don’t be late,” She warned him, tapping away on her iPhone screen before a ‘ ping’ sounded from Roman’s phone with the Google calendar reminder. “Are you expecting an invitation inside, M’lady?” Roman simpered, leaning closer to her as he hit ‘accept’ on the invitation when it popped up on his phone.
“I don’t trust your father to not have hired someone to follow us,” she whispered, mindful of how much her voice could echo down the private jet. It was a basic move from the Logan Roy playbook. He had his minions - the Hugos of the world - to act as his eyes and ears, watching from the shadows and following up any leads the hound dogs might sniff out. “We need to make sure we look the part - and that includes showing up to the office together now everyone supposedly knows about us,” Gerri reminded him, before getting up off her seat before he had time to start teasing her about there being an “ us”.
Gerri went back to answering her emails and Roman settled back into the comfortable silence. Somewhere over the Atlantic, Roman looked up to make a witty comment about the movie he was watching - an old Hitchock one he had heard Gerri mention once - when he realised she was fast asleep. Her head was awkwardly resting against the side of the plane, a position Roman knew would guarantee that she’d wake up with a crick in her neck.
Kerry watched through the partition as Roman got up from his seat and grabbed a pillow and grey woollen blanket from one of the side compartments. She could just about make out the blonde hair of Gerri’s head as Roman moved her slightly to slot the pillow between her head and the window before covering her in the blanket. Part of her felt guilty for spying as she watched Roman stand beside Gerri’s seat for a minute or two to make sure she was soundly asleep before going back to his own seat.
Thirty minutes later, Roman looked back up from his iPad, glancing over at Gerri to check she was still asleep when he caught Frank and Karl standing at the divider, watching them both. He gave the two men a confused look, scrunching up his nose as if asking what they were looking for, before following Frank’s lead out towards the hallway on the other side of the plane.
“So, we heard the news,” Frank began, waiting for Karl to join them as they huddled outside the conference room. “The news?” Roman asked, playing coy as he folded his arms defensively. It had only been a matter of time before the Chuckle Brothers would come to question him about Gerri. He had always thought of the trio as being like siblings; Frank the overprotective older brother, Karl the mischievous middle child, and Gerri the goodie two-shoes baby sister.
“You and Gerri,” Karl interjected, straightening his shoulders as he tried to look down at the younger man.
Well, thanks Shiv. Caroline had been right about his sister spreading the news like wildfire, but Frank and Karl hadn’t seen Shiv until they got to the villa last night. Had someone else told them? If they knew, everyone else on the plane knew.
“It’s going to be the talk of the building, to be honest with you, Roman,” Karl continued, glancing back in the direction of the plane where Gerri was napping, “Should have put a bet on it all really, I knew something was up.” It was Karl’s turn to be smug as he watched Roman start to squirm.
“Yeah, right Karl,” Frank chastised him with a roll of his eyes. Though a part of him didn’t want to admit that the other man was right. “Seriously, Frank, he runs around after her like a puppy - I just never put Gerri down for an office fling,” Karl shrugged, having unknowingly had a front row seat to the supposedly blossoming romance of Roman Roy and Gerri Kellman without even realising it. There had been a few things that had made him raise an eyebrow or two; the looks they shared with each other, the way Roman always seemed to occupy Gerri’s space, and how they always floated off on their own together in a crowded room.
“Baird was an office fling,” Frank reminded him, wondering what their former colleague would think of it all if he was still alive. “Yeah but he was different,” Karl insisted, knowing Baird Kellman had been a one off in more ways than one.
Roman felt uncomfortable at the mention of Gerri’s dead husband. He didn’t remember much of the man. Baird was simply blended into the background of memories, just another guy in a suit at Logan Roy’s beck and call. Sometimes he popped up - here and there in vague memories of birthday parties and family functions; Shiv’s graduation party, the first Christmas party that Marcia hosted, and random birthdays of Logan’s.
What Roman did know was that he would’ve stood no chance against Baird Kellman if the man was still alive.
“Look, Roman, I’m not going to give you the whole “don’t go hurting Gerri ” talk, but you need to watch your back - and hers as well,” Frank warned, glancing to either side to check there was no one around before taking a step closer to Roman. “There are plenty of people who will use this relationship for their own gain - and I’m betting you can count Matsson as one of them.”
This was all one big game of chess. That was the first lesson Frank had learnt within a few weeks of working with Logan Roy. Everyone was always thinking at least three steps ahead - but this relationship, the power dynamic of Roman and Gerri, reset the board.
“Just make sure you ask yourself how things serve your interest - and hers - going forward. Karl and I will help wherever we can, because we do genuinely care about Gerri. I promised Baird I would keep an eye out for her,” Frank paused, watching as Roman rolled up his sleeves. “I’m not going to let anything happen to her, Frank,” Roman stood firm, being reminded once again that he was the reason they were in this position.
They’d play this game for six weeks, then he’d have one of his signature fuck ups and that would be the end of it. He’d be the bad guy and everyone would side with Gerri during the “breakup”.
“I…you know…I like her, Frank, I really do,” Roman stumbled over his words, realising it was the first time he was admitting his feelings for Gerri to anyone other than her. It felt oddly liberating. Frank seemed to take pity on him as he patted Roman on the arm. “It’ll all work out as it’s meant to, kid,” he offered, before heading back through to the main compartment when Logan shouted for him and Karl. Roman watched them go, sneaking a peek into the main compartment where his father was reviewing a slide deck with Kerry, before heading back to check on Gerri.
Perhaps he’d have enough time to grab a quick nap himself.
They were flying over the Canadian coast when the hostess gently woke them both with a shake to the shoulder. “Mr. Roy, Ms. Kellman, food is about to be served before we prepare for descent,” the hostess announced, waiting until she was sure they were both awake before heading back to fetch their food. Gerri yawned as she lifted her head, the pillow slipping down the side of her seat before she noticed the blanket wrapped around her. That had to be Roman’s doing - especially with the matching blanket thrown over his legs.
The hostess returned with two trays of food, bottles of water, and fresh coffees before Gerri got a chance to thank him. “I have a hundred emails in my inbox, how long have I been asleep for?” Gerri groaned, turning her phone around to show Roman the little red dot with ‘100’ next to her email app. Their meal was spent in relative silence after that, save for the tapping of Gerri’s phone screen and the swooshing sound of emails going back and forth.
Roman picked up Gerri’s pen, scribbling ‘You’re Hot’ across his cocktail napkin before sliding it across the table to her. Gerri glanced up from her emails as the napkin appeared beside her coffee cup. “Wow, you’re a real Wordsworth, Rome,” she said, her voice going up an octave as she teased him by pretending to be impressed. She lost against the smile that threatened to play on her lips, the corners twitching into the first genuine smile of the day. “Fancy myself as more of a Hemingway, to be honest, Gerr-Bear,” Roman smiled, happy that his antics had made the tension drop a little in her shoulders.
Forty minutes later and the private jet was coming to a stop along the runway, the fleet of Waystar managed cars waiting to pick them up on the tarmac. Gerri waited for Roman to head down towards the main compartment before she picked up the cocktail napkin and tucked it safely into her bag. A keepsake.
The New York sun thankfully didn’t come with the Tuscan humidity. Right now all Gerri wanted was her own bed and a stress-free night without a Roy in sight. She might even go a little crazy and order something other than Sweetgreen for dinner.
Roman stood waiting for her at the door of the plane, talking to the pilot. She took a second to say goodbye to Logan on her way past before following Roman down the steps, letting him take her bag off her again. The two fell into step beside each other as Roman walked her to her waiting car, taking her luggage from one of the porters and handing it to the driver to put into the boot. He made a show of giving her a kiss on the cheek and helping her into the car before watching it pull away.
Logan stepped off the last step as he got off the plane, eyes fixed on Roman as his youngest son watched Gerri’s car head towards the exit of the airfield.
“Kerry, I need you to watch those two,” he said to the woman beside him. “Speak to Hugo, I’m sure he’d be willing to get his hands dirty,” Logan thought aloud, having long suspected that Hugo would eventually prove useful to him somehow. Men like that always did eventually when the right piece of dirty work came along. “The last thing we need is them putting on a show for the shareholders,” he warned as they headed towards their own waiting car.
Roman and Gerri presented a challenge. She could ensure that at least one of his sons made a success of themselves - but there was no guarantee she wouldn’t plunge her little screwdriver into Roman’s heart and twist it like Lady Macbeth to take the prize for herself.
But could he stomach seeing Gerri take another step up the ladder? She was already getting a little too comfortable as Interim CEO - a few more weeks in the role and she could start trying to negotiate with Matsson directly. There was danger there.
Gerri Kellman was everything he couldn’t control.
Roman’s alarm woke him up somewhere between 7:00am and 7:10am the next morning. The shrilling ring didn’t last long before he grabbed the digital clock and threw it across the room, content that it had stopped ringing when he heard it hit the ground somewhere between the doors to his closet and en-suite. An hour later he woke up to the pinging of his phone. His ‘ do not disturb’ settings meant it was either Gerri or his dad. Roman reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, grabbing his phone as he headed in towards the en-suite, the Google calendar reminder staring up at him from his home screen.
“Gerri/Roman: Drive to office”
That was enough to make him smirk - the odd domesticity of it all. It was also enough to get him to step up a gear, jumping into the shower before trying to put an outfit together that would look presentable enough for the office. It was too late now to ask Gerri what she was wearing, so he settled for a blue shirt. Gerri liked blue. She had told him in Japan that she had always liked the colour because it reminded her of her childhood spent by the ocean and her sapphire birthstone.
He finally took his phone off ‘ do not disturb’ mode as he walked out of the elevator, nodding his head at the on-duty security guard before heading out the swinging glass doors to the sidewalk where his car would usually be waiting for him.
Roman stopped on the sideway when he spotted Gerri’s driver waiting by one of the Waystar cars and not his own. “She’s waiting in there for you,” the driver - Roman couldn’t remember his name now - told him, as he nodded at the blacked out window of the back of the Mercedes S-Class Saloon.
“Do you really leave for work this late? I’ve been sitting here for like twenty minutes,” Gerri complained, a copy of Architectural Digest resting in her lap and a lipstick stained Starbucks takeout cup in the compartment beside her. “Gotta have some perks to fake sleeping with the interim CEO,” Roman said, earning his first eye roll of the day as he got in next to her. “Good morning to you too, babe,” he added sarcastically, reaching over to take a handful of the grapes she had been eating from a small tupperware container. “Do not call me babe,” Gerri instructed, slapping his hand away before she popped another grape into her mouth.
Roman pouted his lips before getting comfortable in his seat as the car pulled away from his apartment complex. The emotional support bag sat at Gerri’s feet, the latest edition of several Condé Nast publications poked out from the top. Since when did Gerri read magazines? Just another thing he didn’t know about her.
“Are we going to be doing this every morning?” Roman asked curiously, wondering if these early morning meetings would give him a chance to get to know the other side of Gerri Kellman. The side he had so far only gotten rare glances of. The Gerri Kellman who treated herself to $300 silk pyjamas and who watched black and white movies in fancy hotel rooms to feel a little more at home. “Maybe not every morning, Roman, what would people think?” Gerri mused, knowing what the general consensus would be of them showing up together at the office - but people would read into them arriving together whatever way they wanted. Whether or not that extended to assuming they had spent the night together.
Gerri was almost scared to ask the question that had been rattling in her brain since the day before. “Have you heard from your siblings?” she inquired, trying to make the question sound as casual as possible. Gerri knew Roman well enough to know that the inevitable fallout of Tuscany would be playing on his mind for the next few weeks, until one of the Roy siblings would eventually wave a white flag and call a truce.
“Oh Connor and Willa are still lapping up the Tuscan sun, an engagement moon or some bullshit like that,” Roman said with a shrug, turning to look out the window at New York as they darted through the streets towards the Waystar Royco offices. “That’s not who I meant,” Gerri added pointedly, closing her magazine as she turned to look at him, but Roman refused to meet her eye. “Oh, those two. I don’t know, Ger, and I don’t care at this stage,” Roman lied, knowing that the 24 missed calls on his phone screen would soon tell Gerri that he had been the one actively ignoring his siblings and not the other way around.
A few minutes later and the car pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the Waystar Royco offices, the driver got out of the front to go and help Gerri out. Roman was at her side already by the time she got out onto the pavement, her bag in his hand and her coat hanging over his arm.
“Why are you carrying my stuff again?” Gerri hissed as she fell into step beside him, eyeing her tote bag in his hand, his leather laptop bag hanging off his shoulder as though it was an afterthought. “I don’t know, it seems like a boyfriend thing to do,” Roman offered, deciding carrying Gerri’s dead weight tote bag would double as his morning workout session. What did she keep in there?
Gerri wouldn’t complain though. It was about time Roman did some of the heavy lifting - even if it only was her handbag. “Does the list of boyfriend things extend to getting me a Starbucks from down the street?” Gerri tried as they crossed the lobby towards the elevators, choosing to ignore the stares that were sent their way by the employees filling into the office building. “I’ll have to consult the handbook on that one, G,” Roman maintained, pressing the button for the elevator before holding the door open for Gerri to step inside first.
The staring continued when they got out of the elevator at the executive floor. “Karl was right I guess,” Roman whispered as they crossed the floor towards Gerri’s office. “Right about what?” Gerri asked, throwing him a confused look as they walked by her wide-eyed assistant, who wasn’t sure whether to follow them inside or hide behind her MacBook. “He warned me on the plane yesterday that everyone would be talking about us,” He explained, setting Gerri’s bag down on her desk and popping her coat onto the hook at the side of the wall. “At least they’re not talking about those pictures,” Gerri reminded him, knowing the staring would have been even worse if their colleagues knew the truth.
“Good morning, you two,” Karolina announced as she appeared at the door, a manila folder lodged under her arm. “Hey, Karolina,” Roman greeted her, before he turned back to Gerri. “I’ve gotta run and speak to my assistant, I’ll be back in five,” he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the door, side stepping around Karolina as he left.
Karolina closed the door behind him before she headed over the seat across from Gerri’s at the desk. “I spoke to Lucy,” she began, sitting herself down as she toyed with the cover of the folder in her hands. “How did that go?” Gerri inquired with a little hesitation. Lucy was a touchy subject at the best of times. “You know it’s easier speaking to a former situationship when you’re not knee deep in martinis,” Karolina assured her with an uneasy smile.
Gerri bit her lip as she thought of the holiday party last year when Karolina had drowned her sorrows then found herself face to face with her “former situationship” getting up close and personal with another woman.
“She’s backdated the paperwork till the date you gave me,” Karolina explained, handing over the manila folder, “I’ve got a copy of it here for you, just in case.” Gerri reached out for the folder, flipping through the paperwork she had drafted over a decade beforehand when she was Baird’s Deputy - back when no one really cared who was sleeping with who until corporate governance and words like ‘conflicts of interest’ started being thrown around. Everything looked to be in order, including the date for several months earlier that she had asked Karolina to put on the paperwork.
“Karolina, your assistant is looking for you outside,” Roman reported as he strolled back into the room as if it was his office. “I’ll be back in a second, Nancy probably has those press releases that I just need your sign off on,” Karolina explained, before getting up and heading out to the desk where both her and Gerri’s assistants were waiting.
Roman walked around Gerri’s desk to stand beside her chair, resting his hand on the back of it as he peeked over her shoulder at the folder as his eyes quickly scanned the document. He snorted when he caught that little detail. “You put the date we were in Tern Haven as the day we supposedly filed this paperwork?” he chuckled, the irony of that particular choice not being lost on him.
Gerri shrugged, eyes now fixed on her desktop screen as she logged into her emails. “Seemed to fit,” she said nonchalantly as she closed the cover of the folder and added it to the top drawer of her desk. Just in case Logan ever came looking for it.
Tern Haven had been the point of no return for them. The Earth had been thrown a little off its axis the night he showed up at her door. But she had been counting on him showing up, even if she had refused to admit it at the time. It was why she had dug through her closet for those Olivia von Halle pyjamas and packed them - just on the off chance he would show up.
“You know, we could always celebrate with a repeat performance,” Roman suggested as he stepped back, sensing Gerri wanted her space. He nodded his head towards the door that led into her en-suite bathroom that was more of a powder room than anything else. “Roman, go do something useful like getting me that coffee,” Gerri pleaded, the number at the top of her inbox seemingly grew with each passing second. “I’d have to make an exception, Ger,” he poked, the back-and-forth making him think of the early days of their friendship or whatever this qualified as now.
Gerri looked at him over her glasses. “Alright, that look will do it,” Roman declared, rubbing his hands together as he headed out of the office. Those eyes could make him do just about anything Gerri wanted. He waved at Karolina as he stepped around her once more as he headed out and she went back into Gerri’s office.
“You two really have the old married couple thing down to a T,” Karolina mused as she appeared at the door again, another folder in hand. “Don’t remind me,” Gerri said, eyes following Roman as he disappeared down the hallway towards the elevators. Karolina pursed her lips for a minute before handing the folder over to Gerri, sitting down in the visitor chair as the older woman reviewed the press releases.
“If you need anything, I’m here to help, you know that right?” she asked a few minutes later when Gerri scribbled her signature at the bottom of the final press release. “Just figure out a way for me to get out of this in six weeks, that’s what I need,” Gerri insisted, already picturing the web of lies spinning faster than before, each strand getting tangled up in the next.
Karolina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “So long as that’s what you want at the end of this, Gerri,” she said, the red flags already waving in front of her.
Those blasted martini catch-ups were to blame for Karolina’s heightened awareness of the situation. Karolina had felt the shift in their dynamic after Japan and watched their relationship evolve from being two separate people to a partnership of sorts. She had quizzed Gerri on more than occasion about Roman, getting just enough information out of her to conclude that the flirtation wasn’t entirely a one-sided affair.
“Of course it’s what I want. We keep this game up until the RECNY ball and that’s it and we can all get something out of this whole charade,” Gerri protested, ignoring the little voice at the back of her head that told her it wouldn’t be that simple.
Karolina turned her head to look through the glass partition and into the main hub of the executive floor, where Roman stood talking to Frank, who seemed to have caught him on his way to the elevator. “Just don’t get bit Gerri, I’ve heard a snake’s venom is impossible to get rid of once they get into your bloodstream,” she warned, imagining Roman Roy was the sort who was destined to find a way of getting under Gerri’s skin and laying claim to what he thought was his. “But you need to be careful as well, Ger,” Karolina continued, returning her attention back to her friend, “Not just with your relationship with Roman , but this changes the game here as well.”
“Shiv’s not happy, I can tell you that much,” Gerri revealed, not surprised that her goddaughter had so far been radio silent since the drama at the villa - not that she and Shiv spoke regularly outside of the confines of the Waystar office and Roy family gatherings.
“I’ve heard,” Karolina mused, pursing her lips as she contemplated how best to put out a wildfire started by someone as stubborn as Shiv Roy. “Just…be careful - on every front,” she pleaded, before taking the folder of signed press releases from Gerri’s desk and finally leaving her in peace.
Gerri’s eyes flickered towards the glass divide as Logan and Kerry trailed onto the executive floor, heading towards the man’s office. She knew they were playing a dangerous game, but this could work. They could roll the hard six and ride their dream ticket to the finish line. Rockstar and the molewoman as COO and CEO.
So long as their feelings didn’t complicate things, but life always had a way of getting stuck in the middle of everything.
Gerri reached into her handbag, quickly locating the little white cocktail napkin in the interior pocket, Roman’s distinctive handwriting looking up at her.
How much harm could six weeks of a little fun cause anyway?
Chapter 4: From Japan, With Love
Chapter Text
It had been three days of showing up to work together and dodging probing questions from the rest of the executive floor. Roman and Gerri’s assistants had ended up starting a WhatsApp chat to keep tabs on them. “Can you kick my boss out of your boss's office? We have a 2pm meeting,” and “Gerri wants Roman to know her coffee was cold” were the sort of texts the assistants would throw back and forth throughout the day. There were messages asking which one of them was picking up dinner and the assistants giving each other the heads up of when Roman and Gerri were coming and going.
By the time Thursday rolled around, it felt like a routine already. Gerri’s car pulled away from Roman’s apartment at 8:30am - on the dot, not a minute later - and they strolled through the executive floor at 8:54am in step with each other. Gerri’s assistant spotted them coming out of the elevator, sending a text of ‘The Eagles have landed’ to the group chat entitled ‘ The Kellman-Roy Assistants’ .
“I’m going to cancel my gym membership,” Roman announced, curling his forearm up and down as if Gerri’s tote bag was a dumbbell. “Getting lazy now you’ve got the girl?” Gerri teased with a raised eyebrow, her hands buried in the pockets of her coat as they crossed the executive floor, enjoying the feeling of not being weighed down by her work bag. “If the girl comes with this much baggage, then yes,” he protested, not for the first wondering whether Gerri had started putting rocks in the bottom of the bag to make it heavier.
“Alice, I’ve an order en route with our coffees, can you grab them from the lobby in like 5?” Roman called over his shoulder to Gerri’s assistant as they headed into her office. “Will do,” Alice replied, setting her phone down as she opened Gerri’s calendar on her computer, hiding her Whatsapp chats behind it.
Roman trailed into the office behind Gerri, eyes fixed on her back as she started undoing the belt of her oversized coat. Only Gerri Kellman would walk around New York in early September in a coat like that. Not that Gerri actually had to walk anywhere. The suede Roger Vivier pumps were proof enough of that.
“Roman, you’re staring again,” Gerri called him out on it as the door of her office closed behind them, though the eyes of several assistants followed them through the glass windows. She shrugged out of her coat, putting it onto the hook beside the bookcase.
“Is that not what you intended when you put that dress on?” Roman challenged as he dropped her tote bag onto the desk, watching as she walked around it to stand next to her leather chair, seeing the black dress clearly for the first time.
It was in fact, exactly, why Gerri had chosen that dress.
She had rediscovered it at the back of her closet a few months beforehand, gathering dust on a rail full of tailored Armani suits and vintage Yves Saint Laurent that she was holding onto for the girls. Gerri had never been able to part with the dress. It was one of those ones that came off the hanger as if it was an original, made just for her.
The perfect little black dress. A Ralph Lauren classic from 1995. It had been hidden from Roman’s gaze during their car journey under her oversized black woollen coat with its contrasting scarlett red cuffs, collar, and lapel. The sort of red that always gave her blonde hair more of a golden hue. Another vintage Ralph piece.
She was - after all - meant to be dating Roman Roy. It only made sense if she looked the part.
“I don’t think of you when I’m getting dressed in the morning, Roman,” Gerri lied coyly, as if she hadn’t imagined that very look on his face as she did up the invisible zipper of the dress only an hour beforehand. “Well, I always think of –” Roman started, but was cut off by the creaking of Gerri’s down as it opened, a loud knock sounding at the same time.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Frank announced as his head appeared around the half-open door. Roman glared at the man, contemplating whether Frank had been born with the gift of showing up at the worst possible moment. “Gerri, can I speak to you for a minute?” Frank asked, still waiting by the door instead of strolling in like he usually would. Gerri raised an eyebrow. Frank was rarely one to beat about the bush, especially with her. Their blunt honesty with each other was one of the few dynamics that made her job a little easier. “In private,” Frank added, eyes fixed on Roman, who had dropped himself down on the edge of Gerri’s desk like a nodding dog ornament that existed solely for the amusement of its owner.
“Alright, Captain, got the message,” Roman submitted with a mock salute as he glanced over his shoulder to where Gerri was sitting behind him, lounging back on her leather chair with one leg crossed over the other. “Don’t kill your assistant while I’m away, Gerri-berry,” he warned, letting his eyes linger for a moment on the way the square neckline of her dress highlighted her clavicle and the swoop of her neck. Had she deliberately skipped her usual dainty pendant? Her neck looked like a more inviting place to rest his head than any of the $300 feather-filled pillows in his apartment.
Frank cleared his throat behind them, forcing Roman to divert his attention back to the older man. “You have like five minutes until her coffee gets here, so chop chop, ” Roman ordered, his hands moving together in a chopping motion. Gerri kept her eyes fixed on Frank as the younger man left, trying not to think of their usual connotations of “ chop, chop.” The door squeaked shut but she could sense that Roman wasn’t far away. No doubt bugging Alice for a copy of her calendar.
“What can I help you with, Frank?” Gerri asked, nodding her head towards the visitor seat in invitation, but Frank shook his head. He would rather stand for this conversation.
“You’ve got to know what people are saying,” he insisted, cutting right to the chase.
“I can imagine what they’re saying,” Gerri countered, having overheard several of the paralegals gossiping about her and Roman the day before in the ladies room. The conversation had largely revolved around Roman’s suppressed “mommy issues” and how she was clearly trying to shore up her position as interim CEO. Neither assumption was entirely incorrect. This did help her position, but Roman was more complicated than that half-arse label.
“Look I don’t claim to understand any of this, but I just - Gerri, I don’t want to see you hurt,” Frank declared, the temperature of the room growing a little colder. He was mindful of how easy it was to hear through the glass door that Roman was no doubt standing on the other side of. “I promised Baird I would look out for you,” he added as an eleventh-hour plea for Gerri to see sense.
Gerri flinched at the name. Baird had been put away into a neat little box in the back of her mind, only brought out when the martinis went to her head or on the nights when the empty side of the bed became too much to bear. When she’d dig through the back of her closet for his old Harvard sweater. The scent of his cologne was long gone, but the feeling of his being was still stitched into every thread.
All she had left of Baird was a stack of National Geographic magazines, his Harvard sweater, and the tortoise. Everything else had been boxed up and put into storage until the day when it would be a little less painful to revisit the happy years of her life.
“And Baird would tell you that I know my own mind, Frank,” Gerri warned, putting Baird back in his little box, filing him away once more. Her eyes flickered to the glass that divided her office from the rest of the executive floor, catching sight of Roman as he headed towards Logan’s office.
“Just, watch your back. I heard Kerry mentioning your name to Hugo this morning when I was going into Logan’s office. I don’t know what they’ve got planned, but it’s never good news when Hugo is sniffing around,” Frank cautioned as he folded his arms defensively. He didn’t claim to understand the idea of Roman and Gerri as a couple, but he suspected Roman’s feelings were genuine. Regardless, it was his responsibility to look out for Gerri - and that included helping her navigate this new dynamic.
Gerri pursed her lips as she thought back to Kerry’s behaviour on the plane. “If you hear anything else let me know, I don’t know how Logan has taken this news. He didn’t instantly try to fire me, so that was something,” she revealed, part of her still surprised that a cobra hadn’t come slithering into her office to take her out. Though several decades of being around Logan Roy had made her immune to that sort of poison venom.
“You shouted for me?” Roman asked as he pushed open the door of his father’s office. Logan sat behind several stacks of paperwork, a lukewarm coffee next to him. It reminded Roman of the times as a kid when he would try to sneak into his father’s study, when he was still small enough to hide behind those stacks of paper and sit himself down at the foot of his father’s desk to play with his action figures.
“I’m having a get-together on Saturday, Kerry will send you all the details, I expect both of you to be there,” Logan announced, not looking up from his laptop as he continued to type away. “Both of us?” Roman questioned, a sweat breaking on his forehead. It was one thing for them to play up the pretence in the office. It would be another to try and make it work in Logan’s home with everyone watching their every move. One flinch or look the wrong way and Logan could call the whole thing for what it was.
“I think you’re overdue introducing Gerri to the family and our friends as your partner,” Logan continued, taking off his glasses as he finally turned to look at his youngest son. “I’m sure they’re all as interested as I am about how this whole thing came about,” he added with a hint of disdain in his voice that made Roman instinctively step a little to the side, blocking Logan’s view into Gerri’s office.
“Right, I’ll get Kerry to send over the details,” Roman agreed, sensing someone standing behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder told him it was Alice with the two coffees in hand. “I’ve got to get these to Gerri,” he told Logan, keen to get some space to think. They’d have to get their story straight before the weekend - before they would be cross-examined and pulled apart for the entertainment of the Roy inner circle.
Roman carried the two coffees across the Executive floor, pushing the door of Gerri’s office open with his elbow. “We have a problem,” he announced as he stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him, relieved that Frank seemed to have scattered in the intervening time between his visits to Gerri.
“You know it’s polite to knock right, Roman?” Gerri asked, the irritation clear in her voice as she tried to forget about what Frank had said only a few minutes earlier. “Well excuse me for coming with your coffee,” Roman countered, setting the no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot on Gerri’s desk before taking a sip of his own maple latte in the hope that the sugar would give him some liquid courage. Gerri looked at him over her glasses as she swiped the Starbucks mug from the desk, relieved that it was still hot enough for her to drink.
“What have you done now, Roman, told your dad we’re getting married?” Gerri asked with an exasperated sigh as she sunk into her leather chair. A quick glance at the clock told her it was somehow only 9:20 am. “I can go back in there and tell him we are, Ger-bear, if you’re finally cashing in that proposal,” Roman offered with a sly smile as he held up his free hand. Though that news would probably put Logan Roy in a not-so early grave.
“Roman,” Gerri warned in a tone that told him to get to the point. “Dad is having some get-together on Saturday and says we both have to be there, he wants to find out - and I quote - how this whole thing came about,” he explained, taking another sip of his coffee as he pictured all the way his father’s party could go wrong. Were Shiv and Kendall invited? Probably not. Was it all a set-up to smoke out him and Gerri? Probably.
Gerri groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “We need to get our story straight then,” she decided, expecting the party to be a little like being invited to dinner with Hannibal Lecter. Would they be the main course or would they watch from the sidelines as Logan Roy sliced someone else open like a pig and stuffed their mouth full of spices?
“Look, let’s go for dinner tonight, and we can work it out then, my treat,” Roman suggested, knowing it would be the first time they’d be out anywhere other than the office since they got back from Tuscany. Dinner dates between them weren’t unusual but they typically involved takeout from Smith & Wollensky with two martinis smuggled out of the bar down the street with coffee lids over the glasses.
He had something else in mind for this definitely not-a-date dinner.
“Obviously, I thought you were meant to be the chivalrous one in this fake relationship?” Gerri countered, even though it was usually always Roman who paid for their dinners. It all inevitably ended up on the company card one way or another. Roman nodded his head. Touché. He couldn’t do much for Gerri, but grabbing her morning coffee or paying for dinner made him feel a little less guilty for getting her caught up in this mess.
“I’ll send you a Google calendar invite or whatever,” Roman called over his shoulder as he took his coffee and headed out, his assistant standing waiting for him at the door.
Gerri smirked at that. Perhaps she was rubbing off on him after all. A few seconds later the notification popped up on her phone. Roman/Gerri - Hot dinner date. Do not disturb. Gerri chuckled as she hit ‘ accept’ on the invite, watching as it took on the colour she had assigned for the ‘Roman’ section of her calendar before it slotted into her daily overview.
The end of the note was obviously for the benefit of their assistants, who had to check the shared calendars before contacting them outside of office hours. Gerri made a mental note to speak to Alice about Hugo and Kerry. Karolina would need to know as well.
Gerri decided then and there that she would be ordering the most expensive meal on the menu at dinner. It was the least Roman could do.
The rest of the day ticked by relatively uneventful. Back-to-back meetings with legal and PR on how to damage the DOJ fine. They had another 36 hours or so before the news would drop, giving them a short window of time to get ahead of the press cycle. Alice had knocked on her door at the end of the day with the last stack of paperwork for her to sign.
“I’ve ordered the car for 7pm, Roman should be out of his last meeting by then,” Alice explained as she sat in the chair across from Gerri, her laptop open on her lap as she reviewed the woman’s calendar for the following day. “Roman also sent you a Google calendar invite for dinner at Logan’s on Saturday, I’m assuming you want me to accept?” she asked as Gerri glanced down at the notifications on her phone. She must have missed that one between meetings. “Accept any Calendar invites Roman sends - so long as they don’t involve Vegas or buying a puppy,” Gerri instructed, though she wasn’t sure which one of those two sounded like more of a worse idea with Roman Roy involved.
Alice chuckled to herself. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” the assistant smiled, accepting the calendar invite. “Lily had wanted to see you on Saturday though, shall I see if I can reschedule her for next week?” Alice asked, eyes fixed on her laptop screen. She knew better than to poke into the private life of her boss, even if she dealt with the woman’s calendar. Gerri’s relationship with her eldest daughter was complicated and Alice silently wondered if the other woman had heard the news about her mother’s latest beau. “Just send her an apology text, I’ll take her for brunch next weekend,” Gerri decided, brushing the pang of guilt at cancelling on Lily to the back of her mind.
She would understand. Lily always understood.
“I think that’s everything, I’ll email you over anything that comes through tonight from the international offices, but you should be able to enjoy a quiet evening with Roman,” Alice concluded, closing over the screen of her laptop. Gerri resisted the urge to snort at the idea of that - Roman Roy and a quiet evening were not two things that often occurred in the same place. “Get out of here, Alice, and go visit that boyfriend of yours down in finance,” Gerri declared, shooing the younger woman with her hands to get her to leave. Alice didn’t have to be told twice before she grabbed her Longchamp tote and made a beeline out the door and towards the elevator.
It was rare for Gerri to have fifteen minutes to herself. She sat finishing the last bit of her crossword as she waited for Roman to wrap up his meeting with the LA office. He had accidentally synced their calendars together, so she now inadvertently knew his every move. She had contemplated dropping Lily a text but thought better of it. No point starting that particular fight tonight - the same one they had been fighting for the last twenty years.
The knock at the door stopped her train of thought.
“Cinderella, your carriage awaits,” Roman announced with his usual fanfare as he pushed open the door of her office. Gerri narrowed her eyes. Had he changed his suit? She could have sworn that wasn’t the jacket he had been wearing that morning. This one was more relaxed but just as smart looking.
Gerri turned in her chair, slipping her Roger Vivier heels back on before she stood. “Where are we going?” she asked, Roman already carrying her tote bag as he held her coat out for her. “Sushi,” he shot back, elevator eyes on her once more as the black dress disappeared under her coat as she did up the belt.
“What notion have you taken for sushi?” Gerri questioned, turning off the light over her desk as she trailed out of the office after him, hands buried in her pockets for fear of reaching out for his arm. There was no need for that pretence with only a few mid-ranking junior executives and underpaid assistants hanging around. “Well, it’s our thing, that’s like all we ate in Japan,” Roman reminded her as he stepped into the elevator, holding the door open for her.
“It was basically our first date,” he added as she got in beside him, close enough to smell the Guerlain perfume that she must have reapplied before he picked her up. “It was not,” Gerri protested, eyes wide as she turned to look at him. “It wasn’t the Singapore Slings that were making you laugh all night, Ger,” Roman reminisced, watching as the recollection flashed in front of Gerri’s face. “It’s not my fault they didn’t serve vodka martinis - gin goes straight to my head, you know that, Roman Roy,” she fought back, poking her index finger into his arm.
Yes, that was the night that Roman learnt why Gerri stuck to vodka martinis rather than anything with gin in it. The first plate of sushi had been eaten in the relative silence of small talk before the gin kicked in and they found themselves grabbing small dishes from the passing conveyer belt that sat alongside their table. It was the first time he had ever heard Gerri laugh. Not the polite laugh she would do when Frank made a dad joke or when Logan would say something crude and expect a response. Her real laugh. The one that came right from her belly and would leave her wheezing a little as she tried to stop the giggling.
The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby. “Why did you send me a google invite for dinner at Logan’s on Saturday?” Gerri inquired as they strolled across the empty lobby towards the waiting towncar outside. “Isn’t that what you do? Organise your life by your Google calendar or whatever,” Roman shrugged, handing Gerri’s tote and his laptop bag off to the driver before getting into the back seat next to her.
Roman wouldn’t admit that he had spent most of the morning trying to find the perfect dinner reservation. It had to be somewhere that would remind Gerri of Japan. But the restaurant had to be intimate enough for them to go largely unnoticed by their fellow diners. Sushi Nakazawa had been his first idea but they were too likely to run into the likes of Stewy Hosseini hanging around the West Village. He had ended up sending both his own assistants and Gerri’s on a wild goose chase to get him a last-minute reservation for two at Shuko.
When that hadn’t worked, he went to plan B.
“Roman, where are we going?” Gerri asked as the Mercedes drove through Lenox Hill. “Just trust me okay,” he pleaded, hoping that he could trust the pages of Google reviews he had scrolled through after searching “best sushi to impress a date in NYC” in a desperate bid to find somewhere off the beat.
The car rolled to a stop and Gerri leaned forward, rolling down the window as the flashing lights of the restaurant doorway greeted her. It was the exact opposite of where she had expected Roman to take her to. There was nothing refined about the setting - though it reminded her of the little hole in the wall sushi bars they had visited in Japan. Those had been the definition of a ‘diamond in the rough’. Unassuming little restaurantS that she never would have looked at twice but that served up sushi so mouth-watering that she had contemplated a transfer to the Tokyo office. Roman had always been able to pick them out from a mile away.
The door of the car opened and Roman held his hand out for her. “Go on, move at a glacial pace there, G,” he teased, leaning against the door with her handbag in hand. Gerri rolled her eyes as she got out of the car, avoiding stepping her suede heels in a nearby puddle. “If this is a flop you’re buying me a steak to make up for it,” Gerri warned him, popping her phone into her bag as she took it from him.
“Mr. Roy, we have your table ready for you,” the waitress greeted them at the door and Gerri found herself scanning the small dining room. It was low-key but she instantly felt more at ease there. This would be the first time they had been anywhere in a week without people watching them like a hawk. Gerri slid into the small booth, Roman taking the seat across from her. “We’ll have two Singapore Slings and bring us out whatever the chef recommends,” he ordered after a quick glance through the menu. Gerri had already realised this dinner was quickly going to head in the direction of their Japan dinners. Perhaps it was time for her to start travelling around with a cocktail shaker and a travel bottle of vermouth.
“Why did you pick sushi for dinner?” Gerri asked again as the waiter returned to the table, placing down two Singapore slings and the first share plate of sushi. “I was feeling reminiscent, I guess,” Roman shrugged, trying to play it cool as he handed her over a set of chopsticks. “Do you ever think about it, Japan, I mean?” he inquired, wondering if she thought of their mad dash from London to Tokyo after Shiv’s wedding as much as he did.
Japan had been the beginning of them.
“I thought about it the other day, when we were flying back from Tuscany,” Gerri confessed, not telling him the whole truth. Japan was something that often lingered in her mind. A few short days together that had put them on the projectile to this very moment. Without Japan none of this would have happened.
Gerri moved the straw away from her glass to take a proper sip of her Singapore Sling. “I think Japan was the first time I saw you,” she admitted, one hand gripping the highball glass as the other picked at her nails. “You see me everyday, Gerri,” Roman laughed, a little confused by what Gerri was trying to say as he finished another piece of sushi.
“That’s not what I meant. It was the first time I saw you for who you actually are, beyond the facade of the playboy billionaire’s son,” Gerri explained, remembering the first time she had seen that spark of potential in Roman. It was no coincidence that it had come when he was thousands of miles away from Logan Roy’s sphere of influence.
Japan was the first time she felt something other than pity or annoyance towards him. The first time she had looked at him and wanted to help him become something. The same way Baird had helped her all those years ago.
The mood shifted as Roman set down his glass, eyes meeting Gerri over the tealights that illuminated their table in the dimly-lit restaurant. “Well, seeing as it’s honesty hour,” Roman paused to finish the rest of his cocktail, the gin starting to kick in now. He might as well pull back the curtains and bring them into the light. “Japan was the first time I realised I fancied you,” he confessed, toying with the straw of his drink as the waitress chose that moment to come forward and collect their empty platter, returning to the kitchen to get their second course.
Gerri smirked behind her cocktail glass. “Fancied me, are you eighteen again, Roman?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, but she remembered how he had looked at her in Japan. It was the first time she had paid attention to the way another man was looking at her since Baird died. Sure, there had been other men in the intervening years, but they had fallen short in the intimacy department.
Roman knew he was never good with his words - even less so when he was around Gerri. She had a way of making him squirm under the gaze of those watercolour eyes and it was only worse when she looked at him over her glasses. “You’re the bookworm, not me, Kellman,” Roman reminded her as the waitress returned with another round of drinks and their second platter. Japan had been where his feelings for Gerri had become something more than just a playful flirtation.
The conversation had moved onto safer topics for a while. Roman had asked about Frank’s visit that morning and Gerri had questioned him on whether he thought their assistants were collaborating to keep tabs on them.
“That reminds me, we need a cover story,” Roman announced as the third round of Singapore Slings appeared on the table. “Oh, do we?” Gerri asked, twirling her chopsticks around on top of the platter before choosing her next piece. Roman watched the way a little more of her French twist fell out of place as she leaned forward. “You know my dad, it’ll be the Roy Inquisition from the second we get in there,” Roman groaned, imagining that Colin would be escorting them up in the elevator before they’d be served up like the first course of an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“Fair point, you’re right,” Gerri mumbled into her Singapore Sling as she took another sip. Were they making these with double measures? It felt like it. “Better hope Marcia is away shopping in Milan otherwise she’ll be trying to catch us out,” Roman mused, popping another piece of sushi into his mouth to try and balance out the gin. Marcia was far more observant than most people would give her credit for. She was Logan Roy’s loyal little bird, gathering information and feeding it back to him
“You were attracted to my natural charm obviously,” Roman began, trying to piece their cover story together. He had no idea what his father might ask but Roman suspected they could fudge most of it - so long as he stuck to Gerri’s side and stayed in earshot to listen to anything she might have to lie about. “Well, definitely not for your bedroom performance,” Gerri poked, her elbow resting on the table as she ran her index finger around the rim of her glass.
Roman’s eyes narrowed as a sudden silence fell over the table. Gerri looked up, afraid she had taken it a step too far. Roman sat his hand down on the table at the side of the dishes, almost within touching distance of Gerri’s, his other hand fidgeting with a pen he had taken from his blazer pocket.
“You know, I think I could do it - with you - I mean, I’d like to at least try,” Roman confessed, cursing the fact they were once again separated by a table. But at least they didn’t have to hide or whisper. No one knew them here. The same way no one knew them in Japan. They were simply Roman and Gerri. Just like any other couple going out for dinner on a Thursday night in New York.
The gin had gone to her head. Her prefrontal cortex had taken the night off and all rational thought was out the window. But Gerri considered the offer for more than just a brief fleeting moment. What difference would it make now? Everyone already assumed they were sleeping together. What would be the harm in making the white lie a little more truthful? What would the consequences be? Everyone already assumed he was laying her “badly but gladly” and no one would care.
She caught herself before the fall.
“You’ve really got to work on your proposals, Rome,” Gerri tutted, pursing her lips as she leaned forward, eyes meeting once more. Roman was only able to hold her gaze for a few seconds before he had to look away, grappling around the table for his drink. “Let’s just make it all a version of the truth,” she concluded, knowing lies were always easier to tell when they had a semblance of truth to them.
“This flirtation started in Japan and we filed the paperwork when we got back from Tern Haven, but that leaves us with a few months in change between then and now,” Gerri complained, thinking her clever choice of date for the paperwork might end up backfiring after all. “We just tell them I spent the whole time trying to get you to marry me,” he suggested in a low voice, eyes looking from his half-empty glass to her and back again. “Roman, that’s silly,” Gerri countered, doubting anyone would believe that particular joke. “It’s the truth, Gerri,” he reminded her, thinking back to Dundee.
By the time the final sushi platter was cleared, Roman and Gerri had a cover story together. A little fudging and a few white lies, but most of it was some version of the truth. Their lunch together off the yacht in Croatia, their endless late-night dinners in her office, and the overpriced hotel rooms. Gerri had never realised how much like a relationship it had become since Japan. They had stumbled into it seemingly unknowingly until they were four-months into a relationship they had refused to put a name on.
“We should go back to Japan, someday,” Roman proposed after he paid the bill and they headed out of the restaurant. She hadn’t noticed him writing something onto a napkin as he signed for the bill before they left.
His hand sat on the curve of Gerri’s waist as he led her out. It had become so natural to touch her now - even when they weren’t within the walls of Waystar. It had become almost addicting. He could just reach out and touch her now and no one would say anything or bat an eyelid. He was meant to touch her like any man would with the person they saw in their dreams.
“If we get through the next few weeks, you can take me back to Japan as my reward,” Gerri agreed before striding ahead of him towards the waiting car as Roman carried her handbag around to his side, along with her coat that she had decided against putting on for the journey home. Roman waited until he was on the other side of the car to tuck the item from his pocket into her bag.
The food and the gin fully hit her when they were pulled away. “Am I that bad of a date that I’ve put you straight to sleep?” Roman asked, leaning his head back against the headrest next to hers. Gerri shook her head, though her eyes were shut. “I’m just resting my eyes,” she lied, the tension of the week starting to fall from her shoulders. It was rare for her to have a night out somewhere that didn’t involve her spending the entire time looking over her shoulder. Roman hummed next to her as he sprawled back on his seat, content to watch her pretend she wasn’t about to fall asleep.
It was only when Roman got out of the car that Gerri noticed the napkin popping out from the top of her tote bag as she bid him goodbye. The napkin had Roman’s handwriting on it again but on a darker cream tissue than the last one. ‘I like seeing you smile,’ was scribbled across the tissue. She ran her fingers across the ink, not denying herself the smile that tugged on her lips. Gerri waited a few moments before tucking it into the zipper compartment in the inside of her bag, next to the other napkin confession from the plane.
The Mercedes set off for the short journey towards her apartment. The steady rhythm of the car started to lull her into a relaxed slumber in the back seat. Gerri had no idea how much more complicated her life was going to become after that weekend.
The fall was coming sooner than she thought.
Chapter 5: It Happened One Night
Notes:
This is a big chapter so grab a beverage. I know most of you were expecting the next chapter to feature Logan's party - BUT Friday comes before Saturday, though I don't think you'll be disappointed. This chapter is a special birthday gift to Teri, so excuse the keyboard smashing nature of this one to get it up in time.
Speaking of unexpected things. I didn't think so many of you on here and Twitter would pick up on the assistants and their group chat, so now we're running with it. I hope the format works okay. I thought it would be a bit more engaging than just reading blank text.
Anyway, here's
wonderwalla chapter with an OH movie reference title.
Chapter Text
Gerri Kellman was going to string Roman Roy up and dangle him off the Waystar building by the laces of his Prada shoes. He had slipped into the car far too cheerful for her liking on that particular morning. “How’s the hangover, G?” Roman asked, smirking at her as he made himself comfortable in the side of the car that had become his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Roman,” Gerri declared behind her sunglasses, ignoring Roman as he chuckled next to her.
“We’re making a detour to pick up Starbucks on the way,” she explained as the car pulled away from the sidewalk at 8:30 am - still on the dot, even if the coffee run would put them behind schedule by the time they got to the office.
Roman glanced down at the bag at her feet. Had she found the note last night? Maybe it had fallen out when she was getting out of the car afterwards? Perhaps she found the whole thing a little corny, but Roman had never been good at vocalising his feelings - least of all the ones he felt towards Gerri. It was easier to scribble them across something as trivial as a napkin than to tell her face-to-face.
He busied himself by checking his emails, going about the morning routine that he and Gerri had fallen seamlessly into. A quick glance over confirmed to him that Gerri was at the Wordle stage of her morning routine. She still got a three go answer, even if she felt a little worse for wear.
Roman and Gerri were late.
10 minutes late, in fact. Alice had been Gerri’s 1st assistant long enough to know that it was rare for her boss to be running behind schedule. Gerri had whipped Roman into shape already, not letting him make her late for the office after the first morning they came in together. The assistant was about to text Gerri to ask if everything was okay when an iMessage flashed across her screen from the woman, “Advil and vitamin B tablets please”.
Alice’s eyebrows frowned before she glanced up from her iMessages, clicking on the WhatsApp chat that was sitting open on her laptop, relaying the message she had just gotten from Gerri to the group chat.
Alice looked up as she heard the ding of the elevator across the floor. Nancy appeared from behind the metal doors, brunette hair pulled up in the French twist that had become the signature look of the Kellman side of the Executive floor. “So they’re at least alive, then?” Alice asked as the younger woman appeared by her side, setting a Starbucks cup down onto her desk next to her Longchamp bag. “Gerri’s wearing sunglasses,” Nancy whispered, biting her lip as she sat down at the desk that was adjacent to Alice’s near the door of their boss’ office.
“Oh, fucking lovely,” Alice whined, clicking onto Gerri’s Goggle calendar to determine what she could potentially push back if her boss needed the morning to clear her head. “When they told us they were dating I didn’t think he’d be attached to her hip like this,” she muttered, eyes flickering as she caught movement near the opposite end of the executive floor. What was Logan waiting for? The older man stood just outside his office, hands in his pockets as he waited expectantly for something to happen, eyes fixed on the elevators at the other end of the floor. Alice was willing to bet her jade bracelet that he was waiting on Roman and Gerri.
She clicked into the groupchat once more, clocking that her fellow assistants were all online as well.
The elevator pinged once more, the metal doors sliding open to reveal Roman and Gerri standing inside. Neither noticed Logan right away, both going about their usual routine. “Must be bad if you let us stop for coffee on route, Ger,” Roman joked, nudging his arm against hers as they walked across the Executive floor. “This coffee is the only thing saving you right now, Rome,” Gerri hissed at him, lipstick staining the lid of her Starbucks mug as she took a long sip of her no-foam skimmed latte with two extra shots. One more than usual to try to make it through the morning.
“Roman!”
Logan’s voice cut across the executive floor, stopping the couple in their tracks. Alice and Nancy exchanged an uncertain glance across their desks, ready to pull Gerri out with the convenient excuse of an urgent call if required. “Come in and see me for a minute,” he instructed, before turning on his heel and heading into his office. Gerri reached out to take her handbag from Roman, her sunglasses perched on top of her head. “It was nice knowing you, Roman,” she whispered, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze before hurrying into her office, Alice trailing in behind her. Logan seemed on top form, which always meant that someone’s head was on the chopping block.
Roman didn’t feel any better when Nancy threw him a sympathetic smile. Where were his own assistants when he needed a get out of jail card?
Logan wasted no time with pleasantries.
“I saw you coming out of your apartment this morning, is the missus not giving you sleepover privileges yet?’ he asked, stopping in front of his desk, eyes fixed on his youngest son. Roman blinked, craning his neck forward as if his hearing had suddenly failed him. “Is she not…?” he asked, before the meaning behind Logan’s words finally hit him like a slap across the face, the sort that left an all too familiar red mark behind. He could almost hear Gerri’s voice in his head.
Play it cool, Roman.
“Oh, no, I left Ger’s early and went to the gym. Had to swing by my place for a fresh change of clothes - you know how it is,” Roman shrugged, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, his other hand buried in his trouser pocket, “Her complex just doesn’t have a gym, but I didn’t realise your car took you that way.”
Logan was onto them. Maybe Gerri had been right and they were being followed. There was no way his dad just happened to be driving past his apartment complex as he was coming out. He’d have had to go out of his way to do that. Roman tried to remember if he had seen anything suspicious on his way to Gerri’s car that morning - but he had been too distracted by the idea of seeing her after last night to pay much attention to anything other than the blacked out windows of the car.
“Okay, sure, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with you two - all things considered. Don’t let her go around wearing the pants, son,” Logan insisted, looking beyond the younger man’s head to watch Gerri through the glass. It was no accident that his office offered a clear view into Gerri’s. It was harder to scheme when you knew you were being watched by Lucifer himself.
Roman would have been content if the ground below his feet chose that moment to open up and swallow him whole. “You’re both coming tomorrow, right?” Logan asked as he sat down at her desk, a stack of paperwork waiting on him and the familiar ping of an overflowing inbox sounding from his computer. “Yeah, we’ll be there, Dad, G’s looking forward to it,” Roman lied, suspecting that Gerri would rather pull every thread out of her Chanel jackets one-by-one than sit through another Roy function - especially once where she was expected to be introduced not as ‘Gerri Kellman, Waystar CEO’ but as ‘Gerri Kellman, Roman Roy’s controversially older girlfriend’.
Thankfully, Kerry chose that moment to show up with a coffee and an incoming call for Logan. Roman didn’t waste any time in making his escape. “Where are you two when I need you?” he hissed to Nick and Emily as he passed them on his way to Gerri’s office, the two assistants huddled with Alice and Nancy by their desks. Emily mouthed an apology while Nick simply took a swig of his cold brew. “Roman, she’s on the –” Alice called after him, giving up as she threw her arms in the air, watching the COO stroll into her boss’ office.
The door creaked open and Gerri pressed the phone against her shoulder as she put a finger to her lips to tell Roman to be quiet. He recognised the name she was using as her contact at the DOJ. An old college friend of hers who had been happy to spill the beans for a handsome finder’s fee. Roman glanced over his shoulder, spotting Logan and Kerry still watching them from the other office, before he casually dropped himself down into the seat across from Gerri’s desk.
He scrolled through his emails until he heard Gerri saying her goodbyes. “We’re fucked,” Roman announced, eyes still fixed on his phone as he tried to ignore the pounding of his heart in his ears. It was as if they had just gone up a level. The game mode had switched from ‘easy’ to ‘difficult’ in the blink of an eye.
“Any more than usual?” Gerri sighed, putting the phone back onto the receiver, eyes flickering to the side as if she had felt Logan’s looming presence across the executive floor. “Dad saw me leaving my own apartment this morning,” Roman explained, shooting off a text to Nick that he needed to speak to him later in the afternoon.
“So we’re definitely being followed then,” Gerri acknowledged, finally getting the confirmation for what she had been expecting from the minute they walked out of the office in Italy. Logan Roy’s greatest weakness was his predictability. The question was simply how was he spying on them? Alice and Nancy could look into that for her.
“He asked if you hadn’t given me “sleepover privileges yet”, if you’d believe it,” Roman announced, standing up from the seat to pace the floor in front of Gerri with his hands on his hips.
Gerri shook her head, nursing her coffee that was starting to go cold. There was only one thing they could do now. Had Logan set this as a test? He’d assume she would never allow it if it was all a lie. So they’d just have to roll the hard six.
“Do you have an overnight bag?” she sighed, deciding it would be easier to just accept the inevitability of it all rather than fighting it. “For what?” Roman asked, still pacing. “You’re going to have to stay the night at my place,” Gerri told him, picking at the clear polish on her right thumb. Roman looked like a dog who had just been thrown a bone before diving head first into a plate of meat and gravy. “In my guest room, Roman,” she clarified, but it didn’t wipe the smirk off Roman’s face.
“Can I go and poke around your underwear drawer?” he teased, no longer pacing as he walked up towards her desk, leaning over it as he pressed his hands down on the wood. A souvenir or two wouldn’t go amiss. Plus, Roman could always replace them. He’d like to replace them. Run up a $1000 charge at La Perla or Simone Pérèle for her - just because he could. That alone would be enough to take him over the edge. Gerri narrowed her eyes, “You’re getting nowhere near my bedroom, Roman Roy, let alone my underwear drawer,” she warned, her mind already made up that she’d have to set him up in the guest room furthest away from the master suite.
“Now, Ger, that sounds like you’re giving me a challenge,” Roman thought aloud, hands still pressed against the wood of her desk as Gerri looked up at him. It gave him more of a height advantage than usual - and not a bad view down the neckline of her dress either.
Gerri bit the inside of her mouth to hold back a smirk. “Get out of my hair, Rome,” she dismissed him, wondering if Alice had sonic hearing when the younger woman chose that moment to appear at the door. “Roman, Emily needs you, something about preparing for a call with Matsson’s people at 1?” Alice revealed, holding the glass door open as her eyes widened a little as she took in the scene in front of her. If those two were going to flirt so obviously with each other she’d have to call maintenance and ask them to put up some interior curtains. At least they were leaning over the table instead of being on it.
“You know, Ger, we should just merge our assistants together at this stage,” Roman announced, being met with an eye roll from each of the blonde women. “I’ve got back to back meetings all day, Alice, so make sure Ger has lunch when she’s ready to eat something,” he explained, tapping the assistant on the arm as he headed out. He rarely interacted with any of the assistants other than his own, but he knew Alice well enough to suspect he had an ally in her.
“Yo, Nick, get in here,” Roman called across the executive floor later that afternoon, having narrowly survived his last meeting of the day with some local radio stations they were exploring acquiring. As if they wouldn’t just buy them out and repurpose them as podcast studios. His second assistant appeared at the door a few minutes later, carrying his third coffee of the day. “You called, boss?” Nick asked, strolling into the room with all the confidence of a guy who didn’t have to work for a paycheque. He had landed the job with Roman as a favour to his dad from Logan. The least he could do for the man who managed his property portfolio.
“I need you to swing by my place - ignore the mess - pack me an overnight bag and bring it back here ASAP,” Roman explained, having spent most of the day trying not to think about spending the night at Gerri’s apartment. He had never been there. It felt almost like visiting sacred ground. Being granted permission to go and worship at the Goddess’ high altar.
And he knew it would probably take him forty seconds to put his foot in his mouth when they got there.
No. He would be on his best behaviour - show Gerri that they could make this work. He had five weeks now to prove to her that he could take this seriously, that he could step up. That he could live up to the potential she had seen in Japan.
“Are you two taking a trip? Do you need me to call for a PJ or a rental car?” Nick offered, confused as to why Roman would suddenly need an overnight bag. Perhaps they were getting out of the city for the weekend to avoid Logan’s party. Nick couldn’t blame them. He had been to more than enough of Logan’s parties to know that they usually followed the same format; ass-kissing, humiliation, air kisses, and a healthy dose of backstabbing after the main course before making up over glasses of vintage Bollinger and Irish whisky.
“No, I’m staying at Ger’s tonight,” Roman corrected him, knowing there was no way he and Gerri were getting out of Logan’s party the next day. Roman would make sure to find a way to bring up his “sleepover privileges” during it. Nick looked even more confused. “Do you not have stuff there?” he asked, having assumed Roman practically lived at Gerri’s by now. After all, they had shown up to work together every day since they got back from Tuscany. It made sense to assume they were spending the night together at one of their apartments.
Roman knew it was a fair question to ask. Just another one in a long list that they hadn’t thought of until now.
“It’s all with the dry cleaner, genius, when did you start asking so many questions?,” he brushed it off as he dug around his blazer pocket. “I’ll need something to wear to dad’s tomorrow and pack a bottle of the vodka from my bar cart - and grab the new jar of olives that are on the counter, as well,” Roman instructed as he threw his apartment keys across to his second assistant. “Oh and find out what Ger wants for dinner,” he called when Nick was already half-way out the door and opening his WhatsApp. Time to send out the bat signal.
The last few hours of the working day were spent with the four assistants running back and forth across the executive floor. Nick managed to smuggle Roman’s overnight back into his office, once again suggesting to his boss to hire a professional cleaner, before joking that he had stuffed a box of Trojans into his case. “You kids can never be too safe,” Nick nudged him as Emily looked up in disgust from her spot on the sofa of Roman’s office, contemplating whether the second assistant's IQ was going down by the day. Oh, to be a rich playboy in corporate America. “Remind me to buy you a biology book for your birthday,” Emily rolled her eyes, sending off the final set of emails for the day.
Alice and Nancy appeared at the door then. “Are you here to ask if the kids can come out and play?” Roman poked, even if Alice and Emily were more mature than him. The four assistants had formed an unlikely rat pack during the Japan trip - all equally loyal to their respective bosses but seemingly in silent agreement that they at least approved of Roman and Gerri.
“Yes, can our friends come out for cocktails please, Mr Scrooge?” Nancy asked, flashing her phone towards Roman to show him the time. “Who are you calling Scrooge? I seem to remember us all getting you some camera or something for your birthday last month,” Roman reminded her, causing the second assistant to blush a little. The other three assistants and their bosses had come together to give her the old Canon 35mm camera she had cried over in Japan on one of the nights Roman had taken them all to Minato City.
Alice cleared her throat then. “Roman, Gerri’s waiting for you in her office,” she told him, nodding her head back across the executive floor. The four assistants watched as Roman grabbed his overnight back and made a beeline for Gerri’s office. “That woman walks him like a dog,” Nick whistled, before wincing as Nancy’s elbow made contact with his arm. “Am I wrong though?!” he protested, heading out of the office behind the three girls, grabbing his blazer off the back of his chair on the way out.
“Ready to go home?” Roman asked by way of greeting as he opened Gerri’s door, dropping his overnight bag at his feet. “Lower the excitement, Roman, you’re not leaving my sight when we get there,” Gerri reminded him, closing down her computer as she packed up her things, holding her bag out for him to take, using his arm to balance herself as she stepped back into her Manolos, returning to her usual height.
Nick had been right. Gerri had Roman trained like a loyal lap dog. Not that he’d have it any other way, of course.
Kerry stood watch from the door of Logan’s office as Roman and Gerri headed across the executive floor towards the elevators. Gerri glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Hugo walking up to Logan’s assistant. She took a step to the side, slipping her hand through Roman’s arm as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “You’re future step mother is watching us,” she warned, convinced now that both Hugo and Kerry had been called in to do Logan’s dirty work.
Roman slipped his arm around Gerri’s waist, his hand resting on the curve of her hip, the same spot she had told him to hold her at. The curve that his hand seemed to fit so neatly against. “Connor thinks she’s trying to get one in the oven,” he whispered back to her, his older brother’s theory seeming a little more plausible with each passing day. It was definitely one way to secure the fourth wife title. “Excuse me?” Gerri hissed, eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. Roman laughed at the innocence of it as the elevator pinged, “I’ll tell you on the way down,” he promised, stepping in after her and pressing the door for the ground floor.
“I’ll take a look at the paperwork but it’s Frank and Karl who oversee your father’s will,” Gerri mused as they walked through the lobby, Roman having filled her in on Connor’s discovery in the middle of the chaos of Tuscany. She certainly wouldn’t have put it past Kerry to play a card like that - plenty of other women had done it over the years with men with far less money in their bank accounts than Logan Roy.
“Does it look like it’s going to storm?” Gerri asked, stopping on the sidewalk to look up at the dark clouds gathering above them. “It’s New York, this place can never make up it’s fucking mind, Ger,” Roman reminded her, holding the car door open for her. She hesitated for a moment, pulling the lapel of her coat closer to her chest. Was it meant to storm today? Gerri had forgotten to check the weather app on their way into the office. Roman called her name again and Gerri stepped forward, sliding into the back of the car and quickly forgetting about the weather when Roman asked again about their sleeping arrangements. “You are not coming into my bed,” she assured him as the car pulled away from the sidewalk and headed in the direction of her apartment.
Gerri’s apartment complex was similar to his. A 16-story tower that knew no other colour palette than pale neutrals and earth-tones. The security guards at the front desk waved them through, one of the concierge workers calling them an elevator. It seemed as quiet as an apartment could be in central New York.
The elevator stopped on the 16th floor and it only took a swipe of a keyfob for them to get into her apartment. Gerri stepped out of her heels, slotting them next to the Ugg boots in the small entryway that led out to the main lounge.
Roman had never dared to imagine what Gerri’s apartment might look like. They were always in his apartment in his thoughts. Nestled together on one of those long white sofas in front of the fireplace that he never used, vodka martinis in hand. When he thought of Gerri he saw her behind her desk at Waystar or looking at him over a martini glass at dinner. He had never been able to picture her here. That felt too intimate. Borderlining on domestic. They didn’t do domestic or anything approaching a semblance of normality.
Just like Gerri had felt with him in Japan. Roman felt as though he was seeing Gerri for the first time.
The apartment smelled like her. Not just her perfume but the light jasmine scent that he hadn’t realised came from her candles and the faint berry scent of her room sprays. While it maintained the same colour scheme as the rest of the building’s decor, it felt warmer in here - more lived in. This was Gerri’s safe haven. A place entirely removed from the chaos of Waystar and the Roy family. Roman felt as if he was trespassing.
“My apartment looks nothing like this,” he announced, glancing at one of the photo frames on the short wooden armoire that looked as if it had been hand painted with cherry blossoms across the front panels. An educated guess told him that the two little blonde haired girls smiling back at him were Lily and Madeleine, Gerri’s daughters in their Dalton uniform, tennis rackets in hand. Just another glimpse into the side of Gerri he had no idea about.
“Oh, yeah?” Gerri questioned. She had never been to Roman’s apartment, though she had wondered if it was as minimalistically designed as his office space. Put together by some billionaire’s daughter with a Pinterest board and a business card charging $750 an hour for a copy and pasted recreation of that month’s celebrity feature in Architectural Digest.
Roman didn’t strike her as the sort to gather knick-knacks during his travels or spend an extravagant amount on whatever quirky interior design trend some kid from Tribeca was trying to sell for $2,000 a piece.
“My apartment was done up by some interior place, it still looks like a showhouse,” he confessed, confirming her suspicions. Gerri’s heart grew a little heavy at that confession. It wasn’t surprising that someone who had never felt truly at home had neglected to make his own space his own. Roman followed Gerri through the hallway towards the open-planned lounge with its vaulted ceiling.
It was so clearly Gerri’s apartment. The first place she had ever owned herself. She had gone from living with friends to living with Baird, moving from an apartment to the brownstone townhouse when she was pregnant with Lily. The townhouse had become too much for her after Baird died and she used her inheritance from him to buy the penthouse and put the brownstone on the rental market. One of the girls would have it some day, when Gerri would be content to walk the same hallways as Baird’s ghost.
No one else had ever lived here. Every square inch of it was hers.
“You need a hobby, Roman,” Gerri offered, taking a second to straighten the books that sat under the television, picking up the mail that the cleaner had set there that afternoon, “Then you’ll have some sort of personality to add to your apartment.” She flicked through the mail as Roman looked around the lounge. The pieces were starting to fall into place. He could picture her here. His eyes flickered over to the sofa at the side of the room. Is that where she sat during their late night calls? Him crooning in her ear as she sipped on a vodka martini.
“I used to help the chefs when I was a kid. Chopped vegetables and shit like that, Connor and I cooked together when we went on that fishing trip,” Roman revealed, thinking of how he had helped Connor slit the fish and cook it over the fire. It was one of the first times he had ever done something for himself that didn’t involve swiping an AmEx card or pissing one of his siblings off.
“Why don’t you learn how to cook?” Gerri suggested, stepping forward to take the little porcelain owl out of Roman’s hand that he was turning back and forth. “I’m willing to be your food tester so long as you promise not to poison me,” she offered, waving for him to follow her down the hallway for the rest of the tour.
Roman didn’t look convinced.
“Would it impress you if I knew how to cook?” he asked, eyes fixed on Gerri as she pointed to the laundry room - used only by the cleaner - and the dining room that never hosted any guests. “ I like men with brains, Roman,” Gerri divulged, pushing open the door to the library as though to prove her point. Baird had been smart. One of, if not the, smartest man she’d ever met. Roman could be smart as well - when he wanted to be. “But cooking could win you brownie points, I suppose,” she added as an afterthought, not sure when the last time was that she had a home cooked meal that wasn’t prepared by a professional chef.
“Is that your bedroom down there?” Roman asked as they continued the tour of the penthouse apartment. Gerri pulled him back by his shirt sleeve. “Down boy,” she warned, looking at him over her glasses. “Your guest room is this one - on the other end of the hallway,” Gerri informed him, pointing to the closed door at the end. “There’s an en suite and everything, plus, there’s towels and stuff in there as well. So you have no excuse to go near my bedroom,” she assured him, folding her arms as she looked down at the leather duffle bag that was still in his hands.
“Go drop your bag in there, I’ll get the takeout menus,” Gerri instructed, hoping the hallway would be enough distance between them to get through the night without any incidents. “You’re like the last person in New York who uses takeout menus,” Roman told her as he tapped open the door to the guest room with his shoe. “Are you calling me old?” she stopped to ask, appearing shorter under the vaulted ceiling of the penthouse.
Those heels she wore were all part of the ‘stone cold killer bitch’ facade. They weren’t a part of at-home Gerri with her little trinkets and paper takeout menus.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Roman promised, watching as Gerri disappeared around the corner before he stepped into the guest room. It looked as though it had never been used. Did Gerri’s daughters not visit? Had any of the guest rooms been used since Gerri moved in here? Roman vaguely remembered her living somewhere else with Baird, a distant memory of visiting once for one of her daughter’s birthdays.
Perhaps Gerri was just as alone as he was.
Smith & Wollensky won the war of the paper takeout menus. If you could count a full-size menu that Gerri had clearly stolen from the restaurant as one. The steaks and side orders of asparagus, mashed potatoes, and french fries had been the first real food either of them had managed to eat that day. Roman left Gerri with the leftovers of the truffled mac and cheese while he went to get his ‘thanks for letting your fake boyfriend crash here for the night’ gifts from the guest room.
“Ger, these are for your bar cart,” he announced upon his return to the lounge, setting down the bottle of vodka and jar of olives that he had picked up from his overnight bag in the guest room. Gerri raised an eyebrow, bypassing the bottle of Belvedere - her poison of choice - to pick up the jar of gourmet olives. “When did you buy vermouth infused olives, Rome?” she questioned suspiciously, knowing Roman wasn’t the sort of person who did his own groceries or who had probably ever walked into a farmer’s market.
“I don’t know, I just saw them one day and thought of you,” Roman confessed casually, not thinking much of it as he took the bowl from her hands, stealing the last spoonful of mac and cheese.
That melted her a little. The walls around her took another hit. No one would know if something happened - least of all here. They all already thought it was happening anyway. What harm could it really do?
Pull yourself together Geraldine.
Doing that. Doing anything like that would put them beyond the point of no return. This was a six-week thing. They had put an expiry date on it and she sure as hell wasn’t going to end up hung up over Roman Roy at the end of it.
“It might not qualify as a meal, but I can teach you how to make a martini,” Gerri offered, picking up the Belvedere bottle and olive jar that Roman had brought over. She stopped along the way to the small kitchen area to grab two glasses from the bar cart. Her kitchen area was a glorified drinks making station. She rarely cooked, even if the small open-planned space just off the lounge had the latest appliances and a fridge she’d never have a reason to fill. All she did was order in meals for one and make the occasional cocktail for Frank or Karolina when they visited.
“You drink different types of martinis, right?” Roman asked, sitting down on one of the tall bar stools at the island in the centre of the kitchen. “A vodka martini with a twist is for during dinner,” she explained, opening the vodka bottle and getting her spirit measuring cup from the drawer next to her. “And a dirty martini, when’s that for?” he teased, never thinking he would be mesmerised by someone making a drink he had consumed more times than he could recall.
“After sex,” Gerri replied without missing a beat as she put on the lid of the shaker. Now that was a picture. Gerri curled up in a mess of satin sheets in a matching La Perla set with a dirty vodka martini in hand, makeup smudged and blonde hair ruffled. “Or just because,” she added a moment later between Roman’s heart stopping and starting again.
“I prefer my martini slightly on the wetter side,” she added, as though it was an innocent throw away comment, handing the olive jar over to Roman to open. “I’m sure you do,” Roman breathed, wondering if the thermostat was broken or if Gerri was making the room’s temperature go up naturally.
“The important thing is the rhythm. A dry martini you always shake to waltz time,” Gerri taught him, thinking of the first time her father had shown her how to make a martini. “Waltz what?” Roman questioned, leaning forward over the marble countertop to watch Gerri pour the vodka and vermouth into the shaker. “Waltz time, it’s a beat, you know for the dance, Roman,” she said, tipping the last of the Belvedere in before closing over the lid and shaking. “Care to teach me?” Roman proposed, resting her head on his hands as he watched her move the martini shaker back and forth with rhythm.
“I’ll make you a deal. Learn how to waltz and I’ll give you one dance with me at the RECNY ball,” Gerri offered, though she was confident there was no way Roman Roy would ever learn how to dance - with the exception of whatever the arm flailing and jumping was that he and Shiv had done at her wedding.
Gerri removed the lid of the shaker before expertly pouring a healthy martini serving into each glass, pushing the olives onto her silver toothpicks and adding them on top. “And that, Mr. Roy, is how you make the perfect martini,” she declared, pushing his glass across the counter before taking the first sip of her own drink, looking more than pleased with herself.
Roman watched her as the vodka hit the back of her throat, almost instantly making the tension drop from her shoulders a little. Gerri always looked more at home with a martini glass in hand - even standing in her tights in the middle of her own living room. Roman had just taken his first sip, already deciding it was perhaps the best martini he had ever drank, when Gerri tapped the marble countertop.
“Shit, I need to go feed the tortoise,” she cursed herself, glancing at the clock as she made a beeline for the hallway off to the left of the lounge. “It’s still alive?” Roman choked, wiping the vodka off his lips as he got off the bar stool to follow her, glass still in hand.
“ He’s going to outlive all of us,” Gerri called, already ahead of him down the hallways towards the room he now knew to be her private study. “What’s his name again?” he asked, taking longer strides to catch up with Gerri as she reached the door. “Horus,” she reminded him, holding the door open for him before she walked across the room to the small fridge that lived beneath several bookshelves.
“What the fuck sort of name is Horus for a tortoise?” Roman questioned, taking in the view as Gerri bent down to get the tortoise’s food out of the fridge, crouching down to get the berries and fruit. “Horus is an ancient Egyptian deity, did all those thousands of dollars worth of a private school education just go to waste?” Gerri poked, gathering up the plastic boxes before standing up again, tapping the fridge door closed with her foot.
“Must have fallen asleep in the ‘shit that’s older than America’ class,” Roman shrugged, doubting he had ever managed to stay awake for a single history class in his entire academic career. “You realise America isn’t that old, right?” she quizzed him, stopping at the enclosure that sat near the windowsill that doubled as a reading nook. “Since when were you a history nerd?” Roman asked, folding his arms as he watched Gerri pet the tortoise’s shell before setting out his food. “It was always my niche subject, it was my undergrad degree,” Gerri revealed, too busy sorting Horus’s food to spot Roman standing open-mouthed behind her as he looked around the study.
Sure enough most of the shelves were overflowing with history books. Random travel books about Italy and Greece squeezed in alongside hardback texts on the French Revolution, Tudor England, and Lord Carnarvon’s excavation of Tutankhamun’s burial chambers.
Gerri Kellman was - it seemed - a nerd.
And that somehow made her seem even more attracted, in a sexy librarian sort of way. Maybe he’d convince her to read one of those history books down the phone to him next time.
“You can borrow one of them if you want, but none of my books are for the reading ages of 6 to 11,” Gerri teased, carrying the empty food boxes out of the room with her. Roman stopped to peek into the enclosure, watching as Horus munched on a berry before following her back into the lounge. “Haha, fucking hilarious, Gerri,” Roman mocked her as they headed back, martinis in hand, to the lounge.
It was then that he spotted the stack of DVDs lined up in alphabetical order under the flatscreen. “You know streaming is a thing, right?” he asked, setting his martini down on the coffee table as he sat down on the floor, running his finger over the spine of the DVDs. “You can’t get those movies on Netflix,” Gerri justified, making herself comfortable on her side of the sofa, pulling one of the oversized suede cushions against her side.
“You were what - like fifteen - when these movies came out, did you see them in the cinema?” he teased, turning over a DVD of ‘It Happened One Night’, the cover picture of Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert staring up at him.
Roman narrowly dodged the cushion that was aimed at his head. “Alright, Garbo. See, I do know something about all this old-timey Warner shit,” he insisted with all the confidence of someone who never thought they were wrong. “Garbo was MGM,” Gerri corrected him between sips of her martini as Roman rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about film nerds as he turned on the TV player and grabbed the remote.
He stayed on the carpet, resting his back against the sofa that Gerri was sitting on, legs stretched out in front of him as he chewed on the olives from his martini. The TV screen jumped to life, the classic screwball comedy unfolding in front of them. Roman offered his running commentary throughout the movie, teasing Gerri every time Clark Gable graced the screen and wolf whistling as Claudette Colbert pulled up her skirt to teach a lesson in hitch hiking.
Roman looked up every so often as Gerri would giggle at a scene, smirking behind her martini glass as she watched a movie he suspected she could likely recite from memory. He chewed on the olives that Gerri had offered him from her martini as Claudette Colbert bolted from the altar to a getaway car. “You know, that black and white shit isn’t half bad,” Roman admitted, surprised by the idea that he could like anything that had been made before the invention of the Gameboy.
“I’m going to bed, do not go sniffing around my laundry, Roman,” Gerri warned, throwing him the TV remote as she got up off the sofa. He stayed on the floor, listening as her footsteps echoed down the hallway, trying to picture Gerri going about her routine behind the closed down of her master bedroom.
Roman shook his head to make himself focus. No, he wouldn’t go and knock on her door like he had done in Tern Haven. She could come to him for once. He instead decided to use the time to snoop around the living room and library, rummaging through the dresser drawers and stopping to sniff one of the candles that sat on Gerri’s writing desk.
What had caught his attention the most were the photographs. Gerri had far more of them out on display than he had expected, each offering another little snapshot into the life of the woman he was quickly realising that he didn’t know at all. A younger Gerri with two older boys - brothers maybe? - in their Sunday best. Gerri on her wedding day squashed in between two bridesmaids and several layers of taffeta. He took out his iPhone to snap photos of his favourite ones; Gerri pretending to hold the Leaning Tower of Pisa in her hand and another one of her on the beach, sandals in hand as she walked along the sand, looking more carefree than Roman had ever seen her.
Curiosity soon gave way to something else. Was it jealousy? The idea that Gerri had this whole other life that he didn’t know about, that he wasn’t a part of. He left everything back the way he found it before disappearing into his assigned guest room, glancing out the window at the dark clouds as the rain started to bounce off the glass.
A sure sign that a storm was coming.
Opera music woke Roman up around 1am. It took him a few seconds to come to get his bearings. Thirty seconds before he realised where he was. Another thirty before his mind caught up and he realised where the music was coming from. “What the fuck?” Roman grumbled, reaching over for his iPhone on the bedside cabinet, his home screen flashing up and almost blinding him. The music was still going, interrupted every minute or so by the clapping of thunder and a flash of lightning shortly after.
He grabbed the t-shirt from the chair near the bed as he got out, stumbling down the hallway as his eyes tried to adjust to the light. Sure enough, the music was coming from Gerri’s room.
Waking up to the sound of an Italian tenor screaming bloody murder was its own particular form of nightmare. There was no point trying to knock on her bedroom door, so he had to trust that she hadn’t turned the lock on the other side. “Are you having a fucking orgy in here or something?” Roman shouted over the music as another rattle of thunder sounded overhead, relieved when the door swung open as he pushed down on the metal handle.
Gerri had buried herself in the middle of the Emperor size bed, the white sheets and heavy duvet mostly concealing her from view. All he could clearly see was the blonde curls sprawled across one of the satin pillowcases. The small Alexa across the room had been set to full volume, blaring out what sounded like La Traviata. The only opera he had ever been forced to sit through as a teenager. Clearly designed to drown out the noise of the storm passing overhead.
“I fucking wish,” Gerri mummbled into her pillow, duvet cover pulled up close around her chest as she laid on her left side. The thunder clapped before the lightning flashed outside Gerri’s bedroom window a moment later, illuminating the room in a white glow. The storm must be right above them now.
Gerri’s bedroom wasn’t what Roman had expected it to be. Sure it was meticulously organised, as you would expect from a Virgo, but every nook and cranny showed a sign of her touch. The bedside table had a stack of Conde Nast magazines with a vase of orchids on top. The windowsill had been carved out to create another reading nook like the one in her study, a cashmere blanket thrown across it with needlepointed cushions like the ones he always saw in Nantucket.
The thunder grumbled once more and Roman turned in time to see Gerri pinch the bridge of her nose. “Ger, are you freaked out by the storm?” he asked, having not imagined this would be a conversation he would be having barefoot in Gerri Kellman’s bedroom for the first time. A few seconds went past before the voice floated out from under the mountain of sheets.
“I’ve been scared of thunderstorms since I was a kid,” Gerri confessed between the rattles of thunder above them. She had hated them ever since she had gotten stuck outside during one as a six-year old. When she had followed her brothers down to the lake, her legs were far slower than their bicycles, getting lost along the way without her brothers to guide her. They had found her in the field nearby, soaked through to the skin and screaming like a banshee an hour later, long after the storm had passed.
Roman didn’t know what to do in this situation. He had never seen Gerri so…well, so human before. She had always seemed infallible to him. Athena Nike with her blonde bob as her Corinthian helmet and her trusty tote bag as her shield. It seemed even divine Goddesses were mortal now.
“You’re telling me the stone cold killer bitch is scared of a bit of thunder?” Roman tried, crossing the room towards the Alexa speaker to lower the volume so that he could talk over it without having to raise his voice. He stopped at the bottom of her bed, not daring to sit down on it yet.
“Well the stone cold killer bitch wasn’t always one,” Gerri whispered, thinking once again about the little girl who had been scared out of her wits by the lightning bolts and thunder. Her mother had tried to calm her down afterwards - told her it was the angels in heaven rearranging the furniture in their dollhouses but that had only made it worse. Her mother always found a way to make things worse, even now.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, providing the only lighting other than the small lampshade next to Gerri’s bed.
Roman bit on his lower lip for a moment, contemplating his next move. She was either going to let him curl up like a dog at her feet or send him out on his ass into the pouring rain. “Would it help if I stayed here with you?” he offered with a shrug, trying to make the proposal sound as casual as possible - as it was perfectly normal for the two of them to cohabit the same bed.
Gerri lifted her head from the pillow and Roman realised she was wearing a silk nightdress, the lace of the neckline just visible over the top of the duvet that Gerri had cocooned herself in. The strap on her right shoulder had fallen down. Did she always wear those or was it for his benefit? It was a step above the matching two-piece silk PJ set she had worn at Tern Haven.
“I’m not saying I want to get in under the covers and cuddle you - not that I wouldn’t say no to that,” Roman stumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he questioned how the fuck they had gotten into this situation. Here he was trying to comfort her when it was usually the other way around.
“Roman,” Gerri warned, falling back against her pillow as the thunder clapped once more, as though entertained by their back and forth. “Look, I’ll just sleep at the foot of the bed, okay?” Roman insisted, gathering up whatever liquid courage he still had from the martinis to sit down on the bottom of the bed near her feet - or where he assumed her legs under the mountain of Egyptian cotton. “That’s not fair on you,” Gerri whined, her voice sounding muffled as if she was beating herself up about the ridiculousness of the situation, annoyed at herself for displaying such a clear sign of human frailty.
“Roman, go back to bed - your own bed,” Gerri snapped, hand locked over her eyes as she tried to count to thirty backwards in Italian. Another rattle of thunder came, directly over their heads this time, and Gerri seemed to sink even more into the mattress.
Maybe it wouldn’t do any harm in letting him stay.
“Ger, stop being so self righteous, it’s fucking exhausting,” he complained, suspecting it would be easier for them all if she just gave in. He could see her twitch under the duvet every time the thunder echoed through the room, as if Zeus had set up his station in the attic upstairs.
“Jesus, G, you could fit like eight people in this bed, it’s fine,” Roman tried to joke, though the Emperor bed was perhaps one of the largest he had seen. Eight people was probably an understatement. The two of them could sleep in that bed without ever realising the other was there. But he laid his head down near her legs, sinking into the memory foam mattress like an obedient lapdog faithfully watching over their mistress.
They laid in the darkness together for a few minutes, the crackle of thunder echoing above their heads until Gerri’s voice broke through from the top of the bed.
“I’m not made of stone, you know,” she whispered, the Alexa no longer echoing around the room, the album having played through now. Roman simply hummed from his position curled up next to her legs on top of the covers. “Never said you were, Ger,” Roman lied, thinking of all the times he had called her a stone cold bitch - when he was younger and dying to escape the Waystar trap.
Roman regretted making that particular comment to her all those months ago. He knew better now. Knew that the woman who giggled at black and white movies and collected little ginger jars was anything but a stone cold killer bitch.
Roman waited until he heard Gerri’s breathing even out before he dared to look up. The light tapping of rain against her bedroom window served as the only sign that they had weathered a storm together.
He moved up the bed just a little, cringing as the bed springs creaked under his weight as he pushed himself up on his elbows under he laid flat again. It took a second but he managed to curl himself up next to her thigh, Gerri’s position asleep on her left side made it easier for him to rest his head across from her stomach in the cave made out of the cotton covers. Roman threw his arm above her legs over the duvet, content to let the sound of her steady breathing rock him to sleep.
He would be gone before Gerri woke up in the morning. And it would all seem like just a dream.
Chapter 6: Waiter, Will You Serve The Nuts?
Notes:
I started this chapter thinking it would be short and sweet - well, 9k words later and I think I need to learn to be a less wordy person. Anywho, lots of you have told me that you enjoy long chapters. So, grab a beverage and dive in.
No Manolos were harmed in the making of this chapter.
Chapter Text
The sunlight streaming in through Gerri’s window had woken Roman as the sun started to rise. Both he and Gerri were in the same positions they were in when he had fallen asleep. She was still asleep on her side, while he was curled up around her legs, her hand resting just above his head, as if she might just reach down and run her fingers through his hair. It took a few minutes for it all to come back - the blasted opera music, the thunder, the way Gerri had looked curled up under the mountain of Egyptian cotton.
He blinked once - then again - a third time for good measure before lifting his head.
Whatever ways he might have imagined waking up to seeing Gerri with her blonde hair sprawled across her pillow, this was certainly not one of them. Yet, it had felt as if what had happened the night before was more intimate than any of those other possibilities. He had seen a side of her that few people outside of her family ever would have witnessed - and even at that, he couldn’t be sure they would have been let in that close..
Roman’s mind went back to the empty guest rooms and the unused dining table as he lifted his head from the bed. Gerri looked more peaceful asleep than he had ever seen her. Younger almost. Not that he ever thought of Gerri as being a certain age. Thoughts like that never crossed his mind with her. It was just - well - insignificant.
He could see her bedroom better now in the daylight. The walk-in wardrobe off to the side of the room where her clothes would no doubt be organised on velvet hangers, drawers upon drawers of Hermes scarves and those gold hair pins she liked to wear when she’d twist her hair up.
The bed shifted under him as Gerri turned her hips and for a movement he thought she might wake up. Roman relaxed when she sighed in her sleep, sinking back into the bed as though she instinctively knew he was watching her. Watching the way the morning dawn tickled her blonde hair, adding gold streaks through it, and how it reflected off the jewellery she had forgotten to take off the night before.
Part of him wanted to follow through with his threat to go rifling through her underwear drawer and take a souvenir or two. But she’d know. Gerri Kellman would know if a single lipstick tube was out of place, let alone her lingerie. Roman cringed as he tried to move off the bed without making it creak, feet hitting the carpet as he took one last glance back at Gerri to make sure she was still asleep before making a beeline back to the guest room.
As if nothing had ever happened.
Except Gerri remembered exactly what had happened when she woke up an hour later. She had laid staring at the ceiling for ten minutes, cursing herself for being stupid enough to have let Roman into her room in the first place. It felt like another barrier coming down. He was getting himself into every nook and cranny of her life and space.
No other man had ever been in her bedroom here. It was like a Goddess’ sacred sanctuary that no mere mortal could gain entry to. Yet, Roman had wriggled his way into there as well. Gerri groaned as she sat up, the covers falling down around her as she looked at the end of the bed where he had slept.
Was it worse that he had left? Had she wanted him to stay?
Gerri couldn’t answer either question. Not now, anyway. She threw back the covers before heading in the direction of her en-suite to shower. Roman could entertain himself until she was ready to make an appearance. But she’d make sure to double check her underwear drawer before leaving her bedroom.
Roman stared at the empty fridge in front of him. Well, it wasn’t exactly empty. If you could call a half-drank bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, leftovers from Smith and Wollensky, and a random jar of pasta sauce the makings of a fridge.
He glanced at the clock above the TV in the lounge. It was almost 11am and he was expecting her to have shown her face a good hour ago. He had heard the sound of running water before 10am, but Gerri had yet to grace him with her presence. Was she hiding from him? No. Surely not?
Roman picked up his phone from the marble countertop, clicking onto the first delivery app he could find. He knew one way to get her to come out.
Gerri stared at her reflection in the mirror. While her fridge might be relatively empty, the marble counter of her en-suite bathroom housed a myriad of lotions, perfume bottles, and serums. La Mer and Augustinus Bader were all she needed for a balanced diet. She had admittedly been taking her time getting ready - giving Roman enough time to start to sweat a little. Plus, she had something else to do before seeing him.
Her reflection stared back at her as she set down the lipstick tube, picking up her phone and scrolling through her contacts. Gerri counted to five and took a breath before hitting the name, watching the phone screen flash as it started to ring.
International dial tone. Eight rings. No answer.
“Hiya, this is Maddie’s phone. I’m not here right now, leave a message after the beep.”
Voicemail.
Gerri hung up and scrolled through her phone, pressing the second name she was looking for.
Domestic dial tone. Four rings. No answer.
“Hello, you’ve reached Lily Kellman. I can’t answer the phone right now. If it’s an urgent work matter, contact my assistant…”
Voicemail.
There was no point leaving either of them a voicemail. Texts were about all her and the girls could exchange these days. A text here or there keeping the other updated on their lives. Madeline had sent a bouquet of flowers after she became Interim CEO. Lily had sent a handwritten note in her pretty calligraphy that she had mastered at college - ‘Dad would be proud’ had been perhaps the nicest thing her eldest child had said to her since Baird’s death.
A banging from the kitchen took Gerri out of her thoughts. Trust Roman to make himself at home in her apartment. She closed the lid of her lipstick, grabbing a claw clip from the countertop on her way out the door, phone still in hand.
“What exactly are you doing?” Gerri demanded, her voice causing Roman to jump a little, almost dropping the glass he was holding. He turned around to look at her, part of him disappointed to see that she had changed out of the silk nightdress from last night and into a grey wrap dress. The little claw clip was different though. That’s not something ‘office Gerri’ would wear.
Gerri crossed the lounge towards him, stopping at the breakfast bar with a raised eyebrow pointed at the brown bags in front of him. “ Well, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed but I can’t find the plates,” Roman explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to be doing.
It was then that the sweet smell of honey reached her. “Did you order pancakes?” Gerri asked, eyes wide as she could practically hear her stomach rumble at the idea of it. A black coffee and a granola bar was her usual breakfast, eaten on the way down from her apartment to the car. Pancakes though - they were her indulgence. Lathered in the sweet nectar of honey and piled high with strawberries and berries. Roman pushed the black container towards her side of the kitchen island. Sure enough, that’s exactly what was looking back at her. Three fluffy pancakes with a generous serving of honey and an assortment of berries.
They could forget about the plates. She was going to eat it straight from the container.
“How did you know I like pancakes?” Gerri questioned suspiciously as she reached out for the cutlery Roman was holding. “Lucky guess,” Roman lied, not wanting to admit to having seen the picture of her and Alice at brunch several weeks earlier on the assistant’s Instagram. Two mimosas and matching plates of pancakes sitting in front of them as they grinned at Nancy behind the camera. He had saved the picture to the folder label ‘ G’ on his phone.
Gerri hummed in disbelief before she took the first mouthful, just about managing to bite back the moan that escaped her lips. “You know what, Rome, I don’t care how you know,” she insisted, tipping her head back as she took another bite.
There was a domesticity to it all that Roman had never realised he craved for. To be standing at a breakfast counter eating pancakes on a Saturday morning with PGM on in the background. Was this what normal everyday people did? When they weren’t thinking about exit strategies and radio station acquisitions? Maybe this was what his life could look like. Though there would be more food in Gerri’s fridge - and he wouldn’t be at the bottom of the bed.
It took Gerri a pancake and a half to get the courage to ask about the night before.
“Did you manage to sleep okay?” Gerri questioned, her eyes fixed on the takeout container in front of her as she pushed a few berries back and forth with her fork. “Best sleep of my life! Who knew I just had to be in the same bed as you to get a good night’s sleep?” Roman teased, waiting for her to look up at him.
It had - in fact - been the best night sleep he had gotten in weeks.
“Well, thank you, Roman,” Gerri said in a softer voice than usual, sincere in her acknowledgment that he had helped her weather the storm. Given her a safe harbour to rest her head until the storm blew over. She picked up her knife then, turning it over in her hand to point it at him across the kitchen island, “But I will castrate you if you mention anything about it to anyone.”
Roman smirked at that. “Gonna wear my balls for earrings, Ger?” he asked, reaching across the counter to scoop the last strawberry from her takeout container. “They’d be a bit small for me,” Gerri taunted, fingers touching the glass drop earrings she was wearing as if to prove a point. The orange-tinted glass added a warmth to her features as it caught the kitchen lights.
Gerri picked up the empty takeout containers once they had finished, carrying them over to the bin. Roman licked the rest of the whipped cream off his spoon. He had gone for the whipped cream and chocolate chip option - as if he was 5 again and given free-reign of his dad’s AmEx. “You should get like a dog or something, you know,” he suggested out of the blue.
That’s what lonely people did, right? They get themselves a dog as a replacement for the children who never visit or the partners who cheated. So that when they have someone to shout “I’m home!” to when they walk through the door and someone to hug in the morning.
“Like a Dalmatian, so you can call me Cruella?” Gerri asked, cleaning her hands on a tea cloth before going back to the breakfast bar. “Hey, Cruella is hot - in a batshit ‘would probably kill you afterwards’ sort of way,” Roman protested, as if he wasn’t imagining what Gerri might look like with a Dalmatian print coat. Maybe MaxMara could make her one.
The tea cloth landed on Roman’s head.
“What is it with you and throwing shit at me?” Roman called after Gerri as she headed back down the hallway towards her room. “I’m getting changed for this thing at your dad’s. Be ready to go in an hour,” she warned, dreading the idea of having to go through her closet to find something for the occasion. None of her usual Waystar outfits would work, so they were instantly out the window. All she knew about the so-called “get together” was that Frank and Karl were going. That wasn’t unusual, but there was something about it all that was setting her teeth on edge.
Half her wardrobe had ended up on the floor but Gerri eventually found an outfit to wear. She had to be dressed for any eventuality - especially if Logan had something up his sleeve. The red Alex Perry dress had been an impulse purchase. Its structured shoulders had her usual silhouette but the plunge in the sweetheart neckline was a tad more daring than what she would wear to the office, even more so with the high slit up the back.
She padded back into the lounge in her bare feet with her clutch under her arm, black heels in one hand, and a bottle of red nail polish in the other.
“Fuck,” Roman muttered, almost catching his lip on the lid of the can of Coke he was drinking. He had taken the liberty of doordashing groceries while Gerri was getting ready. If he was going to be hanging around her apartment he would need the essentials. “You know that we’re just going to my dad’s right?” he asked, eyes following her as she dropped herself down onto the sofa.
“Roman, ask yourself why your father is hosting this get together,” Gerri reminded him, dropping the bag and heels down onto the floor. “You think this is a trap,” Roman observed, leaning against the breakfast bar. “I think that’s a given,” she replied with a shake of her head before looking down at her hands and the stack of gold rings.
She had chipped her nail polish off, a few lonesome flakes of polish still clinging onto each pointer finger. Her nails had been a casualty of the storm. The bottle of red lacquer sat on the coffee table as she brushed the polish across her nails, glancing up at the clock as she went. Roman sat perched on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, looking between his iPhone screen and Gerri across the open-planned lounge as he pretended to read his emails.
Gerri had just finished putting the top coat on her nails when her phone beeped beside her. “Crap, the car is here already,” she groaned, looking up from the text that had just flashed across her iPhone screen. Her driver wasn’t meant to be here for another ten minutes. She looked between her wet nails and the pair of black shoes sitting at her feet. “How the fuck am I meant to do these up?” Gerri muttered, slipping her feet into the shoes before trying to figure out how to do up the ankle strap and buckle without running her freshly painted nails.
“ Look, you’re going to chip a nail or something, I’ll do it,” Roman insisted as he crossed the room, already bending down to get on his knees in front of her. Gerri looked down at him as he fumbled with the ankle strap of her ankle-strap of her open-toe Manolos. He forced his eyes to stay on those two little gold buckles and not on her smooth legs. Roman definitely didn’t feel the room start to spin when he caught a whiff of the oil she must have massaged into her legs when she was getting ready. If that hemline was any shorter, maybe he could have stolen a glance.
The idea only came to her head when Roman put his hand flat on the ground. As if asking her to step on it with her $800 stilettos. The heel went straight down into the little pocket of skin between his thumb and pointer finger before she applied just enough pressure to not cause any obvious bruising.
“Sorry, did I step on you?” Gerri taunted with a pout of her lips, voice breathy as she felt his other hand grasp at her leg. Roman gulped, knees fixed to the ground as if genuflecting at an altar.
She lifted the heel and walked away as if nothing had happened, collecting her handbag off the ground beside him as she went.
The smirk was gone from her face by the time she turned back to look at him. The stiletto to the hand had been self-indulgent. But it was hardly the worst thing she had thought about doing to him since the start of this charade. Method acting. That’s what the rational part of her mind told her it was. Who said she couldn’t have a little fun with it?
She was simply method acting the role of Roman Roy’s girlfriend. And if she was Roman Roy’s girlfriend, she’d be pushing her Manolo heels into more than just his hand.
The hem of her coat floated around her knees as she walked, the stilettos scraping against the wooden floor as she came to a stop at the front door. “Are you waiting for an invitation?” Gerri taunted, pausing for a beat before disappearing down the hallway towards the elevator. She kept walking as she heard Roman shuffle off the floor, rustling into his jacket as he called her name, the apartment door clicking shut behind him.
Roman caught her by the time she got to the elevator and pressed the call button. “That hurt - like a bitch ,” he whined, face close to hers as he leaned against the call button for the elevator. It hurt like a stone cold killer bitch had just stepped on him with her Manolo Blaniks as if he was the most insignificant thing in the world.
That. That was something else. The pain of $800 worth of Italian leather going through his skin was intoxicating. Oh, he’d live off the pain of that for the next five weeks alone.
Gerri took his hand, turning it over in hers before limply dropping it, “I don’t see any blood,” she insisted with a nonchalant shrug as the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, turning to face him once more. One hand on her hip and the other on the gold railing of the elevator, waiting on him like a mistress expecting her puppy to perform a trick.
“If I buy you another pair of those will you step on me again?” Roman asked, stopping the elevator doors from closing by putting himself in the middle of the frame, arms out-stretched against the metal sliders. His eyes flickered down to the heels once again. Perhaps he’d buy her them in every colour. Maybe even call up Manolo in Milan and custom order her a pair with his initials engraved into the sole.
“Get into the elevator, Roman,” Gerri instructed, tapping her heel for added effect. “Is that a yes?” Roman tried, still refusing to let the elevator doors close until he got his answer. “You’re incorrigible, do you know that?” Gerri questioned, her phone lighting up in her hand as her driver called. “Come on, Gerri-Berry, let Roman buy you some sexy shoes to stamp on him with,” he teased, leaning forward into the elevator without moving his arms from where he was blocking the doors from closing. There was that mischievous spark in his eyes that told Gerri he wasn’t going to let up.
Gerri groaned as she stepped towards, hand going out to grab him by the lapel of his jacket. “Get in here, would you? Before someone sees you,” she scolded, dragging him the rest of the way in so that the elevator doors could finally shut and take them down to the ground floor.
“You’re being really rough with me today, Ger. Do you need to get it out of your system?” Roman taunted, the elevator descending as he took a step forward, Gerri’s back hitting the gold railing. “This lipstick costs too much for you to mess it up,” she warned, finger in his face as he took another step closer to her. Fuck, he hoped this elevator didn’t have a camera in it. “Well, I’ll buy you a new one. Heck, maybe I’ll buy you the whole company,” he offered, hand coming flat against the mirror behind her head, the other on the gold rail at her side.
Gerri hummed at that. “I never had you down as a Richard Burton?” she teased, arching her back a little. The Manolos made them almost the same height, especially with him leaning into her like that. “Richard who?” Roman quizzed, eyes unapologetically fixed on the exposed skin of her decolletage, making their way towards the dip in the fabric.
The elevator doors chose that moment to open and Gerri slipped under his arm. “Remind me to continue your education at a later date,” she called, waving for him to follow as her heels clicked across the lobby. “Yes, ma’am,” Roman smirked, following her out of the elevator and towards the waiting car.
The Mercedes pulled away from the sidewalk as Gerri started to get anxious. She had been to Logan Roy’s home more times than she could possibly account for. Gerri had sat at his dining table for everything from birthday parties to strategy meetings and sunday lunches. But she had never graced the threshold of Logan’s home as the supposed girlfriend of his youngest son.
Gerri pondered whether this was how Anne Boleyn felt being escorted to the tower. Hopefully she’d succeed in keeping her head attached to her shoulders.
“I think we need a safe word,” she announced, setting her phone down onto her lap. Still no returned calls. “Is this where you’re finally going to use those handcuffs in your bag?” Roman asked, turning in his seat to face her.
The bag in question - Gerri’s usual tan leather Ralph Lauren work tote - was still at the apartment, but the black vintage Chanel bag she was carrying instead could have held a pair of handcuffs. A very small pair - but a pair of handcuffs all the same.
Gerri’s eyes narrowed as she turned her head to meet his eye. “I think you’d suit a collar better, actually,” she dead-panned. Roman gulped. “ Oh, do you?” he asked, silently wondering if the orange juice they had at brunch had actually been mimosas. Or maybe he had successfully broken down through another wall the night before. The storm pulled it down to let the daylight in.
“Safe word, Roman,” Gerri tried again as he started to look around for inspiration of something to use as their safe word. It was her hair that made him think of it. “Hitchcock,” he offered, thinking of the blonde haired Tippi Hedren on the cover of Gerri’s copy of ‘The Birds’.
Gerri gave him a smile in acknowledgment, “You have unsuspecting depth, Roman Roy,” she offered with a tilt of her head as the car came to a stop in front of Logan’s building. “But do try and be on your best behaviour, Rome,” Gerri added, pushing down the handle to open the car door, coming face to face with Colin standing waiting on them by the sidewalk.
“Mr. Roy, Ms. Kellman, if you’ll follow me,” Colin greeted them, waiting for Roman to join them. She had been right. This was the definition of walking into a trap. Roman’s hand found hers, fingers intertwining before he pulled her after him, squeezing her hand as they stepped into the elevator. While their last elevator ride had been flirtatious and teasing, this one was almost entirely silent. Roman glared at the back of Colin’s head as the man stood between them and the door.
They could hear the voices from Logan’s apartment before the doors had fully opened. “At least there are plenty of people here, we can blend into the background a bit,” Roman offered, his hand still in Gerri’s as they stepped out. Gerri gripped her clutch bag in her free hand, eyes trying to assess their surroundings. “Oh, no, Rome,” she breathed, straightening her shoulders, “Big parties like this are more intimate than you think.”
Gerri caught Shiv’s eye across the room, putting her bag under her arm, freeing her hand to come and rest on top of their joint ones as she turned into him. “Make it easier to back you into a corner,” she reminded him, eyes fixed on Shiv across the room. The younger woman looked as though someone had just slapped her across the face and set her favourite Armani suit on fire.
“Are you planning on backing me into a corner?” Roman asked, free hand wrapping around her waist. He could practically feel the eyes on them. The leering gaze of Logan Roy’s inner circle as they weighed up whether the rumours they had heard were scandalously true or merely a work of fiction. “With an audience? Voyeurism isn’t my thing, Roman,” Gerri smirked, attention back on him. As if daring him to try something in front of their eager audience. “What is your thing, G-spot?” Roman poked, grip tightening as Gerri’s eyes narrowed.
“Nice of you both to finally show up.”
Logan’s voice made them both jump, Gerri’s hand coming to grip the lapel of Roman’s blazer. They had an audience now, a dozen or so eyes fixed on them, while the rest of the guests in the main lounge watched behind wine glasses and between the waiters who were coming and going with hors d'oeuvres.
Gerri cleared her throat as Roman greeted his father, the pair of them separating to a more respectful distance. “This is rather the party, Logan, we had no idea you were inviting so many people,” she pointedly said, having concluded this party was a similar size to the ones Logan would host for his birthday. She could already see several senior investors across the room with their wives.
Party was a pretty way of saying ‘trap’. A Venus flytrap dressed up with enough Dom Pérignon, caviar, and the rest of the trimmings to get them to lower their guard until it was too late.
“Oh, it’s nothing, just a catch up with a few friends. Kerry put it all together,” Logan shrugged, walking towards the couple, elevator eyes taking in Gerri’s appearance. Roman reached out to put his hand on the curve of her waist - just like she had taught him to. Gerri’s eyes glanced across the room to where Kerry was speaking with two women she recognised as being the wives of board members. If Kerry thought she was playing hostess, then it proved she was getting bolder by the day.
“Is Marcia joining us?” Gerri asked, as much out of curiosity as a need to wipe the smirk off Logan Roy’s face. “Marcia is shopping in Milan,” Logan announced, deciding he had put the couple under the microscope enough for now, “If you’ll excuse me,” he nodded before making a beeline over to one of the men standing by Shiv.
“Marica is shopping in Milan,” Roman mimicked, biting his lip as he heard Gerri start to laugh next to him, trying to hide it behind her hand. “Come on, let’s go find those surrogate brothers of yours,” he announced, wrapping his arm around her shoulder after they handed their coats to a waiting attendant and set off in search of Frank and Karl.
It didn’t take long to find them, both nursing an expensive-looking whisky in the corner of the lounge. “Shiv is circling,” Frank whispered as he kissed Gerri’s kiss in greeting before Karl hugged her. “Your goddaughter is out for blood, I fear,” he added, stepping back to take in the sight of the woman’s dress. Who knew Kellman had it in her? Must be the effect of being ‘Roman Roy’s controversially older girlfriend’.
“You know she’s not actually my goddaughter, right? Baird was her godfather before I met him and everyone just decided to give me the ‘godmother’ title when I married him,” Gerri reminded them as a waiter came by with a tray of martinis and wine. “Yeah, we’ll take them, you can leave the tray as well,” Roman announced, already one step ahead as he handed Gerri the first martini before setting the tray of three orders down on the dresser near where they were standing, taking a glass of wine for himself.
“I’m surprised you’re both here actually. I was expecting you to fake some sort of emergency or high tail it out of the city,” Karl confessed, having put $50 on a bet to that effect with Frank. “I just had to put my big girl pants on to get this over with,” Gerri shrugged, taking the martini from Roman, Frank watching them both from the sidelines.
Roman sniggered as he appeared at her side, hand coming to rest on the familiar curve of his waist before he gave it a squeeze. “Gerri, I have seen your underwear drawer, it’s like a La Perla catalogue,” he announced, watching as Frank and Karl both widened their eyes.
At least that was how Roman had always imagined it to look like. Rows upon rows of matching sets organised by colour, another pretty filing cabinet made of lace and silk.
Karl choked on his whisky as Frank patted his back sympathetically.
Gerri decided it was perhaps better not to comment as took a sip of her martini. A second later she turned up her face. “You don’t like it, do you?” Roman asked, watching as she shook her head. “Too much vermouth,” she announced as she reached out to take the wine glass from Roman’s hand, taking a sip to get the taste out of her mouth. “I’ll be back,” he promised, giving her arm a squeeze as he put the wine glass back into her hands before picking up the tray of defunct martinis.
“What do you call this?” Roman exclaimed as he got to the bar that had been set up in the dining room nearest to the kitchen. “A martini,” the bartender responded with a careless shrug as he shook the cocktail shake around in his hand as if it was an 8 ball. “You shake it to waltz time, don’t they teach you anything at bar school?” Roman scolded as he elbowed his way behind the bar.
He moved the waiter out of the way before making the martini the way Gerri had shown him the night before. Karl nudged his elbow into Frank’s arm as Gerri watched Roman making the martini, pouring the right amount of vermouth and gin before shaking the cocktail shaker to the rhythm of waltz time.
Roman picked up the glass, side stepping Shiv as she tried to get his attention across the room as he headed in Gerri’s direction, martini glass on a tray for her. “Did I make it right?” Roman asked, a schoolboy eager to have his work marked so he could collect his shiny gold star.
“I guess we’ll have to see,” Gerri smiled, picking up the martini glass and bringing it to her lips, lipstick staining the rim. “Well done, Rome, full marks,” she announced a moment later, smiling at him over the glass. He had been the perfect student; just the right measure of Belvedere and the correct balance of vermouth. Though they weren’t the infused olives from the night before, the three he had poked onto a toothpick would do the job.
Shiv watched as Roman plucked the martini glass from Gerri’s hand as if it was a force of habit. He placed his lips over the distinctive pink lipstick mark against the rim as he took a slow sip of the drink, savouring its taste. “You know, I might have a career in martini making,” he decided, wondering if he could change his job title from ‘Waystar COO’ to ‘Personal Martini Maker to Gerri Kellman’. It would be a step up in the world.
Frank and Karl turned to ask Gerri something, giving Roman enough time to look at his sister across the room. She was up to something. He just couldn’t tell what yet. He must have been staring at Shiv for a minute or two before Gerri stepped back to his side.
“Pretty girl,” Gerri said, nodding her head at the blonde who was standing next to Shiv with a wine glass in her hand - clearly who she had thought he had been staring at. “She’s a type,” Roman acknowledged, glancing for a moment at the tall blonde in her Chanel mini dress. More Sofia Richie than Princess Kate. His eyes flickered back to where Shiv was circled like a hawk waiting for the right moment to scoop in and devour its prey. “You’ve got a type,” Gerri added, her voice souring just a little. The blonde reminded her of Tabitha, though her style was a little less eclectic. Roman caught the tone shift in her voice, tilting his head down, “Only you, baby, short blondes with wicked jaws,” he insisted, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze - as much for her own reassurance as for the benefit of those watching them.
There was motion up near the door into the lounge. “Excuse me, Shiv,” Willa announced, stepping around the redhead in the door frame as she stepped into the room with two martinis in hand. Her eyes scanned the room until she spotted Gerri, easy to find in her red dress against the neutral colour palette of the other guests.
“Have you got time for that drink?” Willa asked, holding a martini outstretched for Gerri as she referenced the drink she and Gerri had agreed to the morning of the wedding. “Rome’s making my martinis, it seems the bartender doesn’t know how to make it right,” she explained, raising the martini in her hand to show it off. Willa smirked at that, setting down the spare martini down on the coffee table. “You’re walking him like a dog, I respect it, Ger,” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink as she came to stand shoulder to shoulder with Gerri as Roman excused himself to go to the bathroom.
Willa waited for him to be out of earshot before she leaned closer to Gerri, hiding her lips with her martini glass. She wouldn’t put it past Shiv to have mastered the art of lip reading. “Our once and future sister-in-law is giving us the evils,” she announced in a hushed voice. Shiv had always looked down her nose at her. Never considered her as being worthy of having brunch with her or even an actual conversation. Being frozen out by Shiv felt worse than when Kendall would walk straight past her or when Logan would forget her name.
“Don’t let her scare you, Willa,” Gerri smiled reassuringly, “Shiv has gotten everything her own way from the day she was born,” she reminded the young woman, wondering what Willa’s life might have been like if she was awarded the privileges that the Roy children took for granted. “I just - she won’t even look at me most of the time. Actually, she just looks through me. It’s so rude, Ger,” Willa whispered back, shaking her head as she felt the tears start to sting at the corner of her eyes.
Gerri bent down to pluck a tissue from the box on the coffee table, handing it to Willa. “Your makeup is too pretty to waste it crying on her,” she offered, though she could tell how being isolated by the other Roys was starting to get to Willa. Especially now when they should be welcoming her with open arms. But Connor was in a similar boat. The eldest son but not the heir apparent - never the next in line. The first-born who had found himself at the bottom of the family hierarchy.
“I’ve got to go fix my mascara before it starts to run,” Willa explained, looking up to the ceiling as she blinked to try and stop the panda eyes from starting. “Go fix your mascara and then you’re going to talk about your wedding, okay?” Gerri insisted, giving the younger woman a sympathetic smile as she squeezed her arm before she left.
She turned back around to speak to Frank and Karl, only to find them in deep conversation with one of the Waystar investors. A man whose name she always forgot but who had made his fortune buying and selling half of Bahrain’s rental market. Gerri took a sip of her martini as she stood alone in the middle of the lounge, eyes scanning for someone to speak to.
“Hello, fairy godmother,” Shiv greeted, appearing behind Gerri. The older woman counted five - and then to ten - before gripping her martini glass and turning to look at Shiv. “Hello, Siobhan,” Gerri acknowledged, choosing to use the woman’s full name as though she was a child who had been caught misbehaving.
That didn’t go over well. Shiv went straight for the heart.
“Do the girls know the happy news?” she asked with that fake grin that made it obvious Shiv had once worked in politics. It was the sort of grin Gerri saw staring back at her everytime she turned on a Capitol Hill press conference or a sit-down interview with a Senator. “You know what the girls are like. Maddie’s off writing in Europe and Lily is…” Gerri began to explain, before Shiv quickly cut her off.
Lady Macbeth’s one-time apprentice drove her own little screwdriver in and twisted it.
“So they don’t know then,” Shiv concluded with a satisfied smirk as she folded her arms, “I’m sure Lily would love to know,” she added with a chuckle, already seeing the whole thing playing out in her mind’s eye.
Roman saw the train crash happening in slow motion as he walked back into the room. The way Gerri took a step back from his sister. How Shiv’s eyes twinkled with the sadistic delight she usually got from winding up him or Tom. Whatever had happened, Shiv had gone for the jugular. Gerri looked - well - more upset than unsettled as if someone had just told her she wasn’t good enough at her job.
“Oh, if it isn’t the old ball and chain,” Shiv announced in mock delight as Roman appeared at Gerri’s side, arm slipping possessively around her waist. “Hello, Shivvy. Where’s your ball and chain these days?” He asked, glaring at his sister as he debated whether they were too old for a game of bitey. At a push he’d settle for giving her hair a good yank.
Another Roy joined the party before the two could reenact their fight from the hospital.
“Siobhan, Romulus,” Logan announced, putting an end to the siblings’ bickering as he strolled into the room. “Why don’t we all take a seat?” he suggested, whisky in hand as Kerry trailed in behind him with a plate of hors d'oeuvres to set down on the coffee table. A quick glance around the room quickly emptied it of almost all of the non-Roy except for Frank and Karl.
“Well, this is nice,” Shiv exclaimed, voice dripping in sarcasm as she sat herself down on the single seater while Roman and Gerri took the sofa. Logan had already made himself comfortable in his usual armchair, Kerry perching herself on the armchair as though she was the Lady of the Manor.
“I’ve got to ask. How did this whole thing with you two start anyway?” Kerry questioned, pointing between Roman and Gerri as she popped an olive into her mouth. Shiv sniggered from across the coffee table, earning a glare from the couple opposite. Gerri focused on Shiv while Roman turned to his potential future step-mother, if you call her that. “You should get one of those Emperor beds, Ger’s got one, might help get the stick out of your ass, Kerry,” he hurled, unsettled by the idea of Kerry thinking she could quiz Gerri like this, that she could look down her pretty little nose at Gerri as if she was her superior. Gerri dropped her hand onto his knee, a silent note to back down.
“We’re just curious, that’s all, son,” Logan offered and Gerri wondered how many whiskeys the man had already consumed that afternoon. “Did you finally get it to work, son? Did the therapist recommend some 1-on-1 time with mommy?” he taunted, that all-too-familiar cruelty slipping into his voice like cheap tequila that burns the back of your throat and lingers with a bitter aftertaste. Gerri looked away, biting her lip with enough force she was worried it might bleed. Another drop of blood spilt from the cruelty of Logan Roy.
Roman hadn’t been prepared to take that one lying down. He leaned forward, one arm over the back of the sofa behind Gerri’s shoulder while the other hand came to rest on her thigh. A territorial message that even a man as occasionally blind as Logan could understand. “The bloodline is dying with me anyway, Dad, as if I care,” he reminded the man in a steady voice.
He wouldn’t have said it if Kendall had been around - but his brother had packed his bags and buggered off to Los Angeles to try to put his head back together again. Part of Roman felt guilty for letting him go by himself, but there was nothing he could do - and Kendall certainly wouldn’t have made any of this easier. Roman took a swig of his wine, letting it soothe the tension for just a second, long enough for him to think.
“Unless you get one in that oven, Dad,” Roman taunted back, raising his wine glass in a mock salute to Kerry, causing the woman to shift uncomfortably on the armrest of the chair.
A beat went by. Then another.
Geri thought they were counting down to Armageddon, that she would find herself between Logan and Roman as the man went to once again slap his son.
But that’s not what happened.
Logan laughed.
A proper belly laugh. The sort that left him a little wheezy and clapping his hands together. “Oh, she’s actually made your balls work, Son - figuratively and literally,” Logan praised, the gears in his head turning as he looked at the couple across from him in a new light. Gerri glanced over in time to see the colour drain from Shiv’s face. The only daughter of Logan Roy watched as she fell a little further down the line of succession.
“You know, you two might be a good thing after all,” Logan determined, stopping to take a sip of his whisky, letting it wet his lips, “Bill needed Hillary to get him to the White House, maybe Gerri can get you all the way.”
Roman’s blood ran cold at that. Another reminder of how much he benefited from this charade and how much he was asking from Gerri. Her reputation was on the line and yet his seemed to be gaining traction every time he walked into the office with her. It made sense. Hillary’s polling had never been as strong as Bill’s - even when she was the one better suited to high office.
Their dream ticket could work. But history had shown that only one of them could come out on top and the other would be doomed to live in their shadow, getting so close but not close enough.
Kerry’s phone rang with an incoming call from one of Matsson’s people and the gathering split off from each other. Shiv made a beeline for the bar, while Roman finally spotted Connor appearing from one of the other rooms with a former White House employee turned communications consultation.
“I see the dragons have finally flown away,” Willa announced as she appeared from the other side of the sofa, taking the spot that Roman had just been occupying. She had fixed her makeup and looked more cheerful than Gerri had seen…perhaps ever. It was surprising what finding an ally could do for your mood.
It turned out Willa was the tonic Gerri needed for the cocktail of horrors that the Roys had been serving up. She listened as the younger woman started to ramble on about wedding planning. They wanted sooner rather than later - three months time maximum to have it over before the election. She tugged her glasses out of her bag to look at the Pinterest boards on Willa’s phone as she started to talk about colour palettes and wedding themes, including whether they should have a ‘ no phones’ wedding.
Gerri spotted one of the coffee table books in the case nearby. A photo book of the most recognisable landmarks in New York. “Why don’t you start here for your venue inspiration?” Gerri suggested, opening the large hardcover book on her lap as Willa edged closer.
Roman watched from the connecting lounge through the open doors as the pair pointed at different pages, Willa occasionally stopping to take a picture on her iPhone.
“When did those two become Patsy and Eddy?” he asked, nodding his head towards the other side of the lounge where Gerri and Willa were flicking through one of the coffee table books. “They were talking before your mom’s wedding. You know, I’d appreciate it if you could thank Gerri for me, she’s the first one to really show Willa any kind of attention,” Connor admitted, making a mental note to float the idea of a dinner for the four of them with Willa. It would be nice for Willa and Gerri to start up a friendship. Willa could do with someone to take her under their wing and Gerri probably needed all the support she could get right now.
The conversation quickly changed back to Connor’s plans for the Presidential Election, while Gerri and Willa flipped through the book in the other room. About ten minutes later Gerri excused herself to try to make a phone call, stepping out into the hallway between the two rooms.
Domestic dial tone. Six rings. No answer.
“Hello, you’ve reached Lily Kellman. I can’t answer the phone right now. If it’s an urgent work matter, contact my assistant…”
International dial tone. Eight rings. No answer.
“Hiya, this is Maddie’s phone. I’m not here right now, leave a message after the beep,”
Gerri took a deep breath. Shiv had unsettled her. The last thing she needed was Shiv speaking to either of her daughters before she could. Not that either seemed to want to pick up her calls today. Madeleine was probably on a boat somewhere in the Aegean and Lily was doing God only knows what with who even knows who in New York.
She glanced up from her phone as she started composing a text message to them both, catching sight of Roman in the other room and heading in his direction.
It all happened within a few seconds.
Gerri had been crossing the room, eyes fixed on her phone as she walked, typing away as she went. Roman had clocked that something was wrong, there was a tension in her face that was usually reserved for one of Kendall’s infamous fuck-ups. The waiter had been walking along the other side of the sofa, heading towards the opposite door with a silver tray full of empty champagne flutes and martini glasses.
“Hey, dude, watch –” Roman called, trying to get the waiter’s attention but it was too late. The silver tray hit the floor with an almighty crash, crystal champagne flutes shattering on impact, and several hundred dollars worth of undrunk champagne staining the carpet.
But Roman’s eyes were fixed on Gerri as she stumbled forward, while the waiter ended up frozen on the spot. It was another one of those impulsive moments where Roman found himself bouncing out of his seat, arms outstretched just in time to catch her. The force of the fall sent them both down onto the sofa with a bang - and with Gerri ending up on Roman’s lap.
“Good catch, Roman,” Karl called from across the room, clapping as if the pair had performed some circus act as Gerri fixed her hair, pushing it back behind her ears.
Roman looked from the glass shard on the ground and then back at Gerri before he started moving her arms in front of his face as if expecting to find a piece embedded into her skin. “Are you okay?” he asked hurriedly, straightening her up on his lap as he kept looking her over. “Roman,” she tried, but he was still fixated on checking her over, “Roman.”
Gerri placed her hands on either side of Roman’s face, stopping him in his tracks, his hands locked on her waist. “Roman, I’m okay,” she promised, even if she could feel the wine running down her legs. It was the first time Gerri had seen him scared of anything other than Logan. There was a fear there - as if something had almost slipped through his fingers.
“What the fuck happened here?” Logan bellowed as he came down the steps into the room. Roman’s grip tightened, “One of your stupid waiters almost knocked Ger out,” he answered back.
Willa appeared from the other room with a small towel in hand that she must have grabbed from a passing waiter. “It looks like the wine or whatever spilled on your legs,” she explained in a soft voice, lower than that used by either of the men.
“Thank you, Willa,” Gerri acknowledged, taking the towel from the younger woman as she tried to wipe the champagne off her legs. “Here, let’s go into the bathroom, I’ll help you get cleaned up,” Willa suggested, holding a hand out to help Gerri up from Roman’s lap.
He watched the two blondes head off into the nearest bathroom before turning back to Connor and Logan. “I’m taking Gerri home when she’s back,” Roman announced, deciding that they had been through enough already that afternoon to expect Gerri to sit through anything else.
“Aw, has Mommy told you it’s bedtime?” Shiv asked as she appeared in the room, guided there by the commotion and raised voices. “No, Shiv, some stupid waiter almost knocked her out, so I’m taking her home,” Roman explained, glancing back down at the shattered glass on the carpet, the burgundy wine staining it to maroon. “You sure you didn’t pay the kid to trip her up or something?” he accused, not putting it past his sister to do something like that. She had done far worse in her day. Connor stepped across the room to him, patting him on the back, “Just a little scare, that’s all, Romey,” he told him as Gerri and Willa reappeared from the bathroom a few minutes later.
Roman stood waiting on her, helping Gerri into her coat before they said their goodbyes. “Text me when you’re home, Gerri,” Willa said, giving the older woman a hug as she walked her and Roman to the elevator.
Gerri waited for the elevator doors to shut, the silence between them already uncomfortable.
“For what it’s worth, Roman, I’ve never bought anything from La Perla,” she told him in a low voice, eyes fixed in front of her as she thought back to their earlier conversation with Frank and Karl. It had been an attempt to diffuse the tension between them now.
Roman cracked a smile at that - just as she had expected him to.
“We could always stop by there on the way home and change that,” he offered, pulling his wallet out of his coat for good measure. Gerri shook her head, the disaster of Logan’s party already starting to fade from her memory. “I believe you owe me a pair of shoes first,” she reminded him in a serious voice before she gave in, letting the smile pull on her lips.
The elevator door pinged open as they reached the lobby. “After you, M’lady,” Roman offered, holding the elevator doors open for Gerri to step out before offering her his arm. “I don’t know about you but I could do with a drink,” he added as they crossed the lobby towards the exit, passing someone on their way through. Gerri glanced over her shoulder in time to see Hugo getting into the elevator. It wasn’t unusual for him to be at a party of Logan’s, so she shrugged it off.
Until she walked out of the door.
Her driver had already pulled the car up to the sidewalk, waiting expectantly by the back door. But she hadn’t texted him to say they were coming down? Roman must have done it while she was in the bathroom. Right? But he looked just as confused as she did.
“Clark, we’ll go straight back to my apartment,” Gerri requested, shooting Roman a look before she got into the car. Something was afoot.
Shiv watched as Roman closed Gerri’s door and walked around the back of the car before she pulled her phone out. The window at the front of the lounge meant she could watch the car pull off into the distance, heading in the direction of Gerri’s apartment. She twirled the wine glass between her fingers as she contemplated her next move.
But she wasn’t the only one who had been watching.
“I’d be careful Shiv. The wind might change and your face could be stuck like that,” Willa said coyly from the next window, sipping on her champagne as she imagined the smirk Gerri would have given her for that one.
Shiv’s mouth dropped open a little. Since when had Willa developed claws? She watched as Willa turned on her heel and walked off. This was all clearly Gerri’s doing. Clearly the older woman was doing more than just bolstering Roman’s ego.
Her mind was made up.
Shiv tapped her phone screen, scrolling until she found the name she was looking for and pressing it.
Domestic ringtone. Three rings. The person on the other end picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lily, it’s Shiv,” she greeted, making a beeline in the direction of the stairs to find somewhere quiet to speak to the eldest of the Kellman girls. “Long time, Shiv, I’m assuming there’s a reason for this call?” Lily asked, her voice floating through as Shiv switched her phone onto speaker as she reached the top of the staircase.
“Yeah, I just wanted to call to ask if you’ve heard from your mom recently,” Shiv began, although she already knew the answer to her question. “I think there’s something you should know,” she continued, shutting the door behind her as she set the wheels in motion.
Later that evening, four phones pinged across Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Chapter 7: Kellman vs. Roy
Chapter Text
Monday was the first time that Roman and Gerri hadn’t shown up together to the office. She had texted him at 7am - right when she knew his alarm would be going off - to tell him she had to go into the office early to deal with something. It had taken every rational particle in her brain to stop her from heading into the office at 4am when she had finally given up on any semblance of sleep.
Logan’s party played back in her mind in slow motion. Bit by bit. The elevator ride from her apartment. Walking into Logan’s trap. The way Shiv had sneered at her about the girls. Roman’s martini. The way Logan had quizzed them before Roman had shown his teeth, leering back at him with all the possessiveness of an overprotective partner. How he had caught her when she fell. Pulled her right into his lap - another reminder of how well they seemed to fit together.
Part of her had come undone then and there. Another brick falling out of the walls of Jericho. She wouldn’t have put up a fight if he had invited himself back into her apartment and taken up residence as if he owned the place. But the saga with her driver had unnerved her. A reminder of how this was all a dangerous game.
They had to put on enough of a show to carry on the charade for the next five weeks without blurring the lines beyond recognition. And that was already getting more difficult by the day. It was getting harder to pretend that they could just go back to the way things had been before. To just stolen moments in overpriced hotel rooms, late night phone conversations and office flirtations.
She had fallen into his arms once already and her method acting was going to push them both to the edge. You could only dangle a forbidden fruit in the air for so long until someone’s resolve would snap. Until the serpent’s voice would hiss in their ear and tell them “what harm could it do?” before they’d end up a tangled mess in satin bed sheets with her nails running down his back, digging in like Eve’s teeth into the juicy red apple. Marking him as hers.
But it wasn’t that simple.
While Logan might have waxed lyrical about her supposed relationship with Roman, it was clear that he was still unnerved by it. Hugo and Kerry seemed to be trying to sniff them out. Her driver had almost certainly been paid off. Gerri had made sure to have Alice send the man a copy of the water-tight NDA he had signed at the beginning of his contract.
She had gone into the office without Roman to give herself time to think. To look down at the chessboard and work out not only her own next move, but their opponent’s.
“Good morning, Gerri,” Alice greeted, appearing at the door with the coffee that Roman would usually have brought for her. “Hi, Alice,” Gerri smiled, accepting the coffee as her assistant sat down in the visitor’s chair. She had texted her assistant on her way in asking her to pick up her usual coffee order - knowing Alice would pick up on the fact it meant Roman wouldn’t be coming in with her.
“I didn’t think we had an early meeting,” Alice mused, still surprised as to why Gerri had shown up to the office an hour earlier than usual. “I just want to clear my head for a bit,” Gerri explained, bringing the skimmed latte to her lips. Alice raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t comment. She had known Gerri long enough to know when not to push her something. “How did the party go on Saturday?” Alice asked, knowing there wasn’t much she wouldn’t have done to be a fly on the wall at that. But Gerri’s text about her driver the same evening had told Alice that something had transpired over the course of the afternoon to have convinced Gerri he was no longer trustworthy. “Well, we survived it but I think it’s wise that you play buffer if Shiv appears in the office,” Gerri explained, earning a silent nod in understanding from her first assistant.
Shiv had unnerved her - and it didn’t take Bobby Fischer to work out her next move.
“Alice,” Gerri called, stopping the assistant before she could reach the door to return to her desk. “Can you call Lily’s office and ask if she’s free for lunch some day this week?” she requested, biting the inside of her lip. It was one thing for her daughter not to pick up her calls, it was another for her to be made to talk to her through an assistant.
But the roles had been reversed in years gone by. Gerri couldn’t deny that fact. Couldn’t deny that there was a time when Lily had been forced to call her assistants to speak to her instead of being able to get to her directly. Yet she had always tried to answer when she could. The same couldn’t be said for her eldest daughter.
“Sure, I’ll see what I can do,” Alice acknowledged the request with a smile, but there was an alarm bell starting to ring in the back of her head. She’d bet her vinyl collection on the fact that Lily didn’t know about Roman and Gerri - and that her boss was trying to get to her before the rumours would inevitably trickle their way through New York’s corporate elite.
Gerri managed an hour of work - which mainly consisted of her staring at a blank screen as she contemplated her life choices - before a familiar voice sounded from her office door.
“Are you avoiding me, G-Spot?”
Roman’s voice made her flinch. When had he gotten so good at sneaking up on her? Perhaps she was just getting more used to him being in her space.
“Do you need me to hold your hand when you’re coming into the office?” Gerri poked when she got herself back together, looking at him over her laptop screen. Part of her knew it was better to fall into habits like going to the office everyday together. It would only make the eventual separation worse.
“I missed you this morning,” Roman confessed, stepping further into the room with two coffees in hand. He had turned to her side of the car more than once to say something, only to be met by the empty space where she should have been. It was why he had ended up doom scrolling through his phone until the elevator ride came back to his mind. He could practically hear Gerri’s voice in her head as she said, “I’ve never shopped at LaPerla.”
It took him less than 5 minutes to add $2,595 worth of stuff into his cart. Not that $2,595 bought you much from La Perla. A silk nightgown with two matching silk and lace lingerie sets - to be exact. He selected the premium same-day shipping option, smirking to himself as put down the Waystar Royco office address and her name.
“I got your usual,” Roman told her, holding out the coffee cup in his left hand. “Alice brought me one already,” Gerri informed him, nodding her head towards the half-empty coffee cup on her desk. “Oh,” he paused, suddenly at a loss. Bringing Gerri her coffee was one thing he looked forward to doing every morning. A small thing he could do to make her day a little easier.
He thought of the LaPerla box that was probably being wrapped up at that very minute. Part of him worried he had overstepped the mark with that - especially if Gerri was in a mood. But she had been off from the minute they got into the car after his dad’s party. Maybe a La Perla order was what she needed to beat the post-Roy family gathering blues.
“Have you thought yet about the RECNY ball?” Gerri asked, running her pointer nail along her thumb. It was a topic that had dominated her thoughts for several of the hours she had tossed and turned in bed, failing to get any proper sleep.
“Well, I know I’m going to dance the waltz with you. I had Emily sign me up for an online class or some bullshit like that,” Roman revealed, dropping Gerri’s coffee down onto her desk before rounding the desk to her side and leaning against it. “That’s not what I meant. The RECNY ball is our deadline, have you decided what the exit strategy is yet?” Gerri clarified, leaning back in her leather seat to look up at him.
That hit him like a slap across the face. The sort that left a nasty sting behind. Gerri spoke as if it was a business transaction.
He had deliberately avoided thinking about the RECNY ball beyond getting to dance with Gerri in public. That he had thought about on more than one occasion since Friday night. But they had agreed that the RECNY ball was the deadline for this little game. Agreed that he would cause a scene that would paint him as the bad guy and give Gerri a rock solid reason to leave him.
There would have to be someone else involved. The infamous ‘ other woman’. He could have asked Tabitha, but he wouldn’t do that to Gerri - regardless of the fact this was all supposed to be fake. That felt too personal and this didn’t feel fake to him anymore. Roman doubted Tabitha would even have agreed to it anyway. He had long believed that she had her suspicions about his feelings for Gerri as early as Tern Haven.
An escort made sense. Plus, all he would be paying her for would be the illusion of something happening. Nothing would actually happen. If he had his way, the whole thing wouldn’t need to happen. This wouldn’t be a facade by then and there would be no need to pull a scene or orchestrate a break-up as Gerri’s ‘get out of jail free’ card.
He still had five weeks to turn this on its head. Roman wouldn’t worry just yet.
“Yeah, I’m working on it, don’t sweat it, G,” he lied as he shrugged his shoulders, fidgeting with his cufflinks. Gerri reached up to slap his fingers away. “You’ll run your shirt if you do that,” she scolded him, the intimacy of her actions putting him at ease again. They had gone from never touching each other - an unspoken rule of theirs - to freely touching. If only they could go from dressing each other to undressing each other.
Roman smirked down at her, leaning forward to put his hand on the back of her chair. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, don’t think it’s good for me to start my day without a dose of Vitamin G,” he told her, watching as she tried her best to fight back against a laughing at that, biting down on the inside of her cheek, a dimple coming to the surface.
“Gotta run, Gerri,” Roman announced, backing up from her seat and turning around to pick up the half-drunk coffee cup from her desk, leaving behind the one he had brought her. Gerri pushed her chair back towards her desk as the door squeaked shut behind Roman, her eyes following him as he crossed the floor, greeting her assistants as he went.
Nick and Emily stood waiting for him in his office. “Right, let’s go over the schedule for the week,” he announced, glancing over his shoulder and across the executive floor towards Gerri’s office, where her own assistant had just walked through the door. Emily opened her laptop screen with Roman’s schedule for the day, while Nick lounged on the visitor’s chair in front of his boss’ desk.
“There’s a meeting at 10am with one of the radio stations on our acquisitions list then an interview with a journalist from Business Insider. I’ve managed to squeeze you a full hour for lunch - don’t waste it, Roman - and you have a 3:30 coffee with Condé Nast,” she told him, reading down through the schedule in his Google calendar.
“Are we acquiring Condé Nast now?” Roman asked sarcastically, though it wouldn’t have surprised him if his father decided he wanted to go to war with Anna Wintour. “Who knows - maybe they want to do a feature with you - Nick spoke with the assistant there to set it up,” Emily offered, before moving onto the rest of that week’s schedule.
While Roman’s assistants went over his schedule, Gerri’s second assistant glared daggers at Kerry. The woman had paced around the length of the executive floor three times in the last ten minutes, each time slowing down a little when she got near Roman and Gerri’s offices, as if expecting to hear or see something.
Alice came out of Gerri’s office another five minutes later to find Nancy still glaring at the back of Kerry’s head. “Why is Kerry constantly hanging around here?” Nancy whispered in a hushed voice as she leaned towards Alice’s desk, eyes fixed on the dark haired woman as she headed back in the direction of Logan’s office. “Beats me, but I guarantee you she’s doing it on Logan’s behalf,” Alice concluded, glancing at Logan’s office as the door shut behind Kerry as she went inside.
“I’m going to go snoop,” Nancy declared, tapping her acrylic nails against her desk as she looked around for the right opportunity. “Shout if you need any help, Jessica Fletcher,” Alice said, starting to type up an email to give herself some plausible deniability if her fellow assistant got caught along the way.
Nancy waited for Greg to walk by - refusing to have yet another conversation with the guy about his $40,000 watch - before getting up from her desk. Thankfully it was that time in the morning when most of the mid-ranking executives and assistants were away at breakfast meetings or locked in a conference room somewhere taking calls from the international offices. Nancy made her way over towards Kerry’s desk, slipping her phone out of her pocket as she pretended to drop something, bending down to pick it up and hovering over Kerry’s open Google calendar on her iPad. A quick click of her phone and she had all she needed.
“Did you find anything?” Alice asked as Nancy returned, her eyes fixed on her iPhone as she zoomed in on the picture she had taken before she stopped at Alice’s desk, bending down to show her the picture. “She’s got a 6pm with Hugo,” Nancy whispered, zooming in on the calendar slot. “Why the fuck is she meeting Hugo?” Alice questioned, snapping the phone from her friend’s hand.
“My thoughts exactly,” Nancy mused, wondering if maybe her weekends spent in St Mary Mead with Miss Marple would come in useful after all.
The rest of the day went by relatively uneventful until mid-afternoon when Gerri heard a knock. “Were you expecting something?” Alice questioned as she poked her head through the door of Gerri’s office when she came back from a meeting with the paralegals.. “No, why?” Gerri asked, looking up from the salad she had been mostly picking at. “Cause I just signed for this,” the younger woman announced, stepping into the room to show off the large cardboard box in her arms.
Gerri pulled her eyebrows together, eyeing the box suspiciously as she waved Alice over with it, lifting her papers and laptop to clear enough space on her desk for it. She pulled the tag along the side, opening the exterior box to find a slightly smaller one inside, tied up with a white silk ribbon. Alice had stepped forward, curiosity getting the better of her when Gerri spotted the familiar name embossed onto the box.
La Perla.
Gerri closed the box again as quickly as she had opened it, causing Alice to jump back a little. “Thank you for signing for this, Alice. I must have forgotten I was having it delivered here and not the apartment, my bad,” she lied, feeling her left eye twitching as she tried to keep a straight face. “Oh, no worries, I do it all the time,” Alice waved it off with a smile, though she made a mental note to try and figure out what it was that Gerri had been so keen to hide from her. It wasn’t unusual for Gerri to show off her latest purchase to her assistants, nearly always asking for their advice before investing in a new MaxMara coat or Manolo heels.
Gerri waited for Alice to shut the door before she pushed open the lid of the box.
Inside the second box were three smaller La Perla boxes, buried under several layers of monogrammed tissue paper. It was like a grown-up version of Matryoshka nesting dolls. She turned it away from the window to block anyone seeing the contents as she started opening the smaller boxes.
Two matching sets of lingerie and a nightdress. One of the sets was the same twilight blue as the nightdress with frastaglio embroidery creating the illusion of flowers along the plunging neckline. The other had the same design but in a scarlet red - the very same hue as the dress she had worn to Logan’s party.
She didn’t have to read the note to know who they were from.
Gerri put each piece back into their respective boxes before closing the lid, hiding the large box behind her desk. She’d have to find a bag to smuggle the boxes out in when she’d leave that evening.
“Nancy, do you know where Roman is?” Gerri asked as she stepped out of her office and towards the two assistant desks in the nearby cubicle. “I saw him leave about fifteen minutes ago, I think he went out for a meeting. Emily synced up his Google Calendar for you, so you should be able to check on your phone,” Nancy explained, tapping out of the WhatsApp chat on her laptop before Gerri could see it. The last thing she needed was her boss to see them speculating about the parcel that had been delivered.
Gerri pursed her lips, glancing across the executive floor and into Roman’s empty office. Emily and Nick were nowhere in sight either. “Thanks, Nanc,” she acknowledged, before heading back into her office and sitting down at her desk. Part of her was disappointed that the box had arrived when he wasn't there. She just wanted him to know what was sitting in her office, right under everyone else’s nose.
She glanced over at the box as she clicked into her Google calendar, selecting the tab that made Roman’s calendar appear alongside her own. “Coffee meet with Lily from Condé Nast” was slotted into his calendar for 3:30pm with the address for a Starbucks Reserve on Vesey Street.
“Fuck,” Gerri hissed, hands fumbling around her desk in search of her phone, pushing legal papers and press releases out of the way in search of her phone. She tapped the first number in the favourites section of her contacts.
Domestic dial. Eight rings. No answer.
“Hi! This is Roman’s phone. Leave a message after the BEEP.”
Gerri kicked her heels off as she stood from her desk, heading towards the window with her phone in hand, scrolling through her contacts until she found Lily’s name.
“Nancy, why is Gerri pacing around the office without her shoes on?” Alice hissed, relieved that most of the mid-ranking executives who usually sat near them were out for a meeting. “What do you mean… shit,” Nancy paused, peering over the top of the cubicle and into Gerri’s office as the woman shrugged out of her blazer, throwing it onto the sofa at the other end of the room.
Alice clicked on the WhatsApp tab of her laptop, touch-typing as she kept one eye fixed on Gerri through the glass divide.
Alice grabbed her handbag with one hand and pulled Nancy towards the elevator with the other, setting off towards the Starbucks on the corner that the four assistants had made their home away from home. The other set of assistants got there first, grabbing their usual table. The Kellman assistants picked up the coffees they had ordered ahead before taking their seats and filling the Roy assistants in on the situation.
“So, he’s away for coffee with her kid, what’s the big deal there?” Nick asked as the four assistants huddled around one of the circular tables in the corner of Starbucks. Emily had scolded him already for not checking who the Condé Nast contact was that had requested the meeting with Roman.
“You’ve clearly never met Lily Kellman,” Alice declared, catching the confused look on Emily’s face. “Think Miranda Priestly meets Tracy Lord,” she offered, doubting Nick would get either of the movie references as Emily cringed next to him, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“What you’re saying is she’s a hot bitch,” Nick decided, taking a sip of his black coffee. “Nick, buddy, you don’t stand a chance there - trust me,” Alice assured him with a knowing smirk, not failing to catch the glare Nancy had thrown the man’s way. If only Nancy could know that she had nothing to worry about there.
“She’s going to eat him alive,” Nancy hissed, eyes wide as she scanned the tables nearby in the hopes that there weren’t any Waystar employees within earshot. “Great, I’ll be talking him off a cliff the rest of the day,” Emily groaned into her coffee cup, wondering when she could ask for her next pay rise.
“You don’t think she’d tell them to break up, do you?” Nick asked, feeling guilty now for not double checking with Emily before putting the coffee meeting into Roman’s calendar. Alice let out a low whistle, “I wouldn’t put anything past her,” she confessed, knowing she wouldn’t be surprised if Lily killed him with the heel of her Louboutins.
The four sat in silence for a moment.
“What’s the deal with them? Gerri and Lily?” Nick questioned, looking towards the Kellman assistants for an answer. Emily leaned forward in her seat, the four of them sitting elbow-to-elbow around the tiny table. Nancy glanced at Alice, as if asking permission to speak. “It’s complicated,” Alice announced, her tone making it obvious that she wasn’t going to divulge any of Gerri’s secrets.
Gerri and Lily’s story wasn’t one for her to tell.
In another Starbucks across Manhattan, Roman sat waiting at one of the high tables by the window. He had checked the tracking on the order, cursing the universe for it arriving a few minutes after he had left the office. He had wanted to be there to watch the realisation show on Gerri’s face when she opened the box. Instead, he sat there slowly losing his mind imagining what her reaction might have been.
Had it been too much? Had he bought the right ones? What if Gerri didn’t like red as much as he thought she did? Had he bought the wrong sizes?
“Mr. Roy.”
A voice came from behind him before a blonde haired woman appeared, carrying an espresso cup in one hand as she moved around the high table. Roman took a second to look at her, elevator eyes flicking up and down. Definitely a Condé Nast girl with her JW Anderson midi dress and dainty gold jewellery.
“You’re Lily, right?” Roman asked, moving some of the things around on the table so that the woman could put her dark burgundy leather crossbody bag down next to her coffee. “That’s me,” the blonde replied, taking her sunglasses off as she got herself settled. “What can I do for Condé Nast?” he asked, part of him expecting to be asked to give an interview before the RECNY ball or in a worst case scenario about going onto some mid-ranking podcast that was only produced for the sake of getting TikTok content.
Roman waited for her to respond but nothing came for a moment. Something in the back of his mind shouted at him that things were off. “I’m afraid I’ve brought you here under false pretences, Mr. Roy,” she said, a manicured hand wrapped around her espresso cup as she looked at the man across the table.
Lily waited a beat.
“Do you really not recognise me? Though I suppose it has been over a decade since we last saw each other,” she revealed, red lips curling in a disbelieving smile.
The last time they had been in the same room was her father’s funeral. Roman had been dragged along for the sake of appearances. Hardly paying attention as a 16-year old held her little sister as they watched their father’s coffin being lowered into the ground. He could hardly remember seeing Gerri at the funeral - let alone the blonde girl who had held her as she sobbed into her shoulder, assuring her mother that “funerals are a freebie, you can cry, it’s okay” as Frank delivered the eulogy for his best friend.
“Lily Kellman,” she announced, holding a hand outstretched for him to shake, “I believe you’re dating my mother.”
The penny dropped and the colour drained from Roman’s face. He thought back to the pictures he had seen in Gerri’s apartment. The Dalton uniform. Her childhood braids. Posing in front of paintings as a little girl who still carried her teddy bear around with her.
Roman suddenly saw the woman across from him through a new set of eyes. She wasn’t just some industry contact - a potential link into one of the media world’s publishing giants. She was Gerri’s daughter. Her first born. The eldest of the two mysterious Kellman girls.
Lily reminded him of a young Catherine Devenue, her blonde blowout pushed back by a suede Alice band. Roman took a second to wonder if her hair was naturally straight or if she hid her mother’s curls behind layers of hairspray and hours spent battling with a Dyson Airwrap. He had clocked the Louboutins before he placed the golden locks. Either wealthy in her own right or with a sizable inheritance from Baird. Was she a lawyer like Gerri? Condé Naste was the sort of place that would pay their lawyers well - very well. That was if Lily even was a lawyer.
“How did you find out?” Roman asked, although he already knew the answer to his question. Shiv had twisted her little screwdriver again. “What game are you playing, Roman Roy?” Lily grilled, letting her coffee go cold in front of her. She had only bought it for the sake of appearances. “I’m not playing a game,” Roman insisted, even though he knew that as at least in part a lie.
“You’re making her look like a fool, Roman…” she warned, the headlines flashing in front of her eyes. The press would lap it up. The wayward youngest son of the media mogul and his controversially older girlfriend. It wouldn’t take much digging to draw up the links between the two families and spin a scandalous tale that was guaranteed to drive clicks and ad revenue through the roof. “Gerri could never look like a fool,” Roman protested with a shake of his head.
“Oh, you want to bet? You’re so oblivious to it all. You’re a straight man - of course, you’re oblivious to it all. You don’t get it. You don’t get how people are going to look at her now. They’re going to assume she’s only in it for the money and you’re only in it for some fucked up mommy kink. People on the street are going to look at you and ask if you’re her boytoy or her son. Fuck, Roman, you’re what - like twelve years older than me?” Lily pontificated, the high priestess at her altar passing judgement on the lesser man.
“Fourteen actually,” Roman corrected her, only because he remembered being dragged to her first birthday party the same week his parents officially got divorced. He had hidden in the study with the tortoise that he now knew to be Horus. Perhaps that was why the tortoise was the only thing he could remember about Baird - beyond him being Gerri’s husband.
“Look, I’ve got to be back at Condé Nast in 10 minutes, I just wanted to speak to you face-to-face,” Lily explained, part of her wanting to make him see her. Wanted to put some perspective on this whole fucked-up situation. In her mind, Roman was using her mother. Another Roy sucking the lifeblood of a Kellman in the name of self-preservation.
The fact she worked for Condé Nast triggered something in Roman’s memory. The stack of magazines in Gerri’s tote bag - all titles published by CN. Was that Gerri’s way of keeping tabs on Lily? Looking through the fine print for her daughter’s name.
“Where are you living?” Roman asked, curiosity getting the better of him. She certainly wasn’t living with Gerri and he would bet his apartment on the fact she had never stayed in any of the guest rooms either. “My girlfriend and I live on 76th street,” Lily revealed as she adjusted the strap of her Cartier tank, manicured nails fiddling with the clasp. Roman could tell she didn’t chip her nails the way Gerri did.
“Excuse me, backtrack a second, did you say girlfriend?” Roman repeated, as if a vinyl had just scratched on a record player. “ Seems we both have a thing for older women, Romey boy,” Lily poked, part of her suspecting it was one of the few things they had in common. Her eyes narrowed and Roman found himself once more thinking of Gerri.
The daughter of the stone cold killer bitch lived up to her mother’s reputation. If Gerri was Macbeth, Lily was Hera with her sly vengefulness, hidden beneath vixen eyes and beauty like a tightened bow.
But he wouldn’t let her walk over him. He wouldn’t let the daughter who refused to accept her mother’s phone calls come between them. Lily had as much say in their relationship - fake or real - as Shiv. Neither of their opinions mattered but he doubted Gerri felt the same way. That posed a problem.
“Lily, when was the last time you spoke to your mother?” Roman taunted, hand curled around his coffee mug as he threw the grenade. Lily pursed her lips and kissed her teeth, the same way Gerri did when Waystar would find themselves in the middle of another cruise-related lawsuit.
She didn’t know the answer to that question.
“Exactly, so get off your high horse,” Roman declared, glaring across the table at the younger woman. “I like - I care about your mom, I’m shit at this ‘expressing my feelings’ crap, but there’s no one more important than her,” he confessed, feeling the need to lay down the law with Lily.
“My father is probably rolling in his grave right now,” Lily hissed as she leaned across the table towards him, before she paused, tutting under her breath as she shook her head, “Actually he wouldn’t be surprised. The Kellmans always came after the Roys.”
That sentence was loaded with more than twenty years’ worth of resentment. Even Roman could see that.
Lily snatched her Celine bag off the table, popping her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “I may have a difficult relationship with my mother, Roman, but I know what’s best for her,” she insisted, opening her bag to dig out her phone. “I doubt that,” Roman rebuked, not moving from his seat on the high stool. “Ask yourself how this ends for her, really, do you think there’s any ending to this story where she isn’t heartbroken and humiliated?” Lily taunted, moving around the table to stand beside him, her Louboutins making her taller than him, even with the bar stool.
Another verbal slap across the face. Lily was as good at giving them as Gerri.
“Pleasure as always, Mr. Roy. Give your father my regards,” she mocked, sunglasses pushed into place. Roman’s fist hit the table as Lily’s heels echoed off into the distance.
Roman ended up walking back to Waystar. The fresh air made him think a little more rationally. While Lily no doubt had a point, she didn’t know her mother. Nothing in the apartment suggested to him that Lily was around often. He could think of one time that either of her daughters had been mentioned. None of the pictures in the apartment - or in Gerri’s office - looked recent. The woman he had met today was 16 or 17 at most in those pictures. Maybe Alice could enlighten him on what had happened. He knew better than to ask Gerri about it.
“Is she in?” Roman called across the executive floor as he got out of the elevator, catching sight of the four assistants huddled around Nancy’s desk with their iPhones in hand. “She’s got a meeting in 10 minutes,” Alice responded, knowing there was no point trying to stop him from just walking right into her boss’ office. “Good, I only need five,” he replied, already pressing down the handle of the door as he stepped over the threshold.
Gerri had picked most of the polish off her nails waiting for him to come back. She had paced across her office long enough to draw the attention of Kerry and Hugo across the executive floor before she forced herself to sit behind her desk again. A little mountain of nail polish chippings had been discreetly hidden under a legal pad before Roman came into the room.
“I just had coffee with your daughter,” Roman confessed, knowing there was no point hiding it from Gerri. “Oh, did you?” she questioned, playing the poker face she had perfected over the decades of working for Logan Roy. As if that coffee meeting hadn’t been the reason why she had been spiralling in her office for the last forty-five minutes.
“She’s a bitch, do you know that?” he exclaimed, deciding that the ‘Stone Cold Killer Bitch’ title had been handed down from mother to daughter. “I did raise her, so yes,” Gerri mused, wondering if Lily was a classic case of nurture vs. nature. But she knew what had happened with Lily. She had let it happen. Let the girl slip through her fingers.
Gerri didn’t have to ask what the conversation had been about - nor did she need to ask how it had gone. “You survived to tell the tale though,” she offered, knowing what it was like to go six rounds with Lily Kellman. “Remind me to steal Shiv’s dog or something,” he muttered, folding his arms as he leaned against the small meeting table across the room. Shiv had clearly been the one to tip Lily off.
His eyes flickered to the box across the room as he sought a way to break the tension. “Get any interesting packages today?” Roman asked, crossing one Prada loafer over the other as he leaned against the edge of the table. “Funny you say that, I did,” Gerri replied, putting on her best surprised voice, relieved that they seemed to have mutually agreed to brush Roman’s coffee with Lily under the rug. She’d deal with that mess later.
“Did you like them?” he asked, once again cursing Lily for being the reason he wasn’t there to see her reaction. Gerri flicked through a couple of pages in her legal pad, as though they were discussing her morning coffee and not the $2,500 worth of lingerie he had delivered to her office earlier that afternoon. “Well it wouldn’t be fair to comment on them until I give them a try, would it?” she teased, holding her pen between her teeth as she looked down the page for the notes she needed.
So she did like them. Roman knew her well enough to know it was why she couldn’t meet his eye. Because she knew he was picturing what she’d look like in them. All curled up in that bed that they had slept together in. He could picture that now. She knew that. The fantasy had been made a little more real because of the moments they had shared.
“You’ll give me a review won’t you, for science? Might need to be one of those hands-on experiments though,” Roman proposed, his fingers twitching as he thought of how that silk would feel under his skin.
“Well, the longer you’re bugging me, the longer it’s going to be until any of those experiments can happen,” Gerri warned, looking up at him over the top of her glasses as they dropped to the bridge of her nose. That look. The one she knew always managed to get Roman to stand to attention - in more ways than one. “Geez, Gerri, it’s like you’re just asking me to help you try them on,” Roman taunted, smirking to himself as he ran his tongue along his top lip, eyes fixed on her as he got the message and headed towards the door of his office.
Gerri looked back down at the box as Roman shut the door. She turned her phone over in her hand before going to the text thread at the top of her messages.
8pm. My place. Bring the usual.
Gerri’s TV screen flickered in black and white as she nursed her first martini of the evening. Katharine Hepburn poked her head through the railings of a police cell, Cary Grant in the one next to her as they tried to convince the older gentleman that they were hunting for a leopard. A familiar knock sounded at the door. She hit pause on the movie and walked across the lounge to open the front door.
“I got your SOS,” Karolina announced, walking into the apartment with a bottle of Belvedere in one hand and a bag of Sweetgreen takeout in the other. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see you,” Gerri declared, shutting the door behind the PR executive before she led the way into the open-plan lounge and kitchen.
“So, what happened now? Has Roman told Logan you’re getting married or something?” Karolina teased, taking the two salads from the takeout bag as Gerri handed her a set of cutlery before she started making her friend a martini. “Worse,” she replied, pouring the vodka into her measuring handle. Karolina braced herself, “Okay, hit me with it,” she said, popping herself down on one of the bar stools at the breakfast island. Maybe she should have foregone the healthy option and got them pasta instead.
Gerri pushed Karolina’s martini across the marble countertop before taking a sip of her own. “Roman had coffee with Lily today,” she announced, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island, nursing her martini. “Lily….wait, your Lily?” Karolina asked, eyes wide as she stopped her fork mid-way to her mouth. “Yep, my Lily,” Gerri confirmed, piercing the fork into her salad passive aggressively.
Lily Kellman could chew up Shiv Roy for lunch and make it look like child’s play. Youngest children were no match for eldest daughters. As much as Karolina would pay to see that, she doubted they could survive another round of Kellman vs. Roy.
“Well, she clearly didn’t kill him,” Karolina remarked, taking a sip of her martini as she mentally prepared herself for the rest of the evening. “I think he’s brushed the whole thing off, thankfully, but you know what Lily’s like when she gets the bit between her teeth,” Gerri complained, picking up her phone to text Alice to ask if she had managed to get a lunch date confirmed with Alice’s assistant. “I’m going to go and talk to her,” she added between forkfuls of salad.
Karolina bit her tongue to stop her from wishing her good luck. “How is everything going anyway with Roman?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. The entire Waystar Royco building was treating it like the scandal of the century. She was starting to become convinced that there were assistant group chats dedicated just to keeping track of all the rumours and speculation about them. The Kellman-Roy assistants had never been so popular. “Fine, we’re doing fine,” Gerri responded, forcing back another gulp of her martini as she tried not to think of the last time she had eaten at that kitchen counter. When Roman had surprised her pancakes and stole the strawberries from her takeout container as she threatened to castrate him. She touched her earring at the thought before looking up at her friend.
The PR executive wasn’t about to accept such a nonchalant response. She had seen them with her own eyes - the only other person who knew that this was all fake - but even to her it felt real. Karolina was about to speak when something caught her eye from the corner of the lounge. “Gerri, excuse me if this is a personal question -” she started, biting the corner of her lip. “Since when has that ever stopped you?” Gerri reminded her, taking another sip of her martini as she finished up her salad.
“When did you start shopping at La Perla?” Karolina asked, spotting the three branded boxes stacked on top of each other next to Gerri’s work bag. Gerri had meant to take them into her bedroom before Karolina arrived but had forgotten. “Technically I haven’t. They’re a gift,” she replied, picking up their empty takeout containers and turning towards the bin so that Karolina couldn’t see the blush that she could feel rising on the tops of her cheeks.
It didn’t take her long to put two and two together.
“Roman is shopping at La Perla for you?” Karolina questioned, mouth hanging open as she concluded that there was nobody else who would be dropping several hundred - if not thousands - of dollars on lingerie and nightwear for Gerri.
This all was more serious than she thought. No one goes around buying La Perla for their fake girlfriend - not even Roman Roy.
“The box showed up at the office this afternoon,” Gerri explained as she sat back down on the barstool, knowing that the list of questions her friend had was only growing longer by the minute. “How did - how did he get your measurements?” Karolina exclaimed, looking around the lounge as if she was expecting the man to come trailing out of the bedroom at any moment. “I’m pretty sure he was digging through my laundry the other night,” Gerri confessed as she topped up her drink, setting the jar of vermouth-infused olives Roman had bought her onto the middle of the counter.
Karolina shook her head as if checking in case she had water in her ears. “Wait, he stayed here?” she asked bewildered. She knew Gerri had been picking him up in the morning to give the allusion that they had spent the night together. Seemed that allusion was in fact the reality of the situation. “Oh, Lina, don’t look at me like that,” Gerri groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she waited for the inevitable lecture to start. “Did he sleep in the guest room?” Karolina poked, eyes bulging as her mind tried to process the situation.
There was no way this could still be classed as “fake dating.”
Gerri’s face told her the answer was no. “Fucking hell, Ger,” Karolina breathed with a shake of her head. She could see exactly how this was going to end. “Does he have a drawer here? Is that why you have stuff in your fridge? Should I call finance and get them to open a joint account or something?” she asked, her mind going a mile a minute as she glanced over at the La Perla boxes once more.
It wasn’t like he had bought her a bouquet of roses or a bottle of Dior perfume. He had bought her La Perla lingerie - about the most intimate thing you could buy a woman.
“Don’t even go there, Lina. It would never work,” Gerri insisted with a shake of her head, resisting the temptation to bang it against the marble countertop. “Why couldn’t it work, Gerri?” Karolina blurted, refusing to let the older woman simply draw a line under it all.
Gerri didn’t have an answer. Not one that stood up anymore. She could hardly say that Logan was a reason - not when the man had proclaimed them as Waystar’s Bill and Hillary. Any other Waystar related reason went out the window with that. Everyone had just accepted the idea of them being together - even with all the fuss and rumours.
What was stopping her? She didn’t know. It wasn’t anything she could verbalise at least. Perhaps it was the rational part of her mind that was shouting at her that this could only end in heartbreak and humiliation.
“I think you’re scared because you know it could work,” Karolina observed in a softer voice, reaching across to squeeze her friend’s shoulder. “Because you’re getting a glimpse of what life might be like on the other side,” she added, knowing that Gerri wouldn’t have let Roman into her most sacred of spaces unless she trusted him, unless she wanted him there.
“Wouldn’t now be the time to explore those feelings?” Karolina pressed, eyes fixed on her friend as she watched the gears turning in Gerri’s head. They had nothing to lose. They would simply be doing what everyone already assumed they were doing. Gerri still didn’t look convinced.
Karolina sighed before she picked up her martini glass, bringing it to her lips as she tilted her head back, downing the rest of the liquid in one clean tip of her glass. “I think you should just fuck him and get it over with,” she announced as she slammed her martini glass back down onto the kitchen aisle. “Is that your professional opinion as Head of PR or your personal opinion as my friend?” Gerri asked, slightly gobsmacked that the other woman had been so blunt about it.
“I think it’s both - actually,” Karolina admitted, well aware of the PR potential of the couple. The New York corporate set would eat it up as a ‘ playboy made good’ story and it would be easy to exploit it for some much needed positive press.
“What about you and Lucy?” Gerri questioned, needing to move the topic away from herself and Roman for a minute to let herself think. “God, can we not go there?” Karolina pleaded, getting off the bar stool to walk around and fix herself another drink. She had been avoiding going anywhere near the HR department - not an easy feat when you’re responsible for PR at an organisation as scandal-ridden as Waystar Royco. Plus her situationship was a million miles away from what Roman and Gerri were.
“Why don’t you “just fuck her and get it over with” to quote yourself back to you?” Gerri asked, batting her eyelashes before she jumped out of the way in time to narrowly miss the olive Karolina flung at her head. “Hey! Roman bought me those, don’t go throwing them around,” she scolded as she picked up the stray olive, earning another groan from Karolina as the woman shook her head. “Just let me know when I have to buy a hat,” she muttered, once more looking over at the La Perla boxes.
Karolina gave it a week - at most - before Gerri’s resolve would break.
Roman had spent the evening waiting by the phone. He had half expected Gerri to call him, to taunt him down the phone about how he didn’t deserve to see the lingerie he had spent more than the average monthly salary on. The radio silence meant he spent most of the evening trying not to think about his conversation with Lily. Her warnings kept going through his head . The idea of Gerri being heartbroken and humiliated at the end of all this. She wouldn’t be - not if he had his way, not if the plan he had worked.
He wondered if Gerri had tried on his gifts yet. She’d probably be wearing that blue satin nightgown with its low back and split skirt. Maybe he could talk her into wearing it the next time she took her Manolos to his hand. He knew those little thin straps would never be able to hang onto her shoulders. She’d be spending half her time fixing them before giving up on them entirely.
Roman reached for his phone and dialled the first number on his favourites tab as he walked towards his bedroom.
A few streets over, Gerri had already said goodnight to Karolina and changed for bed, lathering on her skincare like a nightly ritual to wash away the bad spirits. The nightgown had - unsurprisingly - been the perfect fit for her. The two lingerie sets were tucked away at the front of her drawer.
Gerri had to admit - Roman had done good. It was probably exactly what she would have picked out for herself, which just made her even more convinced that he had been rummaging through her drawers.
She had been about to go to sleep, adamant that she was going to leave Roman hanging a day or two, until his name flashed across her phone. Gerri tapped her nails against the side of her phone, letting it ring five times before accepting the call.
“Is Mr. Grant keeping you company instead of me tonight?” Roman asked when she answered the phone. He imagined she had probably gone home and put on one of her black and white movies. No doubt one with the esteemed Cary Grant in it. He figured by now that she had a soft spot for him. “He did actually but I’m just going to sleep, what do you want, Roman?” Gerri replied, phone pressed against her ear as she sank further into the bed, taking her rings off and dropping them onto the little dish beside her bed.
“What are you wearing?” he asked as he crossed the threshold into his own bedroom. Roman practically heard Gerri’s eye roll. “Nothing but La Perla, I suppose,” he taunted, hoping the lateness of the hour meant Gerri would be more likely to play ball. “Not exactly,” she mused. Gerri could hear his breathing through the phone, as if he was laying in the bed next to her - not at the bottom of it this time, but right beside her. “Nothing but La Perla and Chanel No5,” she corrected him.
“Did I do good?” Roman questioned, already deciding the $2,500 purchase had been worth it - just for the mental image alone. “You did… acceptably,” Gerri paused, her voice a little breathy now as she felt her heart pounding in her ears.
“That’s over $2,000 in fucking lingerie, Ger,” Roman protested, kicking his shoes off as he dropped down onto his bed, imagining her on the other end as she walked barefoot around her bedroom. He knew what her bedroom looked like now. Knew what it felt to lay in the same bed as her - even if it hadn’t exactly been side by side. Could recall every detail of her face against the satin pillowcases. He could clearly picture what she looked like right now on the other end of the phone - as if was standing at the foot of the bed once more, looking at her curled up under the covers.
Somehow that only made it worse.
“And…” Gerri said, doing her best to sound unimpressed by his gift, as much as she might secretly have been impressed by his ability to choose sets that matched her taste. Two thousand dollars was to Roman Roy what the cost of a morning espresso was to most New Yorkers. An insignificant amount that he wouldn’t notice missing in his bank account.
It was only fair that he got a thank you note.
“Can I - can I have a picture?” Roman tried, part of him fearing that Gerri would simply hang up the phone and his weeks of work would go down the drain. He closed his eyes as he stopped hearing Gerri’s breathing on the other end of the phone. He had fucked up, hadn’t he?
Gerri tapped her nails against the side of her iPhone. Maybe it was the martinis going to her head or the softness of the Italian silk against her skin, but it didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. It certainly wasn’t as bad as sleeping with him. Everyone probably assumed this was something they always did - like any other couple.
She put the phone on speaker as she pulled it away from her ear, watching as the front camera showed her reflection.
Her face wasn’t in the picture. Some sort of plausible deniability. It could be any blonde in New York with a La Perla nightdress hanging in her closet - but Roman would know it was her. In the nightdress he had picked out for her. He’d recognise the silk pillow and white sheets half-hidden beneath the blonde hair she had pushed out of the way to give him a better view of the curve of her neck and the left side of her chest.
Roman opened his eyes again as he heard the text message ping, pulling his phone away from his ear. She could hear the intake of breath from the other end of line as he opened the picture. Followed by the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle coming un-done, leather moving against cotton as he pulled down the zipper of his trousers.
But she wouldn’t give him everything that he wanted. Not tonight.
“Sweet dreams, Rome.”
Gerri hung up the phone, letting it fall onto the pillow beside her. She curled up on her side as she looked down towards the bottom of the bed where Roman had slept only a few nights ago.
Maybe Karolina had been right. She should just fuck him and get it out of her system. But when had anything ever been as straightforward as that?
Chapter Text
Roman’s driver picked him up promptly at 8:15am. The earliest pick-up time he had ever had with the rare exception of an early morning flight. “I see the missus is instilling some good habits into you at your old age,” Fredrick observed as his passenger got into the back seat, two Starbucks cups already in hand. “Don’t call her that to her face,” Roman warned him, doubting Gerri would take being called his “missus” very well. Even if it was Fredrick saying it in his smooth Home Counties accent. “I’ll be as silent as a mouse,” the driver promised, having already been briefed about the controversy around Gerri’s former driver. He had been shuffled over to become Karl’s driver, moved away from the woman he had almost certainly taken a bribe to spy on.
The car pulled up outside Gerri’s apartment complex ten minutes later, the door opening almost as soon as the car came to a stop. “Nice to see you’re on time for once,” Gerri acknowledged by way of greeting as she passed her bag over to him before getting in. “That’s what happens when you give me an incentive to be on time,” Roman reminded her with a knowing tap of the iPhone in his lap as he handed her over her no-foam skimmed latte.
Gerri pursed her lips as the car pulled away, refusing to let the colour turn in her cheeks. She knew now more than ever that she had lost the plot. Completely. Maybe it was some form of mid-life crisis. But that little voice was still rattling around her head.
What harm could it do?
“ Trust you slept well,” she taunted, eyes fixed on her phone, though she could feel him smirking in the seat next to her as she sipped on her coffee. “Second best night’s sleep I’ve had this week,” Roman replied, putting it just marginally below the night he had spent at Gerri’s apartment. Perhaps he could float the idea of staying over again tonight.
After all, they had appearances to keep up.
A Google Calendar invite popped up on Gerri’s phone, the screen flashing back to life. ‘Lunch at Balthazar @ 3pm’ with Saturday’s date attached. The invite had come from Lily’s assistant rather than her own email, but it was at least an olive branch. She tapped the accept button and watched it slot into her calendar as if Saturday brunch was a regular occurrence for the Kellman girls. Maybe in another - less complicated - life.
Roman’s voice broke her train of thought.
“Blue or red?” Roman poker, looking at her over the lid of his Starbucks coffee. Gerri threw him a blank expression. “What are you talking about, Roman?” she replied coyly, knowing exactly what he was asking the colour of. “Come on, Ger, you know what I’m talking about. The red or blue set?” he quizzed, leaning forward as if expecting to be given a tease worthy of a Burlesque star.
Gerri glanced towards the front of the car to the back of the driver’s head. Fredrick had been Roman’s driver for the last five years. At least according to the HR file she had managed to get Karolina to swipe for her from Lucy. He could be trusted - at least for now. She didn’t know whether she’d trust him to hold his nerve if one of Logan Roy’s little ravens came with a stack of hundred dollar bills asking for information on them.
Fredrick met her eye through the rear-view mirror. “I’m not here, Ms. Kellman,” he assured her, before returning his attention to the road ahead of him. A second later and the radio jumped to life, clearly to give the passengers the illusion of some sort of privacy. Gerri tightened the grip on her phone. Fredrick was around Frank’s age, likely on his last assignment before a well-earned retirement and she knew Roman paid him far more than any of the Waystar drivers got as his personal chauffeur. But anyone could be bought. Everything had a price. A price Logan Roy could always pay.
“The girls said that Kerry has been hanging around our offices,” Gerri announced, earning a groan from Roman as he kicked his feet out, stretching in the backseat of the Aston Martin DBX. “What do you want me to do with the Wicked Witch of the West? Throw a pail of water over her?” Roman asked with a shrug, preferring not to think about the fourth potential Mrs. Logan Roy. Kerry had - up until a few weeks ago - been merely a background character for him. Now she was chunking fertility shit into his dad’s smoothies and trying to position herself as some would-be Wendi Deng to his Rupert Murdoch.
“Let’s not go giving her anything else to report back to your father,” Gerri warned, having little doubt in her mind that Kerry was in cahoots with Hugo and trying to dig up information for Logan.
“Soo….” Roman said, hands turning in a spinning motion to tell her to continue. “So no more La Perla packages to the office, please,” she told him, rolling her eyes as he gave her his best attempt at sad puppy dog eyes.
The last thing they needed was for his shopping haul to be the latest rumour around the executive floor. That would be humiliation for her. The very idea of their colleagues talking about something like her lingerie. Nope. She wasn’t going to let that happen - as thrilling as it had been to open that box with her office in full view through the glass partitions. Anyone could have seen her. Alice had clocked that there was something up with it.
“Fine, we’ll just go in person next time,” he compromised. Roman had already decided he was buying her that silk nightgown in every colour. Even if it was $1000 a pop. He’d tell his business manager it was an investment if the man decided to quiz him on the American Express charges.
The car rolled to a stop outside the Waystar Royco building and Roman jumped out of the backseat, buttoning up his suit jacket as he walked around the back of the car. Gerri opened her door, passing out her bag for him to take before stepping out.
“Are you really not going to give me a hint?” Roman asked, holding his arm out for her to take. A quick glance down at her feet told him she was wearing another pair of her Manolos. Gerri glared at him over the top of her glasses, “Down, boy,” she scolded, giving his arm a squeeze as they crossed the lobby towards the elevator. Several of the paralegals were standing outside the middle elevator as the metal doors opened before one of the blonde haired women cleared her throat, drawing the group’s attention towards the couple who were now within earshot.
“Mr. Roy, Ms. Kellman, we’ll take the next one,” she smiled, the gaggle stepping to the side to let them through. Roman smirked to himself as the paralegals scurried out of the way, parting like the Red Sea to let Gerri stride straight through into the open elevator.
The doors shut and the gaggle’s hushed whispers became muffled background noise. “God, they really do think you’re a bitch,” Roman whistled slowly, wondering what she had done to put the fear of God into the paralegals - or perhaps they had simply been frozen to the spot at the challenge of taking up Gossip Girl duties. He imagined every assistants group chat was lighting up with a message at that very moment.
“At least I know different though,” he offered, thinking back to that moment in her bedroom when she had told him she wasn’t made of stone. That she wasn’t the “stone cold killer bitch” he had proclaimed her to be.
“Castration, Roman,” Gerri reminded him, keeping her attention focused on the elevator doors as they headed up to the top floor. She’d be better off with an actual puppy. At least they’d be able to perform a few entertaining tricks.
“Can you do it with one of your Manolos?” Roman requested, the fingers of his right hand pinching the skin she had stepped on in designer heels before Logan’s party. He was still living off the memory of that alone. The pinch of pain as the stiletto pierced down on his skin. How Gerri’s voice had changed pitch, going a little higher as though she hadn’t seen him on his knees at her feet. As if he simply belonged there, pleading for a scrap of attention.
Stomp .
“OUCH , what was that for?” Roman hissed, the stiletto of Gerri’s right shoe having come down hard on the toe box of his Prada Oxfords. There was a clear dent in the front of the otherwise shiny shoe where Gerri had delivered her blow. She folded her arms as the lights above their head flashed the floor numbers, getting closer to their final destination. “You’re being incorrigible again,” she warned him, eyes flickering up to where the security camera was inside the elevator.
“That was hot though, G-Spot,” Roman breathed as the elevator reached the top floor with a ‘ding’ that echoed around the metal box. He just needed her to aim that stiletto somewhere between his hands and feet.
“Roman, to answer your earlier question,” Gerri began as the elevator doors heaved open, relieved that there was no one standing outside waiting to go down. She stepped forward, one foot out of the elevator before she turned back to look at Roman. “Red,” Gerri replied, half tempted to show him the satin bra strap just to prove it - but there were too many people around for something as risky as that. Roman froze inside the metal box, elevator eyes looking at Gerri through a new lens as she stood on the other side of the doors. Under that black cashmere wrap dress Gerri was wearing was several hundred dollars worth of La Perla pressed against her skin. He had never been so jealous of a piece of clothing before.
The elevator doors closed again before Roman regained his ability to think, sending him travelling back down to the lobby as Gerri walked off to her office. She had to stop doing that. It wasn’t helping the thoughts that seemed to constantly circle around her mind. The thought of pressing the sole of her Manolos into his crotch or putting her stiletto into his face, keeping him a leg’s length away from what he wanted.
Roman had eventually managed to get himself back up to the executive floor, where an irritated Emily had met him at the elevator door and high-tailed him off to a meeting in one of the conference rooms. It had been an altogether normal day for Waystar’s Interim CEO - morning elevator shenanigans aside - until lunchtime came around and an international call came through.
Gerri did a double take of the name flashing across her phone screen. Madeline Kellman with a picture of the brunette haired girl on a jet ski, grinning at the camera as she stuck out her tongue at the person taking her picture.
“Madeline,” Gerri answered, pressing her phone to her ear. She only hoped it hadn't been a misdial and that Maddie really was at the other end of the line.
“Sorry, Mom, the boat has like zero service at the minute and my phone died yesterday so it’s taken until now for me to get somewhere to charge it,” Madeline greeted, the background noise of voices talking around her making Gerri turn her phone volume up as she put it on speaker. “Hey, kiddo. Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad to hear your voice,” Gerri admitted, fidgeting with the gold coin at the end of her bracelet as she listened to the rustling on the other end. “So, what’s up? I had like fifteen missed calls from you and Lils,” Madeline asked, cutting straight to the point - like she always did.
Gerri turned her head to look out of the glass partition to where Roman was standing talking to Nick and Emily in the middle of the floor. Had Lily told Maddie already? Probably not. If there was one thing she knew about Lily it was that she’d always protect Madeline from the harsh reality of the Waystar Royco world. “I guess we both just miss you, when are you going to be back?” she questioned, picking the phone up as she headed towards the windows on the other side of her office. Anything to look away from the Waystar Royco bubble.
Madeline sighed on the other end of the phone and Gerri wondered for a second if she had heard the familiar click of a glass beer bottle being opened. “I don’t know, Mom, I think we’re going to head to Venice next week, Florence maybe, potentially Milan - might just rent one of those little vintage Fiats and go around touring vineyards,” she mused, chuckling to herself, her voice taking on a sing-song quality.
At least Madeline was happy. She could take some comfort in that.
“Your dad would have liked that,” Gerri acknowledged, looking down at the streets below as she thought of how Baird used to talk about touring Europe when he’d retired. How he used to promise he’d take her to learn how to make pasta in some quaint little Italian village. How he told her his dream was to buy a little boat to sail down the French Riviera in - just the two of them.
Madeline had set out to tick every little thing off her father’s bucket list.
There was a pause. Whispered voices muffled by what Gerri assumed was Madeleine’s hand coming over her phone’s speaker. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing where her youngest daughter might be. Half a world away and oceans apart.
“Mom, are you sure everything is okay?” Nancy asked in a low voice, as if she didn’t want to be overheard by someone nearby. “Yes, everything’s fine, Maddie, don’t fret,” Gerri promised, taking the kinder option of telling the white lie that would keep Madeline happy. That would keep her youngest daughter as carefree as she had once been at that age.
“Look, I’ve got to run because I need to get the quad bike back before dinner,” Madeline confessed, the rustling at the other end of the phone made Gerri assume she was walking along a stone path somewhere. She was probably by the beach watching the sunset. There was a low wailing in the background that reminded Gerri of the breeze by the seaside. Definitely on the coast then. Almost certainly on a little Greek island in the Aegean.
Exactly where Baird would have wanted her to be - and far, far away from the reaches of Waystar Royco and its associated villains.
“Call when you’re settled somewhere, maybe we can facetime? I’ve not seen your face in…” Gerri paused. When was the last time she had seen Madeline’s face? Her youngest hadn’t been in New York since Christmas but there had been at least a facetime or two in the succeeding eight-month period. But when was the last time she had seen Madeline’s face through something other than her Instagram feed or WhatsApp profile picture?
There was a shout in the background on the other end. A man’s voice calling Madeline’s name. The hushed whispers sounded as if Maddie was trying to wave him off for a moment. “I’ve got to run, Mom. I’ll let you know when I get to my next location. Bye!” Madeline said in a hurried voice, an engine springing to life as the phone line went dead.
“Ma-” Gerri started, but the call had already ended. The blank screen stared back at her, as if taunting her over the emptiness of her nest. She closed her eyes for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself as she replayed the phone call over in her head again.
“Everything okay?” Roman asked, his head popping around the door that he had pushed slightly ajar. Gerri turned around to look at him, catching the concerned expression on his face. There was no such thing as privacy in an office with walls made almost exclusively out of glass. Logan always did like to watch his animals in their cages. “I was just talking to Madeline,” she explained, raising the phone in her hand before walking back towards her desk.
“Tell me she’s not as much of a bitch as your other one,” Roman pleaded, not sure he could cope with two miniature Gerri Kellmans with a claim to the “Stone Cold Killer Bitch” title. Gerri chuckled at that. “No, Madeline and Lily are like day and night. She’s riding a quad bike around some Greek island I think and Lily is probably closing a $10 million advertising deal,” she acknowledged, sitting back down at her desk as Roman walked around it, taking his usual spot leaning against the side of the desk she was sitting at.
The almost six-year age gap between Madeline and Lily had manifested itself in two sisters with contrasting personalities. Ms. Conde Nast and the explorer. The overprotective big sister and the little girl she had treated like her personal Barbie doll.
“Well, I hope one of them doesn’t want to kill me,” Roman pondered, eyes fixed on Gerri’s face as he tried to get a read on her. It was obvious that something was getting to her and he’d bet his apartment that it was her daughters. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked, starting to hatch a plan together. “I have a date with Mr. Gable, if you must know,” Gerri announced, having already decided that evening would be spent curled up under a blanket in front of the TV and ignoring her problems. “Right, don’t put anything into your schedule,” he told her, already making his way towards the door. “What is that meant to mean?” Gerri called, rolling her eyes as Roman simply waved her off with his hand as the door shut behind him.
Roman sat in his office waiting for the familiar head of blonde hair to pop up across the executive floor. It took until after 4pm for her to show up, a bundle of legal pads in one arm and a coffee in the other. He crossed the executive floor towards her, calling his name.
“Alice. Ali. Ace. That’s a good nickname for you. Ace - do you want a nickname like that?” Roman asked with a click of his fingers in Alice’s face as he slotted himself on top of her desk next to a stack of Gerri’s paperwork. “Roman, what do you want?” Alice whined, putting her coffee down onto the desk as she did her best to try and go about her work as if Roman wasn’t invading her space. “Who says I want anything?” he asked, picking up the miniature Eiffel Tower that sat on her desk, moving it from hand to hand.
Alice tilted her head down as she glared at him, snatching the miniature model from his hand. She had clearly learnt that look from Gerri. The unwavering glare of the goddess.
“How well do you know Gerri’s daughters?” Roman asked, folding his arms as he glanced over the top of Alice’s head and into Gerri’s office. She must have sensed him looking at her cause Gerri raised her head, giving him a Mona Lisa smile before returning to her work. “Roman, it’s really not my place to tell you anything about Gerri’s daughters,” Alice insisted, switching Roman’s attention back to her.
“You and Lily are the same age, right? You’ve been working for Gerri for ages as well,” Roman observed, knowing that while Gerri had been a little off since his dad’s party, it had only gotten worse after his meeting with Lily. “They were on the rocks before I started interning for Gerri, long before I was even her second assistant let alone her first,” Alice revealed, turning her head away from him to start typing on her laptop, hoping that he would get the message and leave her alone.
“What happened, Alice?” Roman pressed, not knowing how he was meant to navigate the situation. “It’s not my place to tell you,” Alice groaned, a hand coming back to fix her French twist before she gave in a little, “But trust me, Lily was never going to accept the idea of you and Gerri.”
She had only ever heard Gerri’s side of the phone calls with her daughters. Alice had never met either of them beyond emailing or texting to try to get them a slot in their mother’s schedule - but Gerri had told her enough to let her put the pieces together.
“At least without something drastic happening,” she added a moment later. Alice imagined such a thing would involve Logan Roy dropping dead and meeting the same fate as Baird Kellman. “Why?” Roman asked, part of him knowing he’d have to find a way to get the younger woman on side within the next five weeks. He reckoned it would be easier to tame a Cobra than get Lily Kellman to like him.
Alice glanced towards the office at the other end of the floor, peering in at Kerry and Logan as they talked by the window. “You Roys are public enemy number one for her,” she concluded, drawing a line under that part of the conversation. Alice had already said too much.
Roman stood from the desk, once more looking through the glass partition at Gerri as she worked. “Do you know what’s up with Gerri at the minute?” he asked, knowing he had contributed to whatever was wrong. After all, it was his fault they were stuck in this situation. Not that he thought they were stuck - rather the opposite - but Gerri went hot and cold on him at a moment’s notice. As if trying to catch herself before she fell.
Alice raised an eyebrow again, her lips still sealed.
“Right. Secret keeper number one. Got it,” Roman muttered, deciding he’d have to do most of the talking for this conversation. “She’s off about something, I’m guessing it’s her daughters. I want to cheer her up but I’m not sure –” he continued, knowing that it would take something more personal than an extravagant gift with a $1,000 price tag to help.
Alice seemed to finally take pity on him. “Pasta, buy her pasta. It’s like her ultimate comfort food,” she told him, thinking of all the late nights spent working in Gerri’s office that had almost always ended with pasta and wine being delivered. “There’s this little place off 42nd street that she took Nancy and I to once, she knows the owner and everything,” Alice revealed, tapping away on her phone screen to find the restaurant’s details, screenshotting the menu and cropping it to match Gerri’s order.
That would do it.
It would show Gerri that he could do the small gestures along with the big. That he wasn’t as superficial to think that LaPerla and Manolo were a way of buying her affection.
“All I’m saying is you owe me, Roman,” Alice insisted, returning once more to her laptop screen. “I’ll give you thirty minutes with my AmEx,” Roman offered, preparing to dig around his blazer pocket for his wallet. “Give Emily next weekend off and put Nick on standby. We’re going to brunch and I’d like her to actually be able to relax for once,” she compromised, having gotten fed up with Emily always being on stand-by over the weekends and inevitably finding herself cleaning up Roman’s messes.
“Emily. Weekend off. Consider it done,” Roman declared, clapping his hands together before offering his right one out for Alice to shake. She shook his hand before waving him away. It was only when Roman headed back into his office that she realised Nick wasn’t at his desk.
That was odd. There was always meant to be one of the assistants on the desk when Roman was in. She clicked the trackpad on her laptop, bringing up her WhatsApp tab.
Nick nursed his whisky between his hands as his phone started to ding, the screen flashing up to illuminate his face in the little coffee shop he had come to for his meeting. It was a good twenty-minute walk from the Waystar Royco office. Far enough away to lower the risk of someone recognising him and feeding it back up the gossip chain.
“Why are you doing this, Nick? It’s not like you need the money,” Hugo asked, putting his whisky glass down as he sat across from Roman’s 2nd assistant. He had been surprised when Nick had asked if he could meet for drinks and even more shocked when he found out why he had wanted to speak. It hadn’t taken long for Hugo to make the offer.
$100,000 in exchange for information. A mere token of Logan’s thanks.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m the one who is going to get fucked over here,” Nick exclaimed, his phone dinging once more before he put it on ‘do not disturb’ mode. The last thing he needed was to see Nancy or Emily’s face pop up on his phone screen. Not now. Not when he was doing this.
“Any promotions are going to Alice and Nancy,” Nick said, feeling a pang of guilt in his heart at dragging Nancy into all of this, “They’re like a second set of daughters to Gerri. Heck, they probably are closer to her than her actual daughters. I should be the one getting a leg up, not them.”
It wasn’t a lie that Alice and Nancy would be first in line for promotions. Followed promptly by Emily as Roman’s first assistant and then him - the little rich boy at the bottom of the pile.
Hugo seemed satisfied by that. “I believe this is the start of a mutually helpful partnership, young Nick,” he proclaimed, holding his hand out for Nick to shake. He felt a pit in his stomach as he shook Hugo’s hand. Was this what it felt like to sell your soul to the devil? To become one of Logan Roy’s hound dogs.
Nick gulped down his whisky, letting it burn the back of his throat in punishment for what he had done. He hoped it left a trail of sores down his throat, hoped the after taste lingered for days on end.
But he had no other choice than to do this. Someone had to do it. He might as well be the one to fall on their sword. So long as the girls didn’t find out. So long as Nancy didn’t find out. She’d probably castrate him for what was planning to do.
“So, you said something about one of Gerri’s daughters?” Hugo asked, opening the notes section of his phone. “Roman met her yesterday, Gerri freaked out when she found out. I don’t think it went very well,” Nick began, recounting the events of the previous few days for the man sitting opposite him. The shadows of the dim coffee shop couldn’t conceal his guilt as he watched Hugo document everything he was saying into the note section of his phone.
He could only hope that somehow the girls would understand. That Nancy would let him explain about flying off the handle. That they would realise that this had to be done.
Roman waited until Gerri had left the office, her new Waystar driver taking her back to the apartment. “Ace!” He shouted across the executive floor, ears pricking up as he heard muttered cursing from the other side of the open planned space. “You don’t need to shout, Roman,” Alice warned in a tone of voice that once again reminded him of Gerri. He got to her desk in time to see her wiping up the iced coffee she must have spilled when he shouted her new nickname at her. “Gerri. Wine. What does she drink?” he asked, stopping by her desk.
Alice glanced up at him as she threw the damp paper towels into the nearby bin. “How do you not know what wine your girlfriend drinks?” she asked, the irritation clear in her voice. No one had been able to find Nick and something about the whole thing had set her on edge. Part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a dark cloud on the horizon, just waiting to sneak up on them.
But the question was still a fair one. Yet Roman couldn’t think of a time he saw Gerri pouring a glass of wine or ordering a bottle at dinner. It had always been martinis with them. That was their thing. Their metaphorical olive branch to each other.
“Cause she drinks martinis like it’s sparkling water and tonight’s a school night,” Roman reminded the assistant, knowing it hardly qualified as a white lie. But when had “it’s a school night” ever stopped them before? This didn’t feel like the sort of evening that called for martinis. He wanted to cheer Gerri up or give her someone to scream at if that’s what she needed to start feeling better.
Alice eventually gave in. “Get a bottle of Louis Jadot chardonnay,” she told him, picking up her Longchamp bag to start packing up for the night. Nancy and Emily had already left to go looking for Nick. “Thanks, Ace!” Roman called, already making his way towards the elevator to put his plan together. He just hoped Gerri hadn’t decided to invite Karolina over again. The PR Executive had spent most of the day throwing him knowing looks and asking if he was getting enough sleep.
He’d make a point of cornering Karolina about all that another day.
Gerri rarely smoked these days. Even then it was hardly anything compared to during her 20s and early 30s. She had stopped when she found she was pregnant with Lily - went cold turkey the moment those two little lines showed up on that test. Somehow managed to do without a cigarette out of sheer stubbornness for 17-years. Until Baird died and she went digging around the desk in his at-home office for the lighter and box of cigarettes she knew had been gathering dust there for more than a decade.
Since then she had only reached for her cigarettes on the days when it all became too much. When she needed something to ground her - to force her feet firmly on the floor to stop her doing something irrational. Tonight was one of those nights.
Gerri pulled the cigarette from her lips, letting out a breath as she sank into the rattan armchair on her balcony, looking out across the New York skyline as the lights twinkled in the distance.
Everything was a mess. Lily seemed further away than ever. Madeline was halfway around the world. And Roman….
The situation with Roman seemed both more straightforward and complicated all at once. She could take Karolina’s advice and see where it went from there. But Gerri wasn’t foolish enough to think that it could be a one-time thing. He had gotten under her skin. Had somehow managed to wiggle his way into every corner of her life - even her bedroom. Could they ever actually work?
It was one thing to play pretend and steal flirtatious moments in elevators and towncars - even to be sending each other pictures and for her Manolos to be becoming increasingly familiar with different parts of his body. Gerri still wasn’t convinced a real relationship of some form could work. Not without sacrifices. Ones that would almost certainly involve their positions at Waystar - no matter what Logan might have wax lyrical about. They weren’t Bill and Hillary. She’d have buried Roman long before a Monica Lewinsky could have shown up.
A knock sounded from the front of the apartment. His knock. Their little secret code for each other. Chopin’s Funeral March. Another inside joke no one else would get. Gerri tapped her cigarette against the ashtray on the table next to her before heading back inside, closing the balcony door as she went.
She didn’t want to know how Roman had managed to get by the security downstairs. Perhaps it might be easier if she gave him a key. Just for the four weeks or so that were left of his charade. Like most things, her front desk probably assumed he had a key. The gossip train didn’t stop at Waystar Royco. No, it had a special stop at her own apartment complex.
“I brought dinner,” Roman announced, lifting the takeout bag up above his shoulders as Gerri opened the door, “And wine.” If Alice was right about her recommendations, he’d call up HR himself and get her a job in whatever Waystar Royco department she wanted. Heck, he’d let her present ATN if that’s what she wanted to do. He’d rather have her in the presenter’s chair than Kerry.
“Is that…” Gerri began, clocking the familiar looking takeout bag. “Your favourite pasta, yes you’d be correct,” Roman replied, side stepping around her to walk into the apartment, dropping the bag down onto the kitchen island before he started rummaging around for plates and wine glasses. It was then that he clocked Gerri’s outfit.
“Interesting PJs, Gerri-Berry,” Roman observed, setting down two wine glasses as he opened the bottle. Gerri had skimmed over the La Perla nightdress in favour of a silk camisole and trousers with a black silk dressing gown offering her arms at least some shelter from the late summer breeze. Far more revealing than the modest matching silk PJs he had seen her wear at Tern Haven, but nothing compared to the nightdress he had bought her. An in-between outfit that reflected her conflicting thoughts on their situation.
One foot in and one foot out - not able to commit. Not willing to fall. Not just yet.
Their dinner had been relatively relaxed. Huddled around the kitchen island with their pasta and wine as she told Roman about Maddie’s call and he confessed to Alice helping him with some insider information on Gerri’s comfort food. “I’m just going to get some fresh air on the bedroom balcony,” Gerri said when she finished her food, not missing Roman’s disappointment as she set off down the hallway towards the bedroom.
She picked up her cigarette and lighter from where she had left them on her bedside table, stopping along the way to turn the record player back on. One of her old vinyls - the sleeve dogeared beyond recognition - spun around in the machine before the room filled with Bellini’s Casta Diva.
Gerri lit the cigarette, holding it between her lips as she pushed open the balcony doors. It was one of those rare nights where the universe aligned in just the right way for the stars to be clear in the New York sky. The shiny little atoms twirling in the sky that bled midnight blue.
Of course, tonight of all nights would have a starry sky. It felt a little as though the universe was choosing to mock her at that moment.
Roman stepped out onto the balcony with two wine glasses in hand a few minutes later, finding Gerri curled up on the rattan seat with a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other. Since when did Gerri smoke? It seemed like just another thing to add to the list of impossible things that seemed to be true about her.
“When did you start smoking?” Roman asked, putting his fingers out to pull the cigarette from between her lips, bringing it to his own and inhaling. “Before you were even born,” Gerri revealed, thinking of the first cigarette she had stolen from her brother’s backpack when she was 16 years old and tired of seeing her older brothers having all the fun.
She took a sip of her wine before taking back her cigarette, nodding her head towards the box that sat on the little round table. “You can help yourself to one,” Gerri acknowledged, heading towards the trailing of the balcony. “I’d rather steal yours,” Roman confessed, following her towards the edge, their elbows touching as they looked out at the hustle and bustle of New York.
Neither of them said anything for a minute or two, the record player acting as white noise in the background.
“Are you okay?” Roman asked, once more wondering if everything was becoming too much for her. Lily’s words echoed back in his ears - ‘heartbroken and humiliated’. Was that how this whole thing was destined to end?
“Just looking at the stars,” Gerri shrugged, taking another drag of her cigarette before turning away from the skyline, heading back to the chair she had been curled up in before.
But it was more than that. There was something there that Roman couldn’t put his finger on. A yearning he couldn’t understand. Gerri sniffled and for a moment he thought there was a tear rolling down her face, disappearing as it trailed down a porcelain cheek before dropping onto her chest, soaking into her skin.
He glanced around for something to talk about to distract her. Anything to get her to focus on something other than whatever internal monologue was bringing out the waterworks. His ears registered the music in the background again.
“You know - that opera music - what’s the deal with it?” Roman asked, listening to the words - were they Italian? - floating through from Gerri’s bedroom and onto the balcony. It was the second time he had heard her listening to opera music. There was clearly a connection there. Another item on the list of things he didn’t know about her.
“You don’t know Callas?” Gerri asked, tapping her cigarette into the ashtray on the little round table beside her. Stupid question. Roman Roy wasn’t the sort of guy who went around listening to dead opera singers - even if they were Maria Callas.
Roman drew a blank face. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say she’s an opera singer,” he shrugged, walking around to stand behind Gerri’s chair, plucking the cigarette from between her fingers. Her lipstick stained the cigarette the same way it did her martini glasses.
“She was an opera singer and she taught your “stone cold killer bitch” of a fake girlfriend how to feel,” Gerri revealed, the word ‘fake’ felt weird on her tongue. This didn’t feel fake but it wasn’t entirely real either. They were stuck in some eternal form of purgatory, doomed to go around in circles until someone broke the wheel and jumped. Free fall head first without any fear of what the future might hold.
“But it’s not in English and I know your Italian or whatever isn’t close to fluent,” Roman continued, glad that the topic at least appeared to be distracting Gerri from whatever spiral she had been about to go off into. “Operas aren’t usually in English, Rome, that’s part of the magic,” she insisted, her mind going back to the first time Baird had taken her to the opera. It had been his thing long before it had ever been hers. The record currently spinning around in her vinyl player was the first gift he had ever bought her. A vinyl of Maria Callas’ signature roles; Norma, Medea, Tosca, Violetta, and the list went on.
“But how do you know what they’re singing about?” Roman asked, still struggling to understand how she could listen to someone sing in a language she didn’t understand.
Gerri got up and walked through the balcony doors and into her bedroom, beckoning him to follow her inside. She stopped at the old vinyl player, adjusting the volume as she shrugged out of her dressing gown, letting it fall to the ground near the foot of the bed. Roman threw her a low wolf whistle and she rolled her eyes as he put out the cigarette they had been sharing.
“Lay down,” she told him, a hand one on hip as the other pointed towards her bed. “Jesus, Ger, if you wanted to fuck me you just had to ask,” Roman reminded her as he kicked off his Prada loafers - the little dent from that morning still visible - before he dropped down on top of the memory foam mattress. “Roman,” Gerri warned, folding her arms as she looked down at him from the bottom of the bed. “Okay, geez, I’ll behave,” he groaned, sinking into the pillows and the Egyptian cotton under him.
Gerri kicked off her slippers before laying down next to him, her head level with his. “Just close your eyes and let everything go, listen to the music,” she told him, hands flat by her side on top of the duvet as she turned her head to look at him. Roman stared back at her. “Close your eyes,” she repeated, a whine slipping into her tone. “And think of England?” Roman asked with a raised eyebrow, his hand catching Gerri’s wrist as she reached out to slap his arm.
A distinctive clicking noise told Gerri the next song was about to play.
Then the first note came.
Puccini’s Tosca. Vissi d'arte.
An eleventh-hour prayer made in vain. The universe was playing another wicked trick by playing that song then. Tosca’s lament about the two great purposes of her life; her art and her love. All while Scarpia looms in the shadows behind her, waiting to claim his prize. Waiting to claim her. The injustice of it all. An unresponsive God. The anguish and hate bubbling together like the silent rage that sat in every woman’s heart.
Roman opened his eyes as he heard Gerri sniffle next to him, his hand still locked around her wrist as the tears returned to her cheek. Maybe Gerri’s opera music was more than just people screaming at each other in Italian after all.
He turned her hand over in his, fingers brushing against the gold rings that were stacked on her middle finger. She blinked back the last of her tears, eyes fixed on the ceiling above their heads as he brought her hand closer to his face.
“What happened here?” Roman asked, fingers tracing along the thin white scar on the palm of Gerri’s hand. Gerri herself hardly noticed the scar most of the time as it started to blend with the lines on her palm, as though it had always been there. “Tripped with a glass bowl at the Brownstone - ended up with half of it in my hand. Though I had enough martinis in me that I hardly felt it,” Gerri explained as Roman’s finger traced stars along the little white scar back and forth.
Gerri closed her eyes again. A little more of her resolve faded away. Getting closer to the edge.
“Ger, can I…?” he paused, still cradling her hands in his as he moved his head to look at her. Catching the last tear as it disappeared into the curve of her neck. “You can stay, Rome,” Gerri answered the unspoken question as his fingers interlocked with hers, his weight shifting next to her body as he turned on his side. He didn’t care that his clothes were wrinkled or even that he would be sleeping in the suit he had worn to work. Nothing else mattered in that pocket of time than the two of them in that room, laying together in that Emperor size bed. Side by side this time. As it should be.
“Good, cause I wasn’t planning on moving from here,” Roman mumbled as he turned to tuck his head against her neck, one hand splayed across her stomach, fingers curling around her waist. It was at that moment that Gerri fell. Free falling as the little voice in her head accepted the inevitable.
“Rome, take your shirt off,” she whispered, her free hand fiddling with the buttons of his shirt as she tried to get her hands against his skin. Roman threw her a look that told her exactly where his mind had gone to. “No, I just…I just want to feel you,” Gerri confessed, eyes meeting his as Roman let go of her hand and lifted his head to unbutton his shirt.
She needed to feel skin under her hands and not the cotton of his shirt. Needed something to ground her in the madness of it all. Somewhere to anchor her hands as she accepted her fate. As she fell.
His Ralph Lauren shirt fell in a crinkled ball onto Gerri’s bedroom floor next to her silk dressing robe. Gerri’s nails scraped across his bare back but they didn’t dig in as he returned his head to her chest, one hand cupping the side of her left breast as the other held onto her hand. Her nails didn’t mark him as hers - not yet.
Roman lifted his head as Gerri’s nails stopped on his back. “Ger,” he tried, eyes meeting hers as he lifted himself up by his elbows, hovering over her now. “I’ve got you,” Roman promised, the very last of her resolve slipping away at that moment.
Gerri’s hands reached out for his face, one on each cheek as she pulled him to her. It wasn’t a hurried kiss, but a hungry one instead. The sort that would have you pulling at clothes and grabbing at exposed skin. Wasting no time in driving each other over the edge and back again. Perhaps that’s what might have happened on another night. Perhaps it would happen on another night.
But for now all Gerri wanted was to be held. To be held by someone in her own bed for the first time in over a decade. To be held by Roman.
“Fuck, Gerri,” Roman muttered against her neck as he pulled away, lips moving to dance across the dip in her neck at that inviting little crevice above her clavicle where he’d gladly get lost in.
Maybe. Just maybe.
They would survive the fall.
Notes:
for reference, this is the version of Callas' Vissi d'Arte that was playing in Gerri's bedroom https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nk5KrlxePzI
and yes, the chapter title is a reference to the Taylor Swift song but it's also a nod to a bit of symbolism you'll see in the next few chapters.
Chapter 9: The Starry Night
Chapter Text
The first thing Gerri registered when she woke up that morning was the warmth of the bed. Then the feeling of someone’s arm locked around her. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that her head was resting on something harder than her pillowcase. Her arm was still asleep, even as her mind had already woken up. The sun had started to slip through the balcony doors that they had forgotten to close the night before, waking her in the process.
Her arm was linked over his, her head tucked under his chin as she faced his chest. As if they were two pieces that fit seamlessly together. Gerri’s eyes struggled to adjust to the light as she blinked, taking in her surroundings. Roman must have gotten up at some stage to put a blanket over them as they were still laying on top of the duvet. Even closer to each other than the position they had fallen asleep in.
When was the last time she had woken up in a man’s arms? Probably the morning of the day Baird died. She had never ‘ slept over’ with any of the men in the intervening years. Never once let them into her own bedroom, she always went to theirs. Maybe that had been one of her walls. A red line she had put down with the handful of men she had been with since Baird’s death. She almost always grew tired of them after a few weeks.
Yet Roman had walked right through that red line without even thinking twice. And she hadn’t fought against him. Had made a half-arse attempt at telling him to go back to the guest room the first time - only to wake up disappointed when he had already left the next morning. Then it was she who refused to let him leave this time, not the idea had even crossed his mind.
“Stop thinking,” Roman mumbled above her head, his cheek coming to rest against the crown of her head as her fingers turned over the gold disc on the chain he was still wearing. She had never realised before that he wore a St. Christopher’s chain under his shirts. It must have been a gift from someone - probably Caroline, maybe even Shiv.
“What?” Gerri asked, confused as to how Roman had known she was awake when his eyes were still closed. It wasn’t like she had been able to move either. His arm was wrapped around her back, keeping her snug against his chest - as if offering her a safe harbour to rest her head and weather out the storm.
“You’re thinking too loud, I can hear you, Ger,” he told her, sinking in the mattress a little more as he pulled her closer into his arms, her head tucked against his chest. Roman moved his hand, tracing stars across the bare skin of her arm and back. “Go back to sleep, Ger,” he tried, his hand stopping its tracing to come and cover her eyes as if to gently close them.
“We have to get up for work,” Gerri tried to fight back half-heartedly, a yawn escaping her lips as she did, stretching a little in a way that reminded Roman of a cat before she rested her head back down against his neck. “I can’t believe you’re in bed with me and thinking of work, way to boost a man’s self esteem, Ger,” Roman tutted, reaching his hand out to the bedside table where he had dropped his phone the night before on top of her stack of magazines.
“Rome,” Gerri breathed, content to spend the rest of the day laying like this in the shadows of her bedroom as the morning dawn slipped through the balcony doors. “Yeah?” he asked, texting as quickly as he could with one hand, the other trapped under Gerri’s side. “Stop thinking,” Gerri grumbled against his chest, turning the tables as she felt her eyes grow heavy. She was already halfway to sleep when Roman stopped tapping on his phone and linked his arms back around her again.
It was two hours later before Gerri’s eyes opened again. Less surprised than the time before she laid still on the bed, content to listen to the thump, thump, thump of Roman’s heartbeat against her ear as if it was her own personal lullaby.
She shifted a little, her hand trailing up his arm until her eyes caught sight of Roman’s phone hidden amongst the tangled bedsheets. The screen jumped to life as another email notification popped up. She squinted her eyes to try and see the screen without her glasses on, Roman must have taken them off her face while she was sleeping.
8:21am.
When was the last time she had slept past 6am? She didn’t even sleep later than that during the weekend. But it wasn’t a weekend, as Roman’s phone also reminded her. It was a Friday morning.
“Roman,” Gerri snapped as she shook his shoulder gently, but he simply groaned next to her, his grip around her waist tightening. “Rome, it’s almost half eight, wake up,” she tried again, moving to shift his dead weight off her as she pushed herself up against the satin pillowcases, tapping his cheek as she went.
“We’re not going in, I texted the gaggle and told them we both had the flu,” Roman confessed, yawning before he lifted his head, only to rest it back down on her stomach as she set one hand down on his head, the other pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re telling me you want us to pull a sickie?” she asked, already going through her calendar in her head as her fingers trailed through his hair. The interim CEO and COO couldn’t just take a day off - not in the middle of an acquisition. Even if it was a Friday at the end of August when half of corporate New York was on vacation.
“Gotta have some perks to sleeping with the boss,” Roman mumbled, groaning as Gerri kicked the blanket off them and wiggled out of his arms before getting off the bed. His eyes followed her as she stepped into her slippers, grabbing her phone from the bedside table. “Play hooky with me for one day Ger,” Roman pleaded, leaning forward onto his knees as Gerri continued walking around her bedroom, picking up their discarded clothing from the floor.
She stopped to put on her glasses, looking at him over the rim of them. Miss goodie-two-shoes didn’t play hooky. “What harm could it do?” Roman insisted, not knowing he was repeating the same phrase that the little voice in the back of Gerri’s head had been saying since they were in Italy as if it was a philosophical maxim.
“We can go around New York like normal people for a day,” he proposed, part of him mindful that Gerri needed some breathing space away from the office to work through whatever was going on in her head. Plus there was no way he was going to get out of Gerri’s bed and manage to concentrate for a full work day.
“What if we go and get pancakes?” Roman offered, knowing there wasn’t much he couldn’t bribe Gerri to do with pancakes. She stopped by the door to the en-suite and Roman watched the gears turning in her head.
“With fruit and honey?” she asked a moment later, throwing his shirt over towards the bed. She’d have to iron it for him before they’d leave. “With fruit and honey,” Roman repeated as Gerri finally gave in. “Fine, but you’re feeding the tortoise while I change,” Gerri decided, her hand wrapped around the cold metal of the door handle that separated her bedroom from her walk in wardrobe.
“You’re telling me I can’t watch you get dressed?” Roman whined, having always imagined what it would be like to simply sit back and watch as Gerri went about her morning routine. Watch as she rubbed the lotion into her skin, offering his running commentary as she chose between Armani suits, helping her choose which lipstick colour to wear that day. Roman knew he could happily exist in the space between her bedroom door and the back of her closet - so long as it meant living like this, side by side with her.
“You don’t have closet privileges yet,” Gerri taunted as she opened the door just a little, the sensor lights of the walk-in closet snapping to life. He could just about make out the shelves of handbags against the far wall, a tray of sunglasses taking up one of the smaller shelves. The closet seemed to be the sort that had shelves and railings across all four walls, leaving the centre of the small room open to explore the treasures that filled every nook and cranny. “Yet ,” Roman repeated, biting at the skin of his thumb as he wondered where her La Perla pieces had ended up in the closet, “The ice queen is breaking.”
Gerri rolled her eyes as she stepped into the closet, making sure not to open the door fully as she went. “Go and feed the tortoise, Rome,” she instructured him, closing the door as she spoke. Roman pouted his upper lip as he heard the lock turn on her closet door. Gerri was too smart for her own good sometimes.
Roman and Gerri being off work meant that assistants had been left to cover for them. While Emily and Alice kept things running at the office, the second assistants had been sent out to attend a meeting their bosses should have been at to take notes. Nancy would forever say it was one of the most boring she had been forced to attend in her professional career.
“It’s good experience though, I guess,” Nick observed, thinking of how he’d never be able to step into Roman’s shoes. Roman’s father had at least put him in a position within the family company. His own father hadn’t been so succession-focused. “You say that like it’s interesting to sit around and listen to forty old white guys drone on about market regulation and compliance,” Nancy groaned, having lost the will to live at least twice during that meeting. She walked in stride with Nick through the streets of middle Manhattan, having long since regretted her choice of wearing leather sling-backs.
Nick had started droning on about something to do with corporate compliance, Nancy’s attention span drifting as she glanced into the buildings to her left as they headed back towards the office. Oh, to be someone who sits around drinking champagne at 11 o’clock on a Friday morning instead of being stuck in the centre of Corporate America.
A familiar head of blonde hair made her do a double take as they passed the window of one of the little French bistros on Park Avenue. She could have almost swore it was Gerri. The man sitting across from her turned to pick something up next to him, his side profile making it clear that it was Roman.
Nancy stopped in her tracks, reaching out to grab Nick by his wrist, fingers wrapping around the cuff of his shirt to pull him back. “Nick, is that – no, it can’t be, am I going crazy?” she asked, squinting her eyes a little to try and look past the other diners towards the couple sitting in the centre of the restaurant.
That was one of the first signs of madness, right? Thinking you see your boss everywhere you go. It was probably some stress-related thing she could pop a Xanax for.
Roman and Gerri were meant to be off sick. Both dosed with the flu out of the blue. Gerri never took sick days, so Nancy had assumed that her boss was basically at death’s door. She hadn’t expected her to be feeding Roman Roy pancakes and fruit off her brunch plate. Roman was also definitely wearing the same outfit she had seen him in the day before, though Gerri was wearing a black dress with a scoop neckline and V boning that plunged a little deeper than her usual office dresses.
“What the fuck?” Nancy hissed, stepping closer to the window, stepping next to one of the large ornamental vases for a better view. “This is like catching your parents on a date,” Nick groaned, wishing for his own sake that he hadn’t seen the two of them together like that. He pulled out his phone as Nancy’s tapped the screen of hers, the two assistants opening different text threads.
Nancy put her phone back into her pocket, watching as Nick kept texting on his. There was something off about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “They look happy though,” Nick observed as he put his phone back into his pocket, glancing through the window once more at Roman and Gerri. There was that pang of guilt again. “Gerri deserves to be happy,” Nancy mused, stealing one last glance into the bistro before turning around, grabbing Nick by the arm to get him to follow her. “If your boss hurts her though, Alice and I will be throwing him into the Hudson,” she added as they headed down the street.
Nick laughed at the idea of that. What Nancy lacked in height she made up for in stubbornness and wit. “Yeah, the 5 foot 2 Nancy Drew is going to rugby tackle Roman into the river,” he teased, looking down at the girl who was almost a head shorter than him. “Don’t worry, I’ll practise with you first,” Nancy announced, nudging her elbow into his arm as they headed back towards the Waystar office.
Gerri looked up from her pancakes in time to catch a couple disappearing down the street. The woman’s hot pink coat reminded her of the one Nancy usually wore to the office, but surely half of New York had that Zara coat? Maybe she was just growing paranoid about the whole thing. It felt a little like bunking off school as a kid and expecting to have your teachers find you and drag you back to the Headmaster’s office. Logan would probably self-combust at the idea of the two of them being off playing hooky together.
“Mission control to G-Spot,” Roman said, waving his hand in front of her face to try and get her attention. “Sorry, I thought I saw someone – what were you saying?” She asked, taking a sip of her latte as she curled her hands around the mug. “What’s on your New York bucket list?” He repeated the question she had missed before, moving his empty plate to the other side of the table, bringing his green smoothie closer to him. He had eventually managed to bribe her to agree to his plan with the promise of taking her to the restaurant a few streets from her apartment for pancakes.
“I’m not a fucking tourist, Rome,” Gerri complained, popping the last blueberry in her mouth before the waitress came to pick up their plates. It was probably the first time in at least two years that she had gone out for breakfast with someone that didn’t involve an ulterior Waystar-related motive. “And here was me thinking you had just teleported from Kentucky to the Waystar office,” he poked back in response, having always struggled until now to imagine Gerri anywhere outside of the office or any of the corporate retreats they had gone on. He knew different now. Roman could vividly picture her at home now. He had explored her space, made himself at home under the Egyptian cotton of her bedsheets.
“Let’s just go for a walk and see where we end up,” Gerri proposed, not sure when the last time she walked more than a few blocks around New York. She only saw the city through the blacked-out windows of her chauffeur driven car. It would be nice to explore on her own two feet for once. Roman called for the bill and Gerri glanced around the restaurant as she tried to imagine what this situation looked like from the point of view of their fellow diners.
There were plenty of other couples sitting around them, a few corporate people having meetings over cappuccinos, and a family with three older teenagers sat around one of the round tables at the back. Gerri realised then that they had just blurred seamlessly into the background - as if they were like any other couple in New York. As if the Waystar baggage and the looming shadow of Logan Roy didn’t exist.
“Right, let’s go,” Roman announced as he finished up paying, holding his hand out to help Gerri up from behind the table. “Also, so you don’t freak out, Frederick is dropping my overnight bag at your building’s front desk, because I’m assuming you’ll want to go back there later,” he confessed, part of him wondering if he could find a discreet spot in one of the guest rooms to stash it away in. It wasn’t like anyone ever used those guest rooms.
“Well, I suppose it makes sense,” Gerri agreed, her mind working through the thought in her head. It was one thing to have him her space, it was another for his things to start popping up amongst hers. But it couldn’t hurt for him to have a few things in her apartment, even just for the next few weeks. Their little joint maxim ran through her head once more.
What harm could it do?
Their walk had taken them from Park Avenue and through to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Rockefeller Center, side-stepping the hordes of tourists that lined the street. Gerri stopped when they got to the corner of 49th Street and 6th Avenue.
“I never knew you had a sugar thing,” Roman tutted, glancing over at the door of Magnolia Bakery. “I’m just going to go in and grab something for later, okay, you wait out here?” she instructed, turning on her heels to head towards the door. Some things were too sacred to share with him just yet. Her bedroom was one thing. Magnolia Bakery was another.
“Is Mommy just going to abandon me on the sidewalk?” Roman pouted, hands on his back as he watched her walk off without him, feeling a little like a puppy left behind by his mistress. “I’ll let you lick the spoon when I’m finished if you’re a good boy,” Gerri called over her shoulder as she headed towards the bakery door.
Roman took out his phone as he waited, flicking through the stack of notifications that had come in while they were at brunch. None of it mattered very much as he scrolled right past a text from Kerry asking why he had missed the 9:30 am meeting with his dad. Trust her to be sticking her nose in the middle of it all. He was mid-way through sending a text message to Emily when the bakery door opened again and Gerri appeared with a large Magnolia Bakery branded shopping bag in hand.
“Did you buy the entire counter?” he asked surprised as he tried to look into the bag that had several ice-cream style tubs inside with a white box sitting at the top. “No, just some banana pudding.” Gerri lied, licking her lips to hide the evidence of the little sample she had tried inside the bakery. Roman gave her a look that told her he wasn’t convinced. “Okay and maybe a box of chocolate chip cookies - I was running low,” Gerri confessed, handing the fancy bakery shopping bag over to him to carry.
Gerri had a sweet tooth. Another thing to add to the ever growing list of things he didn’t know about her. “Well, can we break open your cookies or are they off limits?” Roman asked, digging around for the box at the top of the bag as Gerri crossed her arms like a child who had just been asked to share their brownie with a classmate. “We can split one of them, Rome,” she warned, watching as he took the top cookie out of the box before breaking it in half and holding one part out for her to take.
They turned onto 6th Avenue and Roman started to feel as if someone was watching him. It was an unnerving sense of being watched, knowing someone had their eyes fixed on you from a distance. He looked over his shoulder as Gerri altered between eating her half of the cookie and talking about the time she had seen The Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall with Karolina one Christmas. It didn’t seem like anyone was following them, so he shook it off as they crossed the street.
A few minutes later, Roman was confident he had seen someone watching them in the distance again. But this was New York. People watching was the number one sport in the city. The guy could have been taking a photo of anything or anyone. There was no reason to jump to assumptions that the camera lens was deliberately positioned to capture him and Gerri. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try and drop the guy - even if he was just being a creep with an unhealthy sense of curiosity and a fancy camera.
“Look, why don’t we go in here?” Roman suggested, nodding his head towards the Museum of Modern Art building down the street on the right-hand side. “It’s cultured shit and you like that sort of stuff,” he rambled, glancing over his shoulder as they headed up the steps towards the main entrance. The guy was still there, DSLR in hand with its wide angle lens. Maybe he had just been photographing the buildings? That would explain why he lifted his camera as they headed through the main entrance.
“I’ve not been here since –” Gerri paused, not able to bring herself to say it. To mention his name to Roman in a space that had once meant so much to them. It felt a little like dancing on his grave. “Well, it’s been at least a decade,” she concluded, hand linking through his as they stood in the queue to buy tickets.
“Think I came to some party here once, pretty sure Kendall almost knocked over one of the statues after doing a few lines,” Roman replied, though all these sorts of buildings started to blend into one in his memory after a little while. He never usually stopped to pay much attention to them. He had always ignored the art in favour of tracking down a waiter to swipe a glass of champagne from. “Have you heard anything from Kendall yet?” Gerri asked, mindful of the state the man had been in during their time in Italy. Roman shrugged, “I don’t think the facility he’s gone to promotes staying in touch with the people who caused your problems,” he said, having had at least 13 calls to Kendall go to voicemail before Rava had told him his efforts had been in vain.
“Families are complicated,” Gerri concluded, knowing that somehow the Roys made the Kellmans look like a perfectly functional family unit. “So fucking complicated,” Roman echoed, trying to get the picture of Kendall crying on that dusty Tuscan road out of his head. “You know when we were in Italy, I don’t know for like a minute, I thought things might have been okay,” he shrugged, the wound opening up a little again. The three of them had always been treading water, Kendall even more than him and Shiv. Perhaps they were always doomed to simply co-exist without being fully in each other's lives, keeping up the pretence of the functional family for the sake of corporate image.
“No one knows how to hurt you more than the people you share blood with,” Gerri reminded him, speaking from experience as they got closer to the front of the queue. She had - after all - seen just how far Logan was willing to go to hurt his middle child. He acted as though he was Zeus, able to just discard his children into the darkness then pick them up again with no consequences for his actions. Roman could count on one hand how many times his whole family had been together as an adult without it ending in a screaming match.
Maybe the size and nature of their family meant that they had never stood a chance. His father stood in the centre as a wannabe King Lear, planning how to carve out his kingdom for his children. Connor would never get anything beyond a handsome trust fund, leaving the three of them to fight for the roles of Cordelia, Goneril and Regan. They all ended up dead at the end anyway.
Maybe things would be easier without so much mess. So much baggage. So very many years of trauma and shit from his father.
Roman wondered if perhaps a family could just be a unit of two people. Maybe it would be easier that way. Just two people who existed in a little space in a penthouse apartment on the 16th floor of a New York complex with vodka martinis and a tortoise for company. Something in the back of his mind stopped him from taking that thought much further. They existed in limbo for now. One foot over the invisible line in the sand, not ready to fully give in just yet. For all he knew, Gerri could still want to go through with their plan. Treat this game as just a few weeks of careless fun to get him out of her system.
“It’s a stupid word anyway,” Roman muttered, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. The couple ahead of them finished paying and Gerri stepped towards the counter, buying them two tickets for the museum.
They filtered through the hallways of the museum, taking the route recommended by the map that Roman had picked up from the front desk. Most of the exhibitions hadn’t changed much since the last time she had visited, but Gerri was able to point out some of the newer acquisitions. Roman gave his usual running commentary as they walked past more of the contemporary art.
“Remind me to paint some blobs on a canvas and call it art,” Roman observed as he debated whether it would be acceptable to break back into the box of cookies for a second helping. The only good thing was that he couldn’t see the guy with the camera anymore. Their detour into the museum had at least shaken him off their trail.
They turned a corner on the third floor and Gerri suddenly knew where it was. Her feet could have carried her there in her sleep. The painting loomed in the distance like a friendly ghost of Christmas past. Walking down the hallway towards it felt like the tomb doors opening - letting the sunlight in after a peaceful slumber.
“Let’s go up here,” she said, taking Roman’s arm to pull him in the direction of the painting that sat in a side room, the centrepiece on a feature wall that stood out in the middle, while other paintings adorned the walls around it. They came to a stop in front of the painting and Gerri folded her arms as she came face to face with ‘The Starry Night’ for the first time in over a decade.
“You like -” Roman paused to lean forward, reading the name on the little plaque next to the painting, “Vincent van Gogh,” he read, turning his attention to Gerri, her eyes fixed on the painting in the simple black frame with gold trim. It seemed as if she was trying to save each paint stroke into her memory. It all just seemed like random blobs of blue swirls that looked more like waves than the sky with yellow balls of light that watched over the sleepy village below.
“This was Lily’s favourite,” Gerri revealed, eyes not moving from the painting as she took a trip down memory lane. “We used to take her here as a little girl, she always asked to see the stars,” she explained, a lump forming in her throat as she thought of the last time she had stood in front of that painting. Baird had suggested taking the girls to Saint-Rémy-de-Provence to see the view within the painting.
But they never got a chance. He died three weeks later and she hadn’t seen the painting since.
Roman stepped closer to the painting, his mind’s eye taking a moment to recognise the yellow circular paint strokes as being stars under the crescent golden glow of the moon. Everything clicked in that single moment.
It made sense now why Gerri had cried at the stars the night before. The stars were Lily. Perhaps they were Madeline as well. Maybe even Baird. But the stars were definitely Lily. The shining bright light that seemed so close Gerri could reach out her hand and touch it. Capture that little ball of golden light in her hand and keep it in her pocket. Lily slipped through her fingers the same way the stars always did. Her daughter was in New York but she could have been as far away as the stars themselves.
The world moved on and time ticked by. Another mother stood with her blonde haired child in front of the same painting, clutching her little fingers for fear of losing her. Losing her the same way Gerri lost Lily the day Baird died. But the stars were still shining as bright as ever, through the pain and loss, never losing their eternal glow.
“You okay?” Roman quizzed, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as he watched Gerri take a breath, eyelashes fluttering. “I’ll cope,” she whispered, hand reaching out blindly for his arm as she took her eyes off the painting to look at him. “Where to next, Mr. Tour Guide?” Gerri asked as they strolled through the museum, ready to leave her ghosts behind for a little while.
Roman gave her shoulder a squeeze as they headed through the museum. “I have an idea,” he announced, knowing that there was somewhere just a few streets over that he could take her to cheer her up. He had offered to buy them for her after all. His phone rang when they were heading out past the gift shop and he left Gerri there while he stepped outside to answer the call.
Museum gift shops had always been a guilt pleasure for her. She’d pick up a nick nack here and there and suddenly the cashier would ring up $300 worth of random prints and books she probably didn’t need. Gerri side-stepped around the usual tourist souvenirs and walked towards the glass cabinets at the side of the gift shop. There were several cases with jewellery inspired by the museum’s most recognizable pieces. It didn’t take her long to spot the necklace in the centre with its distinctive yellow balls of light, the earth and sky blending to seamlessly become one. The living and the dead brought a little closer by the flamelike cypress tree.
Roman returned just as the cashier had finished wrapping up the necklace for her after running her card. “What did you get?” he asked as he tucked the smaller gift bag into the one from the bakery. “Just a gift for Lily,” Gerri revealed before they headed out of the museum and out onto 53rd street, walking towards 5th Avenue.
Gerri started getting suspicious of where they were going once they passed the St. Regis Hotel then Tiffany & Co. They were heading directly to where almost every tourist was in New York. One of the doormen moved forward to open the heavy glass door when they reached the front of Bergdorf Goodman. “Why are we here on a Friday with half the tourists?” Gerri questioned Roman as he trailed ahead of her through the ground floor, bypassing the sales associates that were trying to offer them perfume samples.
“Where’s the shoe department?” Roman asked one of the store employees near the escalator. “Fifth floor, Sir,” the man replied, pointing upwards to the various escalators that were packed with shoppers going from one floor to the next. “Roman,” Gerri warned as she got onto the escalator behind him, trying not to think of how he already looked like a kid in a candy store.
“Yes, Gerri-berry?” Roman asked as they came off the first set of escalators and headed onto the second. “Why are we going to the shoe department?” Gerri questioned, although she feared that she already knew the answer to her question. The offer he had made in the elevator before they went to Logan’s party came back to her mind again. “Well, they sell Manolos here,” he responded, digging around in his blazer for his wallet, “I’m going to buy you a pair.”
They were switching from the second to the third escalator when Gerri started protesting. “I have like fifty pairs of Manolos,” she assured him, already well aware of just how much he had spent on that little La Perla order. Gerri didn’t want him to think he had to buy her things. She wasn’t something to be bought. Not the way Logan bought people. “Yeah, but I want to buy you a pair,” Roman reminded her, looking down at the spot on his hand where she had driven in her Manolo heel less than a week ago.
“You need to stop buying me things,” Gerri insisted as they got off on the third floor, stepping out onto the space that was full of little brand boutiques and random selections of up-and-coming designers.
Roman turned his American Express card between his fingers as he came to a stop in the middle of the floor. He could probably buy every shoe in the store if he wanted to. That was the perk of a card with no limits. Roman could probably pay to have them box up every pair with a nice little ribbon and deliver them directly to her closet door.
“Gerri, I don’t think you get how much it fucking turns me on to buy you shit,” he confessed, holding his American Express card out for her to take, not caring if several of the nearby shoppers and staff were watching them. Her eyes narrowed and Roman imagined the back and forth that was going on in her head.
Gerri plucked the American Express card out of his hand and turned on her heel as she headed across the floor, several sales assistants eagerly trying to catch up with her. She tapped her nails against the card, the same way she tapped her stilettos against the wooden floor, as she reached the Manolo Blahnik section and her eyes scanned the shelves of perfectly crafted Italian leather shoes. Gerri folded her arms, American Express card turning between her fingers as she waited for Roman to catch up with her.
“You pick a pair,” Gerri offered as Roman stopped by her side, smirking like the cat who got the cream. He glanced over the heels he vaguely recognised - ones he assumed she already owned. Roman gravitated towards the higher heels, ones he could imagine helping her slip her foot into. Even better if it had a strap. They had to be something she could wear to the office. Another little secret message of theirs. He’d get a little thrill out of watching her boss around the other executives in the shiny patent leather Manolos he had put on her feet.
“What about these?” Roman asked, picking up a pair of black patent Mary Janes from the top shelf that had been out of Gerri’s reach. One of the sales assistants quickly stepped forward to take the shoe from him, asking Gerri for her shoe size before disappearing off into the back room.
“Am I Carrie Bradshaw now?” Gerri asked with a raised eyebrow as the sales assistant left. “Oh, G-Stop,” Roman tutted, stepping closer to her as he bent down a little to bring his lips to her ear, “You’re far more of a Samantha, as much as you might try to pass yourself off as a Charlotte,” he corrected her, having been forced to watch enough reruns of Sex and the City with Tabitha to know Gerri was nothing like Carrie Bradshaw.
Gerri smirked at that, though she didn’t think even Samantha Jones would have someone twenty years younger than her handing over his American Express card for a shopping spree in Manolo. She picked up the shoe sitting on the little round table nearest to them, turning it over in her hand with a nonchalant shrug. She already had the style in several colours, but the green version had only just been released. “I’ll take these in an 8 as well,” Gerri called over to the nearest sales assistant, holding out the emerald satin Hangisi heel for them to take from the display.
What harm could two pairs of Manolos do?
She’d wear the green ones with their bronze square crystal buckle to the RECNY ball - if nothing else. “Would you like to try them on, ma’am?” the sales assistant asked, waiting for Gerri to shake her head before going towards the stock room to pick up the shoes.
“You do remember what you said if I bought you a pair of Manolos, right?” Roman asked eagerly, glancing down at Gerri’s feet as he tried to picture the shoes he had chosen for her. They would look rather fitting with her La Perla sets. If he could ever convince her to wear nothing but the things he had bought her. “I didn’t realise you had become a deal maker, Rome,” Gerri observed as the two sales assistants reappeared with the shoe boxes.
Gerri handed the American Express card back to Roman, not missing the look the sales assistants sent her as they started to wrap up the boxes. They probably thought she was just another New York trophy wife running her husband’s limitless credit card across their cash register like she was buying a pint of milk.
Roman took the Bergdorf branded shopping bag from the sales assistant, the two white Manolo boxes tucked inside. “And that’s the end of the tour,” he declared, pulling his phone out to call them an Uber Black. “Why…whatever could you have in mind?” Gerri teased with a smirk as he grabbed her arm and took her back in the direction of the escalators.
The Uber Black dropped them back at Gerri’s apartment twenty minutes later. His overnight bag was waiting for them at the concierge desk. Roman dropped the shopping bags down onto the kitchen counter as Gerri dug around the fridge for a box of berries.
“Seeing as I’ve contributed to the closet, do I get closet privileges yet?” Roman called from the kitchen as Gerri went off to check on Horus. He had put Gerri’s Magnolia Bakery bread pudding away into the fridge before helping himself to another half of one of her cookies. He had just spent several hundred dollars buying her shoes after all. The least she could do was give him half a cookie. “We’ll see!” Gerri shouted back, the heels she had been wearing earlier already kicked off in the lounge somewhere.
Gerri returned five minutes later with the empty bowl. “Tell me those aren’t cookie crumbs,” she whined, reaching out to take the Magnolia Bakery bag from the counter. “I’d say a cookie in exchange for two pairs of shoes ain’t a bad trade, G,” Roman reminded her as she took the box of cookies, popping them into one of the cabinets over the stove that had never been used. He wouldn’t be shocked if she was using the stove to store her overflow shoes or sweaters.
Gerri picked up the Bergdorf bag and turned to look at Roman. “I can be the tour guide this time and show you the closet,” she announced, watching as Roman licked the last bit of melted chocolate off his fingertips before following her towards her bedroom. Her housekeeper can clearly been in while they were out. The bed had been made up, the white duvet stretched across the Emperor bed without even a single crease in the fabric. Her grey cashmere blanket - the one Roman had wrapped over them the night before - was neatly folded at the foot of the bed.
She pushed open the door of her closet, the lights turning on as Roman came in behind her. “It’s like a fucking store in here,” Roman whistled as he stood in the middle of the room, taking in the shelves and glass-doored cabinets that seemed to reach from floor to ceiling. Everything was meticulously arranged by type and colour - not that he expected anything less from Gerri. There was a rack of MaxMara coats that caught his attention, from the tan suede winter coat with its chunky belt to a red silk trench coat he had never seen Gerri wear before.
There was a little glass cabinet against the far wall with her trinkets. Several of the brooches gleamed under the spotlights. He wondered if she had picked some of them up on her travels over the years, the Egyptian revival pins sitting alongside ones with little pearl-embellished interlocking CCs.
“I need to get a seat or something in here,” Gerri complained, before reluctantly sitting down onto the floor, dropping the bag next to her. She kept her legs long in front of her, finally remembering that she was still wearing a black knit midi dress with a high slit up the back. Roman turned around to watch her take out the first box, checking it was the pair he had chosen before he walked over to her side of the closet, setting himself down on the ground, resting his back against the shelves of handbags behind him.
She took one shoe out then the other, slipping her feet into the Mary Janes, adjusting the strap a little. Gerri wiggled her toes as though trying the shoes for size, even though she knew they would fit. She had fifty pairs behind her that proved that point. Gerri pulled her knees up towards her, well aware of the view that the long slit along the back of her dress might now be offering the man opposite her.
At least he wouldn’t have to ask if she was wearing the blue or red set today.
“Ger,” Roman said, eyes low as he caught what he thought was a flash of blue silk. Blue La Perla silk to be exact. He turned on his knees to crawl towards her, his target in sight.
A moment later his view of her face was blocked as the sole of her Manolo hit his forehead.
His hands dropped to the ground as Gerri extended her leg, the movement forcing him back a few more inches. “Don’t even try it, this is a very expensive carpet,” Gerri warned, having seen how his other hand had been going for the hemline of her dress. “I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a whole damn closet,” Roman whined behind the sole of her Manolos, the tip of the stiletto brushing against his chin as lips moved. He would buy the whole building if it meant he could take her there and then on the closet floor.
Roman lowered himself down on the ground, the sole of her shoe not moving from his forehead, though the stiletto itself had inched closer to his face. The sole pressed a little harder against his forehead as Roman tried to shuffle forward on his elbows, crawling closer to his prize.
“Not on the floor of my closet, Rome,” she scolded, though there was something to the idea of being eaten out while being surrounded by beautiful things. “How about somewhere else?” Roman proposed, knowing that he would rather be on his knees for her on the soft cotton of her bedsheets than the carpet of her closet.
“Rome,” she said, a slight threatening tone to her voice as she dropped her leg down to let him crawl closer to her. She wrapped her hand around the collar of his shirt, pulling him ever closer as her back fell against the shelves of shoes behind her. “Be a fucking man for once,” Gerri growled, one hand slipping under the collar to pull at the gold chain around his neck. Maybe she’d buy him another one. His own gold-plated collar.
“That a challenge, Ger?” he asked, forehead hovering just above hers before he closed the distance between them, his hand cupping the back of her head, getting lost in her blonde hair against the shelf as he kissed her. The two of them fought for dominance, her nails digging deep into the collar of his shirt, as though she might rip the fabric with her bare hands as he fumbled with the hemline of her dress, hand running along the smooth nylon of her nude tights.
Roman broke the kiss as he grabbed her hands, pulling them both to their feet in one swift motion, his hands holding her in place by the waist as she wobbled a little in her Manolos before setting off into the bedroom.
The closet door closed behind them. The noise from the bedroom drowned out the sound of Gerri’s phone dinging next to the empty Manolo Blahnik box. A string of text messages flashing across Gerri’s home screen. Lily Kellman. Madeline Kellman. Alice Charles. The top message simply read: I have a New York Times journo looking to speak to you. When are you free for a call?
The phone screen faded to black as the sensor lights switched off inside the closet as Gerri’s voice floated through from the bedroom, “If you ruin them, so help me Roman, you’re buying a new pair.”
Chapter 10: Moths to the Cigarette Flame
Chapter Text
Gerri shut her eyes, thumb and index finger pinching her nose as she took a breath before dropping under the water. The water drowned out the noises in her head. Lily’s voice. Roman’s voice. Karolina’s voice. They all muddled into one, screaming over each other to be heard. Each pulling her in different directions.
She lifted her head back out of the water and the voices stopped. The bubbles tickled Gerri’s nose as she grabbed the face cloth at the edge of the bath to dry her face, her head coming to rest against the back of the tub.
The Alexa speaker was set on the marble countertop near the sink on the other side of the room, the speaker at full volume. Gerri’s Spotify playlist sat on shuffle, rotating between Frank Sinatra, Maria Callas, and Sara Bareilles - an assortment that showcased just how mixed-matched her music tastes could be.
She’d woken up that morning without the haze of martinis hanging over her. It had taken her a few minutes to untangle herself from Roman, needing to put some space between them to let herself think clearly.
Maybe Karolina had been right. She should just get it all out of her system over the next few weeks and that would be that. But Gerri wasn’t an idiot. Her relationship with Roman was a Pandora’s box she couldn’t close once it was opened.
Did she want to close that box? Part of her couldn’t deny the fact that it was nice to have someone around. To not wake up in a cold and empty bed every morning and have Horus be the last person she’d see before she’d go to sleep. And it wasn’t the elaborate gestures that warmed Gerri’s heart the most. No, it was the simple things. The little things - the way Roman would remake her martini if it wasn’t exactly how she liked it, how he’d be waiting in the car with her coffee in the morning, and how he’d given her a safe harbour to weather out the storm.
But Gerri could feel another storm coming.
One that wouldn’t pass in the darkness of the night. A storm they couldn’t hide away from in her penthouse apartment. The little voice in the back of her head told her this wasn’t going to last. That it would slip through her fingers like the stars she reached for in the midnight sky.
Gerri groaned as she slipped down the bathtub again, letting the bubbles come up around her shoulders as she closed her eyes.
This was a certified fucking mess.
Roman had woken up to an empty bed and the sound of water running in the bathroom. At least she hadn’t slipped off to one of the guest rooms or something. That would have been worse - but the rational part of his brain told him she probably just needed to think. It took him a few minutes to find his phone on the other side of the room, not surprised by the stack of text messages and emails that had piled up - along with a warning that he was down to 10% battery.
Time to tell the rest of the world they were not dying of a deadly cold.
Roman hit the call button on Emily’s name and walked around the bedroom in search of a phone charger while he waited for her to pick up. There was one wrapped up in a perfectly neat ball in the top drawer of the dresser near the balcony. Trust Gerri to have a spot for everything with her clear containers and perfectly labelled trays.
“How was it playing hooky?” Emily asked by way of greeting when she picked up the phone. Roman cringed at that. His first assistant wouldn’t be letting him live that one down anytime soon. He had always thought of her as a better fit for a would-be younger sister than Shiv. Though Emily had a tendency to bully him around as if she was his older sister - that’s probably why she had lasted for so long as his first assistant. “Was that a lucky guess or…?” Roman questioned, avoiding the temptation to riffle his way through the stacks of leather-bound notebooks and little pouches that were also in the drawer before he closed it.
“Nick and Nancy saw you both out for pancakes, I heard Gerri was feeding you?” Emily prodded, the teasing tone in her voice told Roman he’d be listening to jokes about it for the next month at least. “Trust Nick and Nora to find us,” Roman groaned with a shake of his head, starting to think that Manhattan was getting smaller by the day - a little village stuck in the epicentre of New York.
“Uhm, what can I help you with? I’m assuming you called for an actual reason and not just to kill time while the missus is getting dressed,” Emily asked, her voice making it clear she had other things to do that morning. “Look, Gerri just needs a break this weekend, can you tell the others to just lay off the calls and texts?” Roman instructed, knowing that Gerri hadn’t replied to any of the 84 text messages or 13 calls he had seen sitting unread on her phone screen when he was searching for his own phone.
“Sure, Rome, is there anything I can do though?” Emily asked, the typing in the background told Roman that she was sitting in front of a laptop - hopefully at home and not the office. Waystar didn’t pay her enough to be at the office on a Saturday.
Roman pushed back the sliding doors out to the balcony, stepping further away from the en-suite bathroom before he voiced the thought that had been sitting at the back of his mind. “Yeah, I - I don’t know if I’m paranoid or not, but I think someone was following us yesterday,” he revealed, stopping by the railing to look out over the skyline as a sleepy New York woke up before him. “Shit, really?” Emily exclaimed, the typing getting more ferocious on the other end of the phone.
“Can you speak to Fredrick and ask him to stay on standby? I’d feel better with someone like him around us,” he asked, knowing that the driver with his Scotland Yard background would spot any photographers from a mile away. Maybe he’d discreetly switch Gerri’s Waystar driver out for Fredrick. “Yeah, I’ll speak to him, don’t sweat it,” Emily assured him, before there was a pause in the conversation, the silence filled only with the clicks of keystrokes. “Rome, you can tell me if I’m overstepping here, but is everything okay?” she quizzed as Roman glanced back into the bedroom and towards the closed down of the en-suite where Gerri was. “Just a lot going on, Em, we’ll be fine,” he insisted, saying goodbye before hanging up the phone.
Roman put his phone back on ‘do not disturb’ before heading into the bedroom, dropping the phone down onto the bed on top of the tangled sheets. “Gerri?” he called, stepping closer to the en-suite door that sat across from the closet door. Roman knocked on the door - his usual rhythmic knock - as he tried to listen for any sound of her moving on the other side of the door.
“Ger, are you okay in there?” Roman tried again, ear pressed up against the door. Maybe she had fallen asleep in the bath? He could hear music though, Nat King Cole’s voice echoing off the tiled floor and walls. “The door’s open,” Gerri called back and Roman took a breath before pushing down on the cold metal of the bathroom door handle.
The first thing that caught his eye was Gerri’s neck laid back against the edge of the bathtub. Her hair was pulled up with a claw clip to keep it out of the way, her natural curls peeking through a little at the top of her head. She must have used an entire bottle of bubble bath because he couldn’t make out anything below her shoulders. The Diptyque candle next to the bath looked as if it had only just been lit, the flame still at the top with only a little hot wax gathering below the wick.
Gerri’s bathtub was the sort that Roman thought only existed in ‘90s movies with its gold feet, the top sculpted into several fleur-de-lis, standing out against the simple whiteness of the bathtub itself. “Shall I bring you a martini? You look pretty comfortable there,” Roman asked as he stepped further into the bathroom, eyes fixed on her face. He sat himself down at the foot of the bath, still able to look up and see her face amongst the bubbles that floated above the water. “Bit early for a martini, Rome,” Gerri observed, lifting her head off the edge of the bathtub to get a better view of the man sitting on the floor.
Roman could smell lavender, perhaps it was her bath soak or maybe it was one of the candles burning nearby. The tiles of the bathroom floor were comfortable enough for him to stretch out, sitting up on his knees to rest his elbows on the edge of the tub as he fixed his eyes on her face. “You’ve got a real ‘lady of leisure’ thing going on here, Ger,” he joked, ignoring the temptation to throw the ‘trophy wife’ title at her.
“Don’t get too comfortable down there, Roman,” Gerri said, one manicured hand appearing on the side of the bathtub as she looked down at him on the tiled floor. “I like it here, think I might stay a while,” Roman announced, stretching his arms like a dog waking up from a nap, as if to prove his point.
Gerri didn’t know if he meant her bathroom floor or her apartment. The voices started shouting over each other in her head again. Lily’s voice shouted the loudest this time.
“Rome,” Gerri paused, trying to find the right words. “This is for just a few weeks okay, you get that, right?” she asked gently, trying to soften the blow of the punch she was delivering. “Ger –” Roman started, shaking his head as he tried to stop her from going down that route. “We’ll get this out of our systems and then - maybe, we can find a way to make it work, but not like this,” she told him, the water suddenly feeling colder as she tried to convince herself that they could simply ‘get this out of our systems’ and move on. Karolina’s voice echoed in her ears this time.
Roman narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, wondering what had happened in the course of a few hours to make Gerri change her tune. He knew she was a certified overthinker with an analytical mind who couldn't help but pull every situation apart, yet this felt like something was eating at her. “What’s going on inside your head, Gerri?” he asked, refusing to take her earlier words to heart. Gerri had clearly come to the bath to think, a classic sign that she was probably starting to spiral again.
“I’m seeing Lily in a few hours,” Gerri reminded him, looking up at the ceiling as the back of her neck rested down against the edge of the bath tub again. The little swirls in the ceilings reminded her of the stars as she distracted herself by counting the ones above her head.
“Well, that would do it,” Roman groaned, his back hitting the side of the claw bath as he sat back down and stretched his legs out, not able to look at Gerri. “You really birthed an Ice Princess there, G, should’ve named her Elsa or some shit like that,” he added a moment later, wondering if he could ever talk the younger blonde woman into coming to the office to get Kerry off their tail. He’d pay to watch Lily cut her down a few inches. She’d probably swallow her whole and chew her back out again just to watch her run off and cry to Logan.
Gerri ignored the comment about her eldest daughter. Perhaps because there was more than a little truth to the statement. She knew how Lily had earned that title - and the events that had shaped her into that persona.
“Roman, I just think if we ever were to make some kind of a go at it, we couldn’t do it like this,” she concluded, knowing there was no way a genuine relationship could ever survive the scrutiny they were under. Logan was breathing down their necks, Shiv looked set on trying to lace their martinis with arsenic, and their relationship could be the final nail in the coffin of her relationship with her daughters. No. The only chance they had involved getting away from Waystar. The rational part of Gerri’s mind knew that. The irrational part knew how ridiculous that was - to be forced to choose between her career and Roman, to force him to choose between his inheritance and her. Roman could go the whole way, but part of Gerri didn’t think they could both make it to the top.
Roman’s voice broke her train of thought. “And what if I want to?” he asked, his voice smaller than Gerri had ever heard it. “Want to what, Rome?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at him. “Make a go of it, G,” Roman confessed, turning to look at Gerri, breaking her heart a little more at the injustice of it all. “We’ll let everything cool down after the RECNY ball and see,” she compromised, head and heart battling it out as she bit down on her lip.
Roman reached out for Gerri’s hand that lay over the side of the bathtub. “Whatever you say, Ger,” she said with a defeated sigh, bringing her knuckles to his lips as he kissed them each in turn before her hand freed itself to cup his cheek, letting him lean into her touch for a silent moment.
“I need to wash my hair, so go and find something to do,” Gerri shooed him away with her hand as she pulled away, mentally preparing herself for her lunch meeting. She had to put her armour on - even if that armour consisted of a MaxMara crinkled satin dress and a strong coat of red lipstick.
“I can wash your hair,” Roman offered, looking around for the shampoo and conditioner. The bathroom was perfectly organised without any clutter. The only products sitting out were a few of Gerri’s lotions and face creams by the sinks, but there were three Olaplex bottles on the little shelf on the other side of the bath. “I spend too much money on my hair for you to play hairdresser with it,” Gerri insisted, refusing to let him mess around with her hair. It was one thing for him to play with it while they were in bed, it was another for him to try and shampoo it.
“Whatever you say Gerri,” he replied, holding his hands out in surrender as he headed towards the bathroom door to let her get on with it. “And do not go riffling around my lingerie, Rome,” Gerri warned, her eyes following him as he left, knowing he was almost certainly making a beeline back into her walk-in closet. “Oh, I’m not going for your lingerie, G. I was thinking of that silk trench coat you’ve got in there,” Roman mused, wondering if he could buy her a matching nightdress to go with it and convince her to wear nothing but that and the trench coat. He would even spring for a matching pair of Manolos. “I’ll wear it someday if you’re a good boy,” she teased with a smirk, flicking some of the bubbles away with her fingertips.
The door clicked closed behind Roman and Gerri reluctantly reached out to pick up the shampoo bottle from the countertop behind the bath. If she was going to see Lily, she at least had to make an effort.
Roman had offered to drop her off to Balthazar but Gerri thought it was chancing their luck. The last thing she needed was Lily and Roman running into each other. Lily would instantly put her guard up if she saw him and would probably assume they were taunting her. The next time Lily and Roman would meet - if they ever met again - had to be somewhere with less people gawking at them. Just in case Lily decided to rip Roman apart piece by little piece. Gerri used the walk over to try and clear her thoughts, putting the little voices in her head to bed.
The hostess had greeted her when she arrived and took her towards one of the booths near the back, stating that it was the table that was requested on the booking. She avoided the temptation to order a martini as she waited for her daughter to arrive - but then the time started ticking away.
It wasn’t like Lily to be late.
Gerri tapped the band of her silver tank watch, wondering if perhaps Lily wasn’t going to show. It would be a fitting act of revenge. How many times had she left Lily sitting alone waiting for her in restaurants? More times than she would probably care to admit. She nursed the glass of sparkling water between her hands, waiting for any sign of Lily coming through the door. It wasn’t like her to be fifteen minutes late.
Another five minutes passed and Gerri had started to contemplate giving up when the bell over the door chimed as a woman walked in, two gentlemen waiting at the front desk moved out of her way, parting like the red sea.
Lily looked older than her years - but in a way that made Gerri think of the leading ladies of silent pictures. There had always been an air of mystery around the girl, even when she was a child. No one had ever managed to crack the polished facade of Ms Lily Kellman - especially not her mother.
Gerri watched as Lily walked towards her, cobalt blue Kelly bag in hand, its gold hardware making the Omega watch stand out on her wrist, where it peaked out under the fitted cuff of her coat. “Apologies for being late, I was at the airport,” Lily greeted, her heels clicking as she stepped into the little booth. Her daughter had evidently seen to it that they were seated near the back of the restaurant, away from the wandering eyes of tourists or anyone from their respective fields that might recognise them and come to say hello.
“Airport? I didn’t realise you were travelling,” Gerri remarked, though she wasn’t surprised. She never did know how far away the stars were. They could have been in New York or an ocean away in London. “I was just dropping someone off,” Lily replied, popping her bag down onto the table as she shrugged out of her navy coat, one Gerri instantly clocked as this season’s MaxMara, revealing the white shirt dress underneath.
“That’s a lovely bag,” Gerri acknowledged with a nod towards the Hermes bag, before cringing at the fact she had just described an Hermes bag as ‘lovely’. Anna would have had her head for that. “It was a gift,” Lily replied simply and Gerri wondered who would have bought her daughter a $20,000 handbag. Was it the same ‘someone’ she had just dropped off at the airport? She knew Lily was living with someone but that was all the information she had on the mystery woman, other than the fact they had been seeing each other for a few years.
“Are you ready to order?” Lily inquired, setting her iPhone down next to her bag. Gerri thought she had caught the glimpse of the ocean in her phone background. “Do you not need to look at the menu?” she asked her daughter, having not seen the younger woman as much as glance at the menu that was still sitting closed next to her cutlery. Lily simply shook her head, “We come here all the time,” she said by way of explanation. Gerri raised her eyebrow at the mention of ‘we’ but didn’t comment on it.
The waiter appeared at the table, his smile beaming a little more as he spotted the younger blonde woman. “Ah, Madame Lily, how have you been? Are the girls not with you today?” he asked, a thick French accent filling the air around them as Lily smiled back at him. “They’re a little busy, Pierre, so it’s just me you’ve got today - oh, and my mother,” she explained, nodding her head towards the woman opposite her. Gerri thought there was a little sarcasm coming into her daughter’s voice there.
Pierre clapped his hands and he spun around to look at her, “Ah, you must be so proud to have a daughter like Lily. She’s one of my favourite customers,” he declared, before turning back to his ‘favourite customer’ and opening his little notebook. “I’m guessing you’d like the usual,” Pierre said, pen already scribbling away as he noted down Lily’s regular order.
“Naturally,” Lily smiled, handing the menu over to Pierre after he finished writing before he turned to look at Gerri. “I’ll have the roasted king salmon but without the onions and a vodka martini, shaken, if that’s okay?” she asked, holding her menu out as she looked up at the French man.
Pierre smiled at her as he glanced between mother and daughter. “Ah, the very same order. You both have very good taste, I’ll have the kitchen get on it right away. Your drinks will be down soon,” he assured them, before nodding his head at Lily one final time and making his way towards the bar.
An awkward silence fell upon the table as Lily looked out over Gerri’s shoulders at the other diners around them, leaving her mother to simply stare at her face. Gerri waited for her daughter’s eyes to land back on her after her third time of looking around the restaurant.
“How have you been?” she asked, taking the leap forward to break the ice. “Busy,” Lily replied with a nonchalant shrug that made Gerri want to pick up her bag and leave. It was clear that the conversation wasn’t going to be an easy one, so the rational part of her mind told her to just jump straight in and get it over with.
Pierre chose that moment to appear with the two martinis, setting down two little white napkins with the Balthazar logo on the corner before setting the drinks down on top. Lily thanked him as he left, while Gerri took a sip of her martini for liquid courage as she looked across the booth at her eldest daughter.
“Look, Lily, we need to talk,” Gerri started, watching as Lily’s shoulders visibly tensed under the textured cotton sleeves of her dress. “I don’t know what happened to make you hate me,” she confessed, although that was a kind-hearted lie she had been telling herself for almost a decade. She had refused to look back into the past to pin-point the very clear moment in time that her relationship with Lily had gone into free-fall, the girl slipping between her fingers like the sands of time.
Lily lifted the martini glass, twirling the crystal between her scarlet red fingertips as she rested her elbow on the table. The mighty Athena waiting to deliver her justice. “Oh you don’t know?” she asked, voice suspiciously soft as she laid her trap, finally bringing the martini glass to her pink lips, the vodka drying her mouth as it hit the back of her throat.
Gerri froze in her seat for a moment under the Medusa stare, wondering if perhaps her daughter had missed her calling as a lawyer. No one could deliver a gut-punch more swiftly than Lily Kellman. She had a way of putting you into a false sense of security with those big green eyes and smooth tone. “Enlighten me, Lily, please, you have the floor,” Gerri said when she found her voice again, hand clutched around her martini glass so tightly she thought for a moment the crystal might break between her fingers.
A decade of hurt and upset flashed before Lily’s green eyes as she dug up the dead, opening the tomb once more. “Dad died and you just —” Lily paused, the glass twirling between her fingers as she pressed her lips together for a moment. “You went back to work three days later and acted like nothing even happened,” she reminded her mother, though the evenness in her voice told Gerri this wasn’t the first time Lily had recounted the story of their shared past.
“I - I needed my mom and you weren’t there. Maddie was still a kid, Mom,” Lily continued and Gerri could have swore there was a glistening to her eyes. The Ice Princess with her tears that could not fall - that would not fall. Not even for her mother. Especially for her mother.
“I was there for you, Maddie as well, you just have to understand that work was -” Gerri started to protest, her own memories of those first few months, those first few years, having all blurred into one overtime. The years that she ignored her grief and threw herself into the job that had once been her husband’s, all the while fearing she would never be good enough for it. That the ‘boys club’ would eat her up and chew her back out again.
“You weren’t there, Mom. You locked yourself away at Waystar and we never saw you. Maybe for a minute or two in the day but that was it. My entire life fell apart and I ended up having to look after Maddie, I had to switch to NYU,” Lily began to set out her case, the scales of justice swinging in her favour, before Gerri cut her off. “You should have gone to Oxford like you wanted to,” she insisted, thinking of how that little golden star had fallen off course the day Baird died. “But I didn’t, because someone had to be there for Madeline,” Lily snapped, thinking of the years she had spent running from seminars and lectures to piano recitals and school pick ups so that her baby sister wouldn’t notice their mother missing.
Madeline had only been 12 years old when Baird died. Sometimes Gerri wondered if her youngest daughter had ever gotten a chance to properly grieve her father. Lily had protected the girl from the worst of it, carrying the burden of loss for both of them. Protecting her sister from the same storm that had almost pulled Gerri under the water and drowned her in a sea of her own sorrows.
“Lily, I’m -” Gerri started, not sure if she was about to apologise or plead her innocence to the charges of neglect. Lily raised her hand, pointing her index finger up to stop her mother, “Let me finish,” she said, leaning across the table to look her mother dead in the eyes.
“What do you even want , Mom? Do you want to be CEO? Because bloody hell, you’re about to hand the whole thing on a plate to him. You’ve been dancing with the devil since before I was born and now you’re in bed with the devil’s spawn,” Lily continued, the venom coating her voice as she glared her mother down, Gerri started to feel smaller in her seat with every passing moment.
“You shouldn’t call them that,” Gerri tried to protest, but she was struggling to maintain eye contact with her daughter. “Well, I won’t apologise for hating the man who put my father in an early grave,” Lily responded simply and Gerri was once again reminded of how the long-reach of Logan Roy had found its way into every part of her life. Just another reason why she and Roman couldn’t work. Not in the Waystar bubble. Not under the scrutiny of the man who had already taken one husband from her.
Lily took a long sip of her martini, setting it back down on the table before she spoke again. “He took him from me, from you, from us,” she declared, a bitterness on her lips as she pictured the man she would happily see cold and dead in the ground. “ It was a stress-induced heart attack, Lily, he didn’t stab your father in the chest,” Gerri insisted, telling herself the nicer lie, the one that had made it easier for her to walk back into Waystar three days after her husband died to take his seat in the same room he had dropped dead in.
“And how close have you come to a stress-induced heart attack because of that man?” Lily questioned, eyes narrowing as if she already knew the answer to that question. How many times had Gerri’s doctor warned her about stress? More than once she had mistaken the anxiety of the start of a panic attack for something worse.
Gerri sat silently as Lily continued to deliver her judgement. “You’ve let Logan Roy control your life from the day and hour you started working for him,” she recalled and Gerri once more was silent. There was no point arguing with the truth. “And that only got worse when Dad died,” Lily paused, the weight of her heart growing heavier in her chest as she started to fidget with the gold pendant around her neck. There was something engraved into the gold disc that Gerri couldn’t make out from across the table.
“You missed my graduation because he sent you off to Singapore on some bullshit acquisition. When was the last time you came to my birthday drinks? Or the last time you called me to talk about something other than Waystar or the Roys?” Lily asked, eyes glistening once more as her voice trailed off a little.
There was so much about Lily’s life that Gerri didn’t know. Secrets she had to keep from her own mother for fear of her happiness being tainted by the overbearing reach of Logan Roy. The poison dripped through. It always dripped through. It had infested itself into her life - into Madeline’s as well - but she wouldn’t let it drip down once more.
“You may as well just marry him and take the name. You’ve been a Roy as long as you’ve been a Kellman,” she concluded, tipping the remnants of her martini into her mouth to ground her as she twirled the ring on her finger.
That hit a nerve for Gerri. She didn’t want to be a Roy. Even if that meant getting to keep Roman. There was too much history between the two families, too much trauma at the hands of Logan Roy from both sides. But perhaps a family could be two people in a little penthouse apartment above New York. Gerri stopped her mind wandering that way by looking at the actual family member sitting across from her.
“Lily, what do I have to do to fix this?” Gerri asked, index finger anxiously scrapping at the side of her thumb. There was a pause for a moment as Lily composed herself, lips thinning as the Ice Princess dropped her sword and shield. “I don’t know, Mom,” Lily sighed, a part of her wishing there was a clear path forward. A simple road to follow to put things the way they should have been. But they couldn't bring the dead back to life and erase a decade’s worth of trauma.
“Can we try to fix this?” Gerri asked, heart pounding in her chest as she felt it happen again. The sands of time slipping through her fingers. Lily didn’t look convinced. “I want to fix this, Lily,” she pleaded, hand reaching out to grab Lily’s across the table, gripping on to it as if she had finally caught a star between her fingers. Gerri pushed back her chair to bend down towards her handbag, never letting go of Lily’s hand on the table as she sat upright with the little white box in her free hand.
“When you were little, your dad and I used to take you to museums at the weekend and you used to always beg us to take you to see the stars,” Gerri recalled, her mind taking her back to the days she would chase a younger Lily through the museum, Baird trailing behind them as they raced towards the same room. “The Starry Night,” Lily acknowledged, thinking of the miniature of the painting that sat beside her bed at her townhouse.
“I always think of you when I see the stars. You and your sister. Because wherever you are, you’re probably looking up at the same stars,” Gerri confessed, the tears starting to prick at the corner of her eye.
Lily always looked at the stars, seeing the same view of the New York skyline as her. Madeline could be as far away as the waters of the Agean and still gaze up at those same stars. A reminder that they existed in the same little pocket of time.
But the stars never seemed to guide either of her daughters home.
“I saw this and had to buy it for you,” Gerri explained, pushing the little white box across the table, letting go of Lily’s hand to let her pick it up. Lily lifted the box to reveal the small gold pendant underneath, a miniature of Van Gogh’s ‘The Starry Night’ staring back at her behind a panel of glass.
The scales of justice levelled just a little.
“Okay, mom,” Lily paused, fingertips dancing across the glass panel of the pendant before she closed the lid over the box once more. Gerri held her breath for a moment. “We can try,” the younger blonde decided, her index finger trailing over her bottom lip as she contemplated her next move. “But you have to promise me something,” she added, deciding they could only draw a line in the sand after she had said one final piece.
“Anything,” Gerri replied, not missing a beat, her heart a little lighter now. Lily crossed one leg across the other, leaning over the table as she took her mother’s hand.
“If you’re serious about Roman, you go the whole nine yards. Marry him if you want to, buy some white picket fence place in the Hamptons, get a dog - whatever makes you happy,” she declared, knowing that at the end of the day, her mother’s happiness was the one thing she wanted to see come out of this mess. “But if you let Logan Roy come between you - then this will all have been for nothing and you’ll lose everything again because of that man,” Lily continued, not letting the image of Logan Roy enter her mind for longer than a brief flicker. Gerri squeezed Lily’s hand, the voices in her head were silent as she listened to her daughter speak.
“I think you have to let someone in again. Give someone permission to love you,” Lily whispered, her voice breaking just a little as she put her free hand over their joint ones. “Like you’ve done?” Gerri questioned, knowing that someone had come along to rebuild Lily again after she fell apart.
Someone had broken the resolve of the ‘stone cold killer bitch’ and made her learn how to feel again. And it wasn’t just Roman who had achieved that feat.
“I’m very fortunate to have an understanding partner,” Lily revealed, a smile twitching in the corner of her lips. “When can I meet her?” Gerri asked, fingers still interwoven through Lily’s as she looked at the younger woman through new eyes for the first time. “Someday - it’s taken me a very long time to untangle my life from the shitshow of the Roy family, you can’t expect me to just stroll back in there and let,” Lily paused, feeling the venom gathering in her throat, “That man anywhere near me or the people I care about.”
She let go of Gerri’s hand as she caught sight of Pierre crossing the restaurant towards them with their two plates. Lily raised her finger to tell Gerri to wait just before he reached their table, setting down the two plates and asking if they needed anything. “Pierre, two more martinis - and keep them coming,” Lily ordered, the tension gone from her shoulders as she picked up her cutlery.
“Lily, I have a question,” Gerri said once Pierre was out of hearing range. “Uhm, okay,” Lily paused, her index finger picking at the skin on the side of her thumb as she waited for her mother’s question. “Is Maddie seeing someone? She called me the other day and I swear I heard a guy’s voice in the background,” Gerri questioned, not missing how Lily visibly relaxed upon realising the topic of conversation was her sister’s love life and not her own.
“I think there’s a guy travelling with her. She mentions him sometimes - Erik - he’s Danish I think, don’t ask me where she’s picked him up from, it could be anywhere between Paris and Istanbul,” Lily explained as mother and daughter fell back into easy conversation with each other as though the last ten years were simply water under the bridge, matching martinis in hand as they gossiped together.
It was several hours later before Gerri made it home, having texted Roman to let him know she’d be back a little later than planned. Lily had managed to convince Pierre to let them keep their table and Fredrick had picked her up from Balzathar at 8pm, trying to convince Lily to let him drop her off before another driver sharply arrived to take her home. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to Gerri that Fredrick had picked her up instead of one of the usual Waystar drivers, but she decided not to think too much about it for now. That could be a conversation for tomorrow - or better yet, Monday.
“What’s that smell?” Gerri called as she kicked off her heels by the door, putting them next to Roman’s loafers before she headed through the hallway towards the open-plan kitchen and lounge. She could hear the fan going above the stove. The same stove that had been sitting unused since she had moved into the penthouse apartment.
“I’m making pasta,” Roman shouted back, giving her at least some idea of what to expect as she turned the corner to find him standing in front of the stove in a white shirt with the sleeves bunched up above his elbows and black slacks without any shoes on. If only she had a frilly apron to finish off his outfit. “You’re making pasta?” Gerri questioned, hands on her hip as she took in the sight in front of her. “Please don’t burn down my kitchen,” she pleaded, the martinis quickly wearing off as she walked across the kitchen towards him.
“I’m not going to burn down your kitchen, take a chill pill, Vitamin G, I’ve watched like a dozen YouTube tutorials on this shit,” Roman insisted, stirring the wooden spoon around the pot to stop the pasta sticking to the bottom. “What did you get up to while I was away?” Gerri asked, assuming that he had either gone to the store to get groceries or had doordashed it all over.
“Pulled your closet apart and took a few souvenirs. Think you might need a new bath mat in your en-suite, G, made a bit of a mess in there,” Roman teased, relieved that everything at least appeared to have gone well with Lily. He had started to worry when he hadn’t heard anything after an hour or two until Gerri texted him back about them staying at the restaurant a little longer.
Gerri rolled her eyes as she opened the fridge door, taking out a Diet Coke before picking up a glass from the cabinet above her head. “Did you feed the tortoise?” she asked, adding a scoop of ice to her glass and pouring her drink over it. “Horus and I are like best friends,” Roman shrugged as he added the sauce to his pasta, watching as Gerri peered over his shoulder to look inside the pot. “Hey, get out of the kitchen,” he complained, tapping her on the waist to get her to move. “It’s my kitchen,” Gerri protested, trying to stand her ground. “Yeah and this is the first time anyone has ever used it, so move your ass over there,” Roman reminded her, nodding his head towards the lounge.
“Fine, I’ll put a movie on, just don’t go burning anything down,” Gerri agreed, reluctantly leaving the kitchen and heading towards the lounge, stopping to put her silk shawl onto the coat stand on her way past.
“How was the Ice Princess?” Roman asked as he went in search of two plates to have on stand-by for when the pasta would be ready. “You know - that was probably the most productive conversation I’ve had with her in a decade, but there’s something though,” Gerri paused as she thought back to the conversations they had over lunch and several martinis afterwards, “I can’t put my finger on it, but I think she’s keeping something from me”.
“Like what?’ Roman asked as he dug around the top cupboard at the end of the kitchen for the salt and pepper. “I’m not even sure, I think it’s got something to do with her girlfriend, but who knows,” Gerri shrugged as she made a beeline for the shelf of DVDs under the flatscreen TV that sat on a long oakwood shelving unit.
Daughters always kept secrets from their mother. Lily wasn’t any different. That’s what Gerri tried to convince herself of as she lifted out her copy of Sabrina, the plastic cover having seen better days after years of being pulled in and out of the shelves. She popped the DVD into the player before moving towards the sofa.
“Can you try not to poison me, please?” Gerri asked, looking towards the open-planned kitchen as she headed to the sofa, deciding they could just eat down there instead of standing on ceremony and sitting at the breakfast bar. “Gerri, this will be the second best thing of mine you’ll ever put in your mouth,” Roman insisted with a smirk as he took the pot off the stove and dug around for something to scoop the pasta up into to put on the plates.
“Don’t have to ask what the first thing is,” Gerri muttered with an eye roll as she plugged her phone into the charger next to the sofa, watching as her stack of notifications flashed up. It looked as if there hadn’t been anything from either of her assistants since 9am. That was odd. Although neither of them officially worked at the weekend, they usually texted her back and forth a few times to keep her up to date with the inbox and anything she’d need to know ahead of Monday morning.
Roman appeared beside her then, breaking her train of thought as he waited with the pasta bowl in hand to get her attention. “Your Michelin star dinner is served, M’lady,” he announced, giving her a short bow. Gerri eyed the pasta bowl suspiciously as Roman put it into her hands with an expecting look on his face. “It’s pasta, even I can’t fuck it up,” he assured her, holding out a fork for her to take before he headed back towards the kitchen.
There was a stack of cocktail napkins sitting on the counter-top that distracted him for a minute. Roman picked up the black pen from the side of the counter, glancing over at the sight of Gerri curled up on the sofa with a bowl of pasta in her lap as he picked up a napkin from the top of the pile. He scribbled down three words in his chicken scrawl handwriting - Pasta. Sex. Martinis. Roman looked up at Gerri as she sipped on her drink, eyes focused on the black and white screen in front of her. He circled the three words on the napkin twice before scribbling “The joys of G’s life” at the very bottom.
“What are you doing over there?” Gerri called over to him, twirling her fork around in the pasta, deciding she wouldn’t wait on him before starting. “Jerking off into your tea towels, Your Highness,” Roman mocked as he bent forward in a bow before turning around, looking for somewhere to leave the napkin for Gerri to find at a later time. The fridge would have to do. It was the only bit of the kitchen he could guarantee she would actually look at anytime in the next month. He took one of the little black circular magnets and used it to stick the napkin to the front of the fridge before picking up his pasta bowl and Coke.
“What’s the verdict?” Roman asked as he crossed the lounge towards her, the TV playing the opening credits behind him. “You know, it’s not half bad,” Gerri concluded, surprised by the fact that the food was more than edible. It wasn’t the worst pasta she had ever tasted, mainly because it was all store bought ingredients. “We could make a pasta chef out of you yet - even if all you did was boil some water and add a sauce,” she teased, popping another forkful of pasta into her mouth.
“You’re still eating it,” Roman observed, taking it as a win as he sat himself down on the sofa. “Only because pasta is my one true love,” she reminded him, wondering if that was why he had chosen pasta as his first dish to tackle on his culinary adventure of learning how to cook. “I’ll try not to take that personally, G,” Roman assured her as he took the first bite of his pasta.
‘Love’ was a word she refused to use in this situation. It was - well, nothing more than a bit of fun for now. Love was a loaded word and one that could do more harm than good.
“What are we watching?” Roman asked, nodding his head towards the television as he made himself comfortable on the other side of the sofa while Gerri put her feet up onto the coffee table. “Sabrina,” she answered, nodding her head towards the TV as it showed a young Audrey Hepburn hiding in the trees as she spied on one of Long Island’s most talked about parties, watching as a man danced with a glamorous blonde-haired woman in his arms.
“Is it another of your Cary Grant movies?” Roman questioned, putting his feet up onto the coffee table next to Gerri’s. “No, it’s Humphrey Bogart,” she corrected him, twirling her fork around the bowl to mix the pasta and the sauce a little more. “Humphrey Bo-what now?” Roman asked with his mouth full of pasta before he took a sip of his Coke. “Bogart,” she repeated, eyes narrowing as she glared at him suspiciously, “This is where you tell me you’ve never seen Casablanca, isn’t it?” Gerri quizzed, dropping the pasta bowl into her lap as she turned to look at him. “Casa-what now?” Roman teased, although he had truthfully never heard of the movie before. “I hope you know,” Gerri paused, chewing on another forkful of pasta before continuing, “This pasta is the only reason I’m not kicking you out for that.”
Roman had learnt - yet again - that “the black and white shit” was actually watchable. He had taken the empty plates and loaded everything into the dishwasher half way through the movie before coming back with two martinis in hand to watch the rest of it.
He placed the two martinis down before stepping behind the sofa on his way to drop the olive jar back on the bar cart. “Have you seen my lighter?” Gerri asked, feeling the need for a cigarette still lingering from your lunch with Lily. It had given her plenty to think about, even if it had gone far better than she had expected. Her daughter’s words - as much a warning as a call to action - were replaying themselves on an endless loop in her head. She turned the cigarette packet between her fingers as she waited for his answer.
“Yeah, it’s here,” Roman said, picking up the lighter from the side of the bar cart where she must have put it back before she left to see Lily. Gerri held her hand up for the lighter, but she turned her head when she heard the distinctive click of it opening. “I’ve got you,” Roman offered, holding the lighter outstretched as he waited for her to nod, the cigarette already between her red-coated lips as he lit the flame and brought it towards the cigarette. He waited for the flame to catch before putting the closed lighter into her hand.
Roman leaned down over the back of the sofa, his head next to Gerri’s as he plucked the cigarette from between her fingers after she took her first puff, putting his lips over the red stain she had left behind. “Get your own,” Gerri complained, standing up from the sofa as Roman walked around it, dropping himself down on the space she had just occupied. “But it tastes better coming from your lips,” he contended, taking another long drag of the cigarette as if to prove his point.
Gerri rolled her eyes as she opened the cigarette box in her hand once more, while stepping forward to retrieve her own cigarette. “Open up,” she instructed, before popping a fresh cigarette between Roman’s lips as he looked up at her expectantly. “Do I have to do everything for you?” Gerri complained as he wrapped his arms around the back of her legs to hold her in place between his knees. She turned the little black lighter with a gold top and side that Roman had used only a minute or so ago in her hand. The lighter clicked, the yellow flame flickering as she slowly moved it towards the cigarette, waiting for it to catch before she pulled away.
Roman beckoned her forward, hands moving her into his lap as he inhaled the cigarette. Chapped lips pressed against red lacquer as he kissed her, feeling the smoke travel between them before he pulled away.
“You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy, do you know that?’” Gerri scolded, toying her own cigarette between her fingers as she slipped off his lap a little, positioning her back against the armrest of the sofa with her legs stretched out over his knees. “Yes, you have told me that before,” he reminded her with a smirk, one arm coming to rest over her legs, fingers trailing up below the hemline of her dress, content to feel her smooth skin under his hand.
“Ger,” Roman said a few minutes later when Gerri had gone back to watching the movie, her head resting against his shoulder. “Yeah?” she asked, eyes still fixed on the screen. “This isn’t a six week thing,” he told her in a self-assured tone as her eyes flickered from the TV screen to his face. Gerri sighed as she lifted her head and shifted a little against the armrest, his arm holding her legs in place over his lap. “Rome, it is. That’s all we’ve got. These next four weeks,” she insisted, already feeling like this was a conversation that wouldn’t get them very far.
“Why?” Roman asked with a shrug, refusing to take that as an actual answer. He had spent most of the day alone in his thoughts thinking about this very subject. Gerri was overcomplicating it as she always did. Thinking of all the consequences instead of the potential they had together. Letting her head overrule everything else. “Because it wouldn’t work,” she said, not knowing if she was telling the nice lie or simply being delusional with herself.
“Yes, it would,” Roman countered, hand moving under the hemline of her dress, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “No, it wouldn’t. It’s all too complicated,” Gerri insisted again, part of her wishing it could all be more straightforward - that Waystar and the Roys weren’t lingering over them like dark clouds rolling in, the first signs of a storm on the horizon.
Roman shook his head, not preparing to back down just yet as he picked her hand up with his free one. “It works here, can’t we just stay here?” he suggested, having already decided he would happily spend the rest of his days within the walls of the penthouse apartment. Everything he needed was within those walls. “We can’t hide in my apartment for the rest of eternity,” Gerri countered, as nice of an idea as that would be. They would probably end up killing each other within a week with poor Horus having to fend for himself.
“I don’t see why we can’t,” Roman tried again as he took another puff of his cigarette, being able to picture it all so clearly in his mind. The straight road ahead with a guiding green light to take them through the storm. “Be serious, Rome,” Gerri scolded, wiggling her legs free before she turned to get up from the sofa, picking up her martini glass as she went. She needed some space to think. It was harder to say no to Roman when they were sitting like that.
Roman groaned as he sat forward, elbows pressed against his thighs as he watched Gerri start to pace around the room, Humphrey Bogart’s face flickering on the screen behind her. “What do I have to do then?” he asked, folding his hands together as he twirled the cigarette between his fingers.
Gerri took a sip of her martini, wondering how many difficult conversations she could have in one day with a martini in hand. “We stage this fake breakup at the RECNY then we - I don’t know - try to make this work without everyone breathing down our necks or knowing about our business,” she tried, wishing there was a way they could simply shut the apartment door and pretend the Roys and Waystar just didn’t exist.
Roman smirked at that, feeling like he had already caught her out. “Fake breakup? So we’re a thing now,” he concluded, tongue licking the top of his lips as he watched Gerri stop her pacing to glare down at him. “Don’t go twisting my words, Rome,” she muttered as she wrapped her lips around the cigarette.
He shook his head as he stood from the sofa and walked towards her, hands pressed against his back. “I’m going to marry you someday, you should know that,” Roman declared with every ounce of confidence in him. It was the one thing he was willing to bet his bottom dollar on. “Whatever you say, Rome,” Gerri chuckled, switching the cigarette for the martini glass, pressing it against her lips as Audrey Hepburn’s voice came from the TV beside her. “I’m being deadly fucking serious,” Roman insisted, taking her half-empty martini glass from her, “I’m going to buy you a hideously expensive ring and marry you.”
Gerri raised an eyebrow, now realising that he wasn’t joking. “Just put the GDP of a small country on my ring finger,” she suggested, though she wouldn’t let herself think beyond tonight. That was the only way they were going to make it through this mess - but taking it one day at a time. “Would that make you say yes?” Roman asked, wondering if he could count this as the third time he had proposed to her in a roundabout way.
“This is a silly conversation, Rome,” Gerri insisted once more, not wanting to let herself think about it any further. “It’s a serious conversation, Ger,” Roman said determinedly before he took the martini glass and headed back into the kitchen with all the confidence of someone who lived there.
Lily’s voice echoed in Gerri’s head again as she watched Roman starting to top up her drink, the movie still playing in the background. This was an all or nothing situation, whatever way she tried to cut it. For now, they just had to get to the RECNY ball then figure it out from there.
But Gerri could feel the familiar rubble of thunder in the distance. Something was shifting above them. A dark cloud rolling in to throw everything off its axis.
Whatever it was, it was Monday’s problem.
Chapter 11: The Water You Need
Notes:
So, I sort of hit a mental wall with this chapter and have zero idea how it's ended up being *so* long. Sorry about that! But during said mental wall being hit, I rediscovered a poem from Milk and Honey that felt very TLWT coded. I've dropped the most relevant snippet into the start of this chapter and you'll see it referenced a few times throughout (along with the usual Easter eggs!)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
i am not a hotel room i am home,
i am not the whiskey you want,
i am the water you need.
don’t come here with expectations
and try to make a vacation out of me
- ‘Milk and Honey’ by Rupi Kaur
Fredrick Nelson had worked for Roman Roy for almost four years. As a chauffeur, there was a lot he’d learn simply from driving someone around a city. Whether it was their taste in coffee, what music they liked to listen to, or the random tidbits of information he would get from one-sided conversation he wasn’t meant to overhear. If there was one thing Fredrick knew about Roman Roy, it was that he was serious about Gerri Kellman. Serious enough to put almost every other aspect of his life on hold for her.
“Have you and the missus moved in together or something?” Fredrick called over the roof of the SUV as he spotted Roman striding out of Gerri’s apartment complex. He had assumed Roman would be there, but the text the younger man had sent him the night before had simply said to pick up from Gerri’s apartment and not his. “If she hears you calling her that, you’ll be fending for yourself, Freddie boy,” Roman warned as he walked around the car to stand next to the chauffeur at the hood of the Aston Martin DBX.
“Where is she anyway?” Fredrick asked, having grown used to the sight of Gerri appearing within a few steps of Roman - if she wasn’t walking alongside him. “Still getting ready, I just needed to speak to you before we headed off,” Roman replied, slipping his hands into his pockets as he looked around at the passing cars. The younger man’s awkward shifting from foot to foot told the chauffeur what the conversation was about.
“Yes, I spoke to Emily at the weekend,” Fredrick confirmed, still able to hear the panic in the younger woman’s voice as she recounted the information Roman had given her over the phone. “I’ll keep an eye out but I think your problem is already getting ahead of us,” he warned, nodding his head discreetly off into the distance, “Black Range Rover a block back tailed me most of the way here.” Roman shook his head, “Shit,” he muttered, biting his tongue from saying too much else.
“Who do you think ordered it?” Fredrick questioned, though he was willing to bet his licence on who it was. “My dad, probably, or someone thinking they’re acting on behalf of him,” Roman replied, making himself look back towards the door of Gerri’s apartment complex to stop him from going up to the Range Rover and demanding answers. “You don’t think there’s an actual security threat there, do you?” he asked, pressing his lips together as he tried to avoid lingering on that thought for any longer than needed. “No, I think we’re fine, unless you class a long-distance lens as a security threat,” Fredrick replied, the seriousness in his voice making it clear that he didn’t think they were fine, “A long-distance lens could be a dozen other things.”
Roman didn’t need the reminder. He had seen enough B-rated movies and wanna-be political dramas to know how easily a long-range lens could become something else. Fredrick cleared his throat, breaking Roman’s train of thought. “Missus is up,” the British chauffeur whispered as he nudged Roman on the arm before making his way around to the driver’s seat.
Gerri stepped out of the apartment complex, her red Max Mara trench coat giving her blonde hair a golden sheen and hiding her usual black suit underneath. The Manolo heels Roman had bought her that weekend were making their office debut. Roman whistled at her as he held open the car door, “The lady in red,” he greeted with a smirk, elevator eyes taking in the sight of the silk red trench coat he had teased her about over the weekend. It was one of those pieces that seemed frozen in time, as if it had been made just for her.
“I told you I’d wear it if you were a good boy,” Gerri reminded him, adjusting her sunglasses as she moved past him to get into the car, setting her handbag down first before getting in. Roman walked around the back of the car to get in the other side, chancing a glance at the black Range Rover a block behind them before getting in.
“I have a question,” Gerri began as the car pulled away from the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the Waystar Royco offices. “Shoot, G-Spot,” Roman replied, scrolling through his emails on his phone. It seemed Emily had held back as much as she could over the weekend before dumping it all on him first thing Monday morning.
There were 316 unread emails, 86 text messages, and 21 missed calls. The perfect way to start a Monday morning.
“Why have neither of my assistants been in touch all weekend?” Gerri asked accusingly as she crossed one leg over the other, the Manolo Mary Janes catching Roman’s attention as she did. “Why are you asking me?” Roman shrugged by way of pleading his innocence. “Because I have a sixth sense for when you’ve done something, Rome,” Gerri reminded him as she looked at him over the top of her glasses - knowing exactly what that look did to him.
It took him all of five seconds to break.
“Look, I may have told Emily to get them to give you the weekend free without any work stuff,” Roman revealed, dropping his phone into his lap as he put his hands up in mock surrender. “I know you think you have to manage everything, but there are thousands of people paid very good money to keep everything ticking along while we’re not there,” he insisted, having caught her multiple times over the weekend trying to do work. Roman had eventually taken to disconnecting the WiFi router and playing dumb to get her to stop.
“We could bugger off to Paris for the weekend and no-one would be any the wiser,” he joked, leaning across the empty middle seat between them. “We are not buggering off to Paris,” Gerri insisted, not wanting to let that particular thought root itself in her mind. “Why, where would you rather go?” Roman questioned, thinking back to the pictures he had found during his first visit to Gerri’s apartment. Those pictures blurred into the background a little more now, no longer a surprising part of Gerri’s personality. “This is a silly conversation, Rome,” Gerri returned, fiddling with her sunglasses in her left hand. “You say that a lot, G,” he teased with a smirk as he picked up the phone in his lap.
Fredrick glanced through the rear-view mirror at the couple in the back in time to catch Roman take Gerri’s hand and curl his fingers through hers before he called Emily.
Karolina had a bad habit of hiding out in Gerri’s office. It more often than not happened when Hugo would get on her last nerve. When she would come this close to considering giving him a polite nudge out the nearest window. Though knowing her luck, Hugo would survive the fifty floor drop. Today was one of those days when a manslaughter charge sounded like a willing price to pay to get the man to finally shut up.
“Someday, I am going to call you from Rikers Island to bail me out,” Karolina announced as she shut the door of Gerri’s office at 1 pm. “What has Hugo done this time?” Gerri asked, closing down the lid of her laptop to give Karolina her full attention. Anything less and the PR Executive could finally crack. “Ugh, I don’t want to hear that man’s name right now,” Karolina declared, her shoulders tensing as she curled her hands into fists before taking a deep breath and practising the breathing exercises her pilates instructor had tried to drill into her.
“Enough about me. How was it playing hooky?” she asked once her blood pressure started to drop a little. “Does everyone know about that?” Gerri questioned with a raised eyebrow, suspecting that most of their colleagues had to put two and two together without needing much help. “Gerri, you’ve not taken a sick day in like eight years and that was only because you had pneumonia. You and Roman both having a ‘sick day’ said it all,” Karolina reminded her, sitting herself down on the visitor’s chair across from Gerri’s desk.
The executives had worked it out by 11 am that Friday morning.
Gerri groaned as she put her hand to her face, covering her eyes for a moment. She was likely never going to live this down. “So…did you take my advice?’ Karolina asked, leaning forward in her seat as she grinned at Gerri. They usually had a strict ‘ no personal life unless someone is dying’ rule for the office, but it seemed both of them were willing to make an exception when it came to anything to do with Roman. “Not to the letter,” Gerri replied after a moment, glancing out the glass partition in the hopes of catching Alice or Nancy’s eye to come and rescue her.
“What does that mean?” Karolina questioned as she sat wide eyed across from her friend. Part of her had been amused by the idea of Roman and Gerri playing hooky to spend the day acting on her advice. “God, this feels like I’m back in college,” Gerri sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, knowing that now Karolina had the bit between her teeth.
“Come on, Ger,” Karolina pleaded, folding her hands together as she looked across the desk at the blonde woman. The more time she spent talking to Gerri about her love life, the less likely she was to commit manslaughter.
Gerri sighed as she shook her head at Karolina’s attempt at bambi eyes. “We’ve done everything but that and to be honest with you –” she paused, looking across the glass partition to the empty office across the way. Roman must have been out at a meeting because both Nick and Emily were sitting with Alice and Nancy. “I think it would be the last straw if we did, because I’m trying to keep some sort of clear mind about this whole mess,” she confessed, biting down on the side of her lip, smudging a little of her lipstick in the process.
“You’re not still planning to stage this breakup, are you?” Karolina asked, wondering what it would take for Gerri to admit defeat and let herself be happy. “Absolutely,” Gerri insisted, the statement coming out a little sharper than intended. “Lina, even if we were to have some sort of a relationship, it wouldn't be like this,” she added, repeating the same thing she had said to herself and Roman on more than occasion.
But how could they get ‘back together’ after such a public breakup? Every option seemed to make things even more complicated - except staying together. But they weren’t together. They simply existed within the walls of her penthouse apartment like two people happily trapped in a limbo of their own making.
It was no different to hiding out in hotel rooms and drinking expensive whiskey to pass the time. It was no different than treating their time together like a weekend vacation that just repeated itself for a brief window of time. Neither of them should have expectations of the other.
But she did and she knew Roman had as well. And this had stopped feeling like a vacation with master bedrooms and martinis replacing the hotel rooms and whisky. This wasn’t Tern Haven anymore.
“I still think you should just fuck him,” Karolina declared in a smug tone, narrowly dodging the piece of crumbled up paper that Gerri threw her way.
The afternoon went on without too much more fanfare. Karolina slipped back into her own office when her assistant texted her to let her know that Hugo was out for the rest of the afternoon. Gerri altered between reading the latest GoJo acquisition proposals and doom scrolling through her emails. Everything pointed towards a relatively boring evening that Gerri would probably spend contemplating her conversation with Karolina until she heard a commotion through the glass partition.
The four assistants were huddled in a circle with Alice in the centre. Gerri fixed her glasses as she tried to figure out what was happening. Nick and Nancy were debating back and forth before he pushed Gerri’s second assistant towards the door. Gerri braced herself for whatever chaos was about to unfold.
“Gerri, okay, so like, don’t panic, ” Nancy announced as she walked into her boss’ office. Gerri wondered if the girl’s complexion had always been so pale or if she was on the verge of passing out. “You know if you tell someone to not panic they’re more likely to panic, right?” Gerri asked as she stood from her desk before a dark thought past her mind, “Is it Roman or the girls? Is everyone okay?” she questioned, her voice going up a few octaves as she rounded the desk towards her second assistant. “Yeah, yeah, everyone’s fine. No one’s dying,” Nancy assured her, her breath quickening as Gerri started to worry about whether the girl might be about to have a panic attack.
Nancy glared through the glass divide towards Alice’s desk, praying that the first assistant would get off the phone as Gerri reached her side. “Nanc?” she asked, reaching out to touch the girl’s arm. “It’s the New York Times,” her assistant declared, biting at her lip as she contemplated the quickest way to get Nick Carter to the Hudson River to push him in. It was all his fault that she had drawn the short straw and been sent to break the news to Gerri.
“Alice said something about them wanting an interview,” Gerri acknowledged, nodding her head as she waited for the assistant to finally spit out whatever news she had to deliver. Clearly they wanted more than an interview if Nancy looked on the verge of an anxiety attack. Her younger assistant was even more prone to overthinking than she was - her mind more often than not jumping to the worst case scenario. “Yeah, I think we’re no longer at an interview stage,” Nancy whispered as she shot a glance to her right expectantly.
The door creaked open once more as Alice stepped inside, Nick and Emily right behind her. “We’ve all had the New York Times on the phone,” Alice announced, the first assistant finally stepping up to take over from her junior counterpart. Gerri felt her jaw start to clench. Clearly the New York Times wanted more than just a puff piece about the GoJo acquisition or some half-arsed article about getting more women into C-suite positions.
“They’re asking you to confirm or deny, either way they’re running the story later today,” Alice continued, stepping further into the room and to the side of Gerri’s desk. “To confirm or deny what?” Gerri asked, wishing that at least one of the assistants would just speak in plain English. “Your relationship with Roman,” Emily replied, before going back to texting on her phone again. No doubt trying to get a hold of Roman.
Everything went a little slower then.
This was not part of the plan.
“They claim to have photographs,” Nancy added, the three female assistants now spaced out across the room. Nick leaned back against the desk as he kept his focus on the polished toe box of his black Oxford shoes. Hugo must have tipped off the photographer after he had texted him when they spotted Roman and Gerri out for breakfast. The rational part of Nick’s mind told him this was an inevitability. A photographer would have found them out together eventually.
But the GoJo deal and the cruise scandal meant that there was even scrutiny on Waystar and the Roys. Another ‘ scandal’ in the private lives of the Roys was guaranteed to drive clicks and ad revenue through the roof. Nick knew enough to know that the New York Times wouldn’t have been the only publication offered those photos.
“Where’s Roman?” Gerri asked, moving away from Nancy to walk across the room towards Emily. “In a virtual conference meeting with Matsson and Logan,” Emily replied, though Gerri could see that she was blowing up Roman’s iMessage. But a conference meeting with Matsson directly involved meant they couldn’t pull him out. “Course he is,” Gerri tutted as she started to pace around the office, the four assistants looking between each other.
Gerri had to make the decision herself. She already knew what Roman would have been telling her to do.
Emily cleared her throat. “Roman called me on Saturday morning to say he thought someone had been following you the day before - he reckoned it was a photographer,” she revealed, deciding that it was about time that Gerri knew about it, especially now that Roman’s theory had been proven correct. “Why didn’t he tell me?” Gerri demanded, feeling a sudden urge to hit him with her Manolos - and not in the way he liked.
Roman’s first assistant looked between her three counterparts before stepping forward, feeling like she was being called to the Headmistress’ office. “Look, Gerri, if I can…I guess, be blunt about it all?” Emily asked, popping her phone into the pocket of her tweed dress. “Go ahead,” Gerri said, crossing her arms as she gave the younger woman the floor. “I think he didn’t want to worry you. He wanted to give you the weekend to take a break, which you a hundred percent deserved. Just none of us put the dots together about this New York Times thing,” Emily explained, hoping she could at least lower the probability of her boss being on the receiving end of a lecture.
It was Gerri’s first assistant who stepped forward next. “Ger, I’m so sorry, I just thought this was another boring business feature,” Alice apologised, thinking of the text she had sent her boss on Friday afternoon. The New York Times had been on her back about it all weekend but Roman had told them to stay radio silent to give Gerri a break. Maybe if they had spoken to the journalist they would have had time to get a proper response together - instead of debating it right as the article was about to go to print.
“What do they claim to have photos of?” Gerri asked, picking at the polish on her thumb as she tried to work through the problem rationally - as if it was one of her exam papers back in law school. Ignore the panic. Focus on the problem. “They vary - everything from you leaving a restaurant together to walking along the sidewalk and coming out of Bergdorf’s together,” Nancy replied, having managed to steady herself by sitting down on the conference table next to Nick.
“Well, those are hardly…” Gerri began, but stopped when all four assistants shook their heads in turn. “I’m told some of them make it very clear you’re an item,” Emily insisted, though none of the four assistants had gotten eyes on the pictures in question, they knew their bosses well enough to know it was probably correct. Gerri puckered her lips for a second before shaking her head, one hand coming to rest on her forehead, “Anything since Friday?” she asked, wondering if the ground could simply open up and end this madness.
Where the fuck was Roman when she needed him?
“They claim to have photos of you both coming and going from your apartment all weekend,” Nancy revealed, arms folded as she sat on top of the meeting table at the other side of the room, Nick standing by her side.
The door of Gerri’s office opened once more, Waystar’s Head of PR appearing with two phones in her hand. “Gerri, I need to - oh, do you already know?” Karolina paused at the door, eyes set on the Kellman-Roy assistants. The four of them shyly greeted the Executive with a mixture of waves and nods.
“Right, everyone out,” Gerri announced, shooing the four assistants towards the door. Alice, the loyal assistant who thought the whole mess was her fault, looked reluctant to leave. Nancy stepped back to pull on Alice’s arm, dragging her out of the office behind Roman’s two assistants. Karolina stepped back into the room after the assistants left, shutting the door behind them.
“What the fuck are we meant to do now?” Gerri exclaimed, walking back around towards her desk to sit down, “It’s one thing for people here to know, it’s another for it to be splashed over The New York Times,” she continued, starting to spiral like Nancy had done when she came into the office. “Jesus Christ, they’re going to write it up as some power grab aren’t they?” Gerri asked, but it came out more like a statement than a question. She had been in this business long enough to know exactly how they would write this up. “I would take that as a given,” Karolina confirmed, looking between her phone screen and Gerri as she continued to type.
“What do we do, Karolina?” Gerri consulted the PR executive, knowing they only had a short window of time before the newspaper would be publishing their article. “Do you want my professional opinion or – actually, they’re the same,” Karolina paused, sitting herself down on the visitor’s chair as she closed her phone screen for a moment, “Stand firm. Confirm it. The pictures are going to damn you either way,” she advised.
“Okay,” Gerri paused, a thousand thoughts running through her mind. It was a fight or flight response - an automatic reaction, “Confirm it.” The words were out of her mouth before Gerri had enough time to talk herself out of it.
“Let me get the Editor on the phone, I’ll see if we can get a few friendly lines in there with a little cooperation,” Karolina announced, putting a game plan together as she dialled a number on her phone before heading back out onto the executive floor to find a quiet corner to take her call.
Gerri picked up her phone from her desk, hitting the pinned text thread at the top of her iMessage, typing “We have a problem” and pressing send.
The four Kellman-Roy assistants were stationed at their desks in the middle of the executive floor between Roman and Gerri’s office, each typing away on their respective devices to see what info they could gather. Alice glanced up at Karolina as the woman walked past them and towards the little corner off by the elevators to make her call.
“Gird your loins,” Alice whistled towards the other three assistants as the elevator doors opened and a blonde haired woman appeared from behind the metal doors. “Who is that?” Nick hissed to Nancy as the pair of them slammed their laptop screens down, standing up behind their desks. “You’re about to find out,” Nancy whispered back, eyes focused on the woman as her heels clicked and clacked against the floor as she walked.
“Lily!” Karolina exclaimed, hanging up her phone as she turned around to face the younger woman, falling into step beside her. “How did you even get up here?” she asked, part of her wondering if Lily was heading to Gerri’s office to deliver the same news she had just given. “Your security is shit - my old pass still works,” Lily explained, flashing the old Waystar Royco pass with a picture of her 16-year old self on it in her Daulton uniform.
“Who gave you a pass?” Emily asked as the four assistants stepped forward to block the other woman’s path towards Gerri’s office. Emily was willing to bet that seeing her daughter was the last thing Gerri needed right now. “My dad,” Lily replied sharply and Alice felt her heart drop a little. “Oh who is –” Nick asked from the other side of the assistants’ little pod of desks, before biting his tongue to stop himself from yelping. “Nick, shut the fuck up,” Nancy hissed, stepping on the man’s foot to get him to close his mouth.
Lily stopped mid-stride to turn to look at the four assistants with narrowed eyes. Emily took a step back as she watched the other woman zone in on Gerri’s two assistants, instinctively figuring out which assistant belonged to who. Nancy sat herself down in her chair again, while Alice straightened her shoulders. There was something about her mother’s two assistants that Lily had spotted instantly. Something Emily had realised herself as she looked from Gerri’s daughter to Alice.
“You two even look like us - Madeline and I,” Lily observed as Nancy sank lower in her seat, praying for the ground to open up and swallow her whole to save her from Medusa’s stare. Alice felt a pang of guilt run through her. She knew enough about Gerri’s relationship with her eldest daughter to know it was complicated at best. Waystar and the Roys had long been put ahead of the Kellmans - even where Lily and her sister were concerned.
The first daughter and first assistant stood face to face. “Your mother is dealing with a crisis,” Alice announced, looking the woman up and down from her black patent Louboutins to her bouncy blonde curls. “Whatever fire she’s putting out can hold for five minutes, I have a bigger crisis for her to deal with,” Lily insisted, switching her bag from her left hand to her right one as she stepped forward again.
“Lily?” Gerri questioned, stopping in the door frame as she took in the sight of her eldest daughter standing on the Executive floor for the first time in over a decade. “I need to talk to you,” Lily announced, not waiting for an invitation before making a beeline into the office, her mind not registering where she was going.
Alice went to follow them but Lily unceremoniously shut the door in her face. The first assistant glared daggers through the glass partition before turning around in time to hear her counterpart speak.
“Where have you been?!” Emily cried as she caught sight of Roman appearing from one of the conference rooms. “I got a text from Gerri, where’s the fire?” he asked and Alice realised then the man had clearly high-tailed it from the conference room, leaving behind his blazer in the process.
Emily raised an eyebrow. He had ignored the dozen or so panicked text messages she had sent him in the last ten minutes but came running the second Gerri sent one text.
God, Gerri had him trained like a dog.
“Oh shit, Lily’s here,” Roman muttered, catching sight of the two blonde women through the glass partition into Gerri’s office. “Yeah, but that’s not the problem we have here,” Emily announced as she waved Roman towards her laptop where she had the email from the Editor working on the article sitting on her screen.
“Listen, Mom, you have a problem,” Lily declared inside Gerri’s office as she paced back and forth in her heels after dropping her bag down onto the conference table. “I know the New York Times is running a story on us, is that why you’re here?” Gerri questioned, not able to think of anything else - except something happening to Maddie - that would make her eldest daughter storm into the Waystar office. Lily nodded her head as she put her hands on her hips, resting them on the peplum panel of her Self-Portrait jumpsuit. “They tried to sell the pictures to us,” she explained, having been tipped off by a friend in the photography department about the photos only forty minutes beforehand.
Gerri resisted the temptation to groan. Lily’s revelation meant it was unlikely that the New York Times was the only publication working on the story - but they most certainly were rushing to be the one to break it. “I appreciate that you came to try and warn me in person,” she told Lily, taking it as a sign that their lunch at Balthazar had started a new chapter for them, “That means a lot, Lily.”
The eldest of the Kellman daughters nodded her head, eyes glancing out through the glass towards the four assistants, narrowing as she spotted Roman standing with them. “Do you have any advice on how we should handle this?” Gerri asked, stepping towards her daughter as she tried to get her attention again. “I think we both know you have no real choice in this,” Lily said simply, crossing her arms in front of her, slightly defensively. “Karolina basically said the same thing,” Gerri agreed, giving herself a second to take in the sight of Lily standing in the middle of her office.
The last time she had been there Baird was still alive and their relationship was entirely different.
“This could play well for you though,” Lily decided, breaking the silence as she stepped around her mother. “What do you mean?” Gerri asked, eyes following her eldest daughter. “Things aren’t how they used to be, you’re an older woman who has a rather clean reputation - unlike most of the men on this ship,” Lily pursed her lips as she put a game plan together in her head, “You just to present a united front - you and Roman that is - you could always challenge the old man.”
It was only when Lily moved to sit down on the sofa that her mind caught up with where she was.
A decade had passed since the last time she was in this room, yet Lily still hadn’t laid her father to rest. Somehow, she had gotten to the Executive floor before her mind had fully registered where she was. Her dad’s office. It hadn’t changed much in the years since the last time she had stood in that room.
She had always been scared of ghosts. Of echoes of a girlhood lost at the hands of Logan Roy’s cruelty. Her father’s death had brought a sense of disturbing clarity. The Kellmans had never mattered to the Roys. That same sense of clarity was coming back to her now.
Her eyes looked over to the desk and for a moment - one brief, gut-wrenching moment - her mind pictured him sitting behind it. Sitting there with a copy of National Geographic with the biggest mug of coffee she had ever seen. He’d always make her promise not to tell anyone that he poured an extra two sugars into it after his assistant delivered it.
“Logan’s a sick fuck for giving you this office,” Lily declared, feeling her jaw start to tense as she curled her fingers around the armrest of the sofa. “I didn’t really have much say, this is the General Counsel’s office,” Gerri told her, though she didn’t want to admit to Lily that she had insisted on them changing the carpets before she moved out of her old office and into this one. The carpets had still smelt of Baird’s coffee and she couldn’t get the image of him stretched across it, gasping for air in his final moments, out of her head.
“You know what, fuck it, go the whole nine yards. Confirm it then start to court the board, there’s no reason why you two couldn’t ride the publicity from this to kick Logan out for good and make you CEO indefinitely,” Lily decided, standing up from the sofa as she adjusted her jumpsuit, heading towards the conference table to pick up her bag so that she could leave her father’s ghost behind.
“Why would I want to be the permanent CEO?” Gerri asked, turning to watch Lily as the younger woman headed towards the door. Lily stopped, her fingers curled around the handle as she turned to look at the empty desk once occupied by her father. “Spite is as good a reason to do it, Mother,” she told Gerri, before opening the door and stepping out of the room.
The four assistants looked up in unison as they heard the door handle click. Lily stepped out first, followed closely by Gerri. Most of the mid-ranking executives whose desks were located around the assistants’ were out for the afternoon, giving them as much privacy as you could have in an open-floor office. “Roman,” Lily greeted, nodding her head towards the man as Gerri came to a stop at Alice's desk.
“Your highness,” Roman acknowledged with a nod, “Time for a coffee?” he asked, glancing over Lily’s shoulder to look at Gerri and Karolina as the PR Executive ended another phone call to speak briefly to the interim CEO. “I’m afraid, I can’t. I have to go and pick someone up at 4,” Lily explained, though Roman took it as a win that she hadn’t told him where to shove his coffee.
Nancy raised an eyebrow at that. Who would Lily be picking up at 4 o’clock in the afternoon? Maybe her girlfriend was one of those infamous ‘ ladies who lunch’ and didn’t have to work for her money. That would explain the emerald cut aquamarine ring on Lily’s right hand. Maybe Lily’s girlfriend had an equally wealthy brother? Nancy could but hope.
“What’s this little family get-together we have going on in the middle of the floor?”
Kerry’s voice pierced through the gathering in the centre of the cubicles. Karolina and Gerri exchanged a glance, while Roman nodded his head towards Lily as their eyes met. The eldest Kellman daughter took a breath before putting on her well-trained poker face, turning to walk towards Kerry.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Lily announced, knowing she could at least give her mother and Roman some cover to continue to work on a response with the assistants. “I’m Lily Kellman,” she introduced herself, her right hand stretched out for the other woman to shake.
“Oh, you’re a fashion girl, that explains all the,” Kerry paused, ignoring the hand offered to her as her elevator eyes looked Lily up and down disapprovingly, “Stuff.”
The gathering fell silent then. The assistants stopped typing on their phones and laptops. Roman resisted the urge to stuff his fist down his throat to keep him from laughing while Alice dropped her head into her hands, knowing what was coming next.
“The…. stuff?” Lily questioned, head tilted as her eyelashes fluttered. Gerri knew that look all too well. If only Logan had been there to witness it. “Yeah, I mean, who do you think you are in that get-up?” Kerry questioned, sipping on her green smoothie as she nodded towards the blonde woman again.
Lily licked her lips, the red lacquer not moving an inch as she stepped a little closer to Kerry. “ Oh, I see. You think my career has nothing to do with you. Let me see, you’re wearing a woven leather pouch bag,” Lily began, nodding her head towards the oversized bag that Kerry had hanging off her shoulder, “Because you’re trying to tell the world you have money but you’re classy enough not to wear a logo the size of a Times Square billboard.”
“But what you don’t know is that your bag isn’t just a pouch bag, it’s an intrecciato leather bag that Bottega Veneta first showed for Spring/Summer 2020 when Daniel Lee was reinventing the brand. And then it was Loewe under J.W. who made the technique more mainstream by enlarging it the following season,” Lily continued, her voice never faltering as she spoke. Nick slipped his phone out of his pocket and hit record.
“And then intrecciato leather quickly showed up in the collection of at least five different designers. Which no doubt made it filter through the department stores and right on down to the outlet malls where you no doubt fished it from the clearance bin. So it’s funny that you think you’ve made a decision that separates you from the ‘ fashion girls’ but that bag of yours represents millions of dollars and countless jobs that I secure through my advertising agreements. So, you’re wearing a bag that was selected for you by a group of people like me - from a pile of stuff,” she concluded and Kerry had stopped sipping on her smoothie.
Roman smirked behind his hand from where he sat on top of Emily’s desk.
“Little advice, darling, from my own experience,” Lily paused, her Louboutins giving her a height advantage over the dark haired woman as she leaned in a little closer. The serpent in Eve’s ear. “If you’re fucking the boss, at least dress like you’re in contention to be the trophy wife,” she whispered, squeezing Kerry’s shoulder as she spoke, “But then again, I doubt there’s very much there. You’re basically sleeping with a corpse.”
Lily smirked as she stepped back, “Next time we’re clearing the closets, I’ll send some of the bags to your office instead of to Goodwill,” she offered in a sickly sweet voice. Kerry gulped as she looked past Lily towards the assistants and executives watching with amused smirks. Roman looked as happy as a dog who had just dived head-first into a bowl of freshly cooked steak.
“Oh - and Kerry?” Lily turned around, ready to put the final nail in the coffin of Logan Roy’s mistress. “Yes?” the other woman squeaked and Roman thought for a minute that it looked as though Kerry might just curl up in a ball and cry right there in the middle of the Executive floor. He hoped Karl or someone was recording this.
“Ask daddy to treat you to a proper haircut and blowout. I can see your split ends from here,” Lily observed, glancing down at her watch to make sure she wasn’t running late, before turning to look at Gerri, stepping forward to give the woman a hug. “Goodbye, Mother,” she smiled, giving Gerri’s arm a squeeze before turning her head to look at the man next to her. “Lily,” Roman acknowledged with a nod. “Roman,” Lily returned the gesture with a nod of their own. An unspoken conversation passed between the pair before Lily walked away from her mother and towards the elevator.
Kerry crossed her arms, tapping her heeled foot against the carpet. “I’ll have her security pass frozen,” she threatened, before turning on her heel and heading towards Logan’s empty office, the door slamming shut behind her.
A silence fell amongst the gathering in the centre of the room as Lily disappeared into the elevator and Kerry retreated to the darkness of Logan’s office. Nancy’s attempt to hold back her giggles broke the silence. “Is Anna Nicole Smith pulling a tantrum?” she asked, looking from Nick to Emily who stood on either side of her
“ Anna Nicole?” Gerri questioned, turning to look at the four assistants. “You lot crack me up, you really do,” Roman chuckled, saving that particular nickname away in the back of his mind until the right opportunity would present itself. “Roman, Gerri, I’ve got a draft response ready to go,” Karolina announced as she returned to the group, waving the couple back towards Gerri’s office so that she could brief them.
An hour later, Nick and Nancy found themselves at their usual table in Starbucks, each of them refreshing the New York Times website as they waited for the article to drop. “So, what’s your read on this whole Roman and Gerri situation?” Nick asked between sips of his cold brew as he looked across the table at Nancy, her hair pulled up into a French twist as she focused on her phone screen, “Come on, Nanc, you know I’m shit at reading people, tell me your thoughts.”
Except for Nancy herself that was. Nick could read her like an open book. Like one of the murder mystery books she always had on her desk - the book changing at least once a week.
Nancy shrugged as she set her phone down next to her macchiato. “I think they’re happy - and honestly, I don’t know what else matters,” she offered. Her protectiveness over the older woman had been in recognition of Gerri’s kindness to her. Gerri had taken a chance hiring her - a bright-eyed, bushy haired kid with too much enthusiasm who had jumped on the Amtrak to escape the curse of a small-town life.
“It’s her birthday in two weeks, Roman told me and Alice that he wants to do something,” she added a moment later, picking up her phone again to add a reminder to start shopping for a birthday present for Gerri. “Do you know if he’s going to buy her anything?” Nick asked, leaning forward in his seat. “What do you mean?” Nancy questioned as she refreshed the homepage once more. “I don’t know - I would’ve thought someone like Roman was all for elaborate gifts,” he explained, opening his text thread as he tilted his phone away from her.
Nancy shook her head as she thought back to all the little things she had observed since their trip to Japan. “You know, I disagree, I think he’s a romantic at heart - under all that slimy money,” she decided, a smile playing on her lips as she thought about it. “What is it that you have against rich guys?” Nick teased, biting back a smirk as he focused his eyes on her. “I don’t have a thing against rich guys!” she protested, though her lips gave away that she was lying. “Nanc,” he taunted, shaking his head at how bad of a liar his friend was. “Okay, maybe I do have a thing against some rich guys but I don’t know. Roman has changed a lot in the last year,” Nancy insisted, before a realisation came to her mind, “Oh, yeah you wouldn’t have seen it all, you literally only started the week we all went to Japan.”
She picked up her phone, turning it against the table as she took the last sip of her coffee. “I don’t know, before Japan, Roman was just the stereotypical rich boy. I’m not sure how Emily put up with him, to be honest,” Nancy shrugged, thinking of the days Emily used to come and hide at their side of the office before the Kellman and the Roy assistants eventually pushed their desks together in the middle of the floor. “And then something just switched,” she sighed, having already wondered when exactly that had happened.
“Do you think Japan is where they got together?” Nick asked, now that he had finally gotten Nancy to start engaging with his questions. “I don’t know, it’s maybe where it started, but I think it was after they came back from that visit to see the Pierces,” she decided, having talked about it with Emily and Alice in the weeks after their bosses came back from Tern Haven.
“Why are you so interested anyway?” Nancy asked, a puzzled look on her face as she drew her eyebrows together in a frown. “I’m not, I just -” Nick paused, catching her brown eyes for a moment before looking away. “I just wanted something to talk to you about,” he shrugged.
“You know we can talk about more than just work,” Nancy reminded him with a laugh, “We just don’t have anything but work in common.” Nick raised his eyebrow at that. He could bet that they had plenty in common. “You sure about that, Nanc?” he asked, picking up his cold brew to take one last sip. “What would the rich boy who got his job thanks to his dear Papa have in common with little old me?” Nancy teased, the smile that played on lips making it clear that she was only fooling around.
“Might surprise you, Nanc,” he opposed, pausing for a moment as he leaned closer to her, “I heard you talking about wanting to go to some show.” Nancy raised an eyebrow at that - so he did listen to her, then? “Hadestown,” she replied.
“Yeah, that - well, I have a friend who happens to be on the board of the theatre and I have two tickets for this weekend,” Nick announced, making it sound as though he was simply inviting her out for cocktails.
Nancy narrowed her eyes. There was a voice shouting at the back of her mind that something was off. But another part of her brain told her to take the leap of faith. “Alright, Mr. Rich Guy,” she smiled at him, “You can take me out this weekend.” Nancy’s phone beeped between them, bringing her back to reality. “Oh, I’ve gotta go, Gerri needs me to sort her briefing notes to take home with her,” she explained, standing up from her seat to put her coat back on again, “I’ll probably have to pack Roman’s as well, do you guys have them ready yet?” Nancy asked as she picked up her satchel.
“What - are they like living together or something?” Nick questioned as he followed Nancy’s lead by picking up his things and standing from the table. “Not exactly, but I think he stays at hers a lot,” she replied, opening her phone screen again. “Makes sense, I guess,” Nick shrugged as took his phone out of his jacket pocket while Nancy returned their Starbucks mugs to the counter. “Oh shit, it’s up,” Nancy announced as they walked towards the door, hightailing it back in the direction of the Waystar office.
Gerri had managed to avoid looking at the New York Times article until they were back at her apartment. They had left out the back door of the building not long after it dropped, hoping to miss any of the reporters who might be planning to chance their arm by doorstepping them.
“Don’t tell me you’re reading it,” Roman tutted as he looked at Gerri curled up on the sofa with a martini in hand, one of her cosmetic pouches sitting on the coffee table in front of her as she scrolled on her phone. “Do they call me your “controversially young boyfriend" by any chance ?" he asked from the kitchen, putting their takeaway cartons into the bin as he contemplated whether you could really consider two salads and a cheese plate to be a ‘takeaway’.
Gerri rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her martini. “It’s all written up as if we’re making a power grab - they’re calling it Kellman-Roy vs. Roy,” she revealed, turning her phone screen towards him for a moment before she went back to reading the article.
“Kellman-Roy has a nice ring to it,” Roman mused as he crossed the lounge towards her, sitting himself down next to her on the side of the sofa that had become his. “Don’t even go there, smartass, not tonight,” Gerri warned, taking another sip of her martini as if the doctor had prescribed it to her. Plus, it was a stupid idea to think they would bulk his surname onto her married one.
“Those are good pictures though, might make that one my phone background,” he announced as he looked over her shoulder. Roman picked up his phone, clicking the article link that Emily had sent him before scrolling through to save each of the photos in turn. There was one that must have been cropped to look as though it had been taken at a closer distance than it really had been. Gerri was walking out of the restaurant a step or two ahead of him, their joint hands hidden behind her back as he smirked at her, though Gerri was the main focus of the picture with her that little strand of blonde hair floating in front of her face. He zoomed the picture in a little more before setting it as his phone wallpaper.
“At least you’re seeing the bright side of this situation,” Gerri remarked, shaking her head as she looked at his new phone screen. “Can’t be a six week thing when The New York Times is writing about it,” Roman declared, putting it as another win for his side of the argument. “You get really smug sometimes, do you know that?” Gerri asked with narrowed eyes as she glared at the man beside her over the top of her martini glass. “Are you ever planning on leaving, by the way?” she questioned, asking the question for the first time since he had started staying over. “Nope,” Roman declared, propping his feet up onto the coffee table as if to prove his point.
Gerri rolled her eyes, deciding it was a moot point at that moment in time. She put her martini glass down on top of one of the wooden coasters before digging around her cosmetics bag for her nail polish. Roman grabbed the remote as he switched the TV over from PGM to one of the movie channels, turning around as Gerri started to paint her toenails.
“You’re going to get that all over the carpet,” Roman warned, setting the remote down as he put his hand out to take the opened nail polish bottle from her. “You are not painting my toenails,” Gerri protested, trying to move the nail polish out of his reach. “Who else other than me is going to be seeing them?” he asked, watching as Gerri shrugged in defeat before handing the bottle over to him.
“Since when did you start caring about my carpets?” Gerri questioned, pushing herself back on the sofa as Roman tried to move her legs to put her feet in his lap. “Since I started cooking in your kitchen,” he replied, giving her back the bottle to hold as he dipped the brush in the bright pink polish, brushing the excess off at the side of the bottle before he started to paint her toenails. He wondered if anyone else knew Gerri liked to paint her toenails that particular shade of Barbie pink.
“You’ve cooked in my kitchen once,” Gerri reminded him as she leaned back against the armrest, one hand holding up the nail polish bottle. “That’s a lie,” Roman protested, stopping to top up the brush before going back to his task, “I’ve cooked in it twice.” Gerri rolled her eyes as she smiled at him, “Microwaving a cookie for dessert does not count as cooking,” she maintained.
Gerri had gone back to scrolling through the New York Times article. Reading it from top to bottom for the fifth time that hour. “Logan is back from London tomorrow, isn’t he?” she asked, eyes still glued onto the phone screen as Roman moved onto her other foot. “Yep,” he confirmed. “I’ll be in hiding then,” Gerri announced, though part of her took at least a little pleasure out of imagining the man’s reaction to seeing the article.
Roman reached out to pluck the phone from her hand, setting it onto the sofa next to them before going back to his task. “Nah, he’ll have gotten a kick out of all of this - Ger, stop wiggling your toes, for fuck sake,” he pinched her calf, holding the nail polish up as she dug her heel into his thigh, “Okay, okay, I won’t pinch you again!”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Roman focusing on keeping the polish away from her skin while Gerri watched the television. “Connor called me today,” he announced between brush strokes. “Oh, did he?” Gerri asked, part of her glad that Roman’s older brother had finally reached out to him again. Shiv had been radio silent since the party at Logan’s and they both knew they wouldn’t hear anything from Kendall until he was out of the facility. “Him and Willa want to take us out for dinner on Friday, I checked and there’s nothing in either of our calendars for that day,” Roman informed her, taking Gerri’s silence as an acceptance of the invitation.
Another few minutes passed before he screwed the lid of the nail polish shut, putting it back into her cosmetics bag. “So, the Ice Queen showed up to the office to help then,” Roman recalled, his hands coming to rest on Gerri’s calves as she sipped on her martini. “I see you’ve given her a promotion. It was the Ice Princess the other day,” Gerri observed, wondering if perhaps her ‘controversially younger boyfriend’ and eldest daughter might end up becoming friends after all. “Yeah, well, she went all Miranda Priestly on Kerry’s ass and honestly - and I mean this Ger - I would have made her CEO based on that alone,” Roman smirked, making a mental note to check if anyone had managed to get their camera out in time to record it.
Gerri shook her head, knowing she’d eventually have to deal with the fallout of Lily’s little stunt - even if she did rather enjoy it. “She’d take the job out of spite towards your father,” she said, as Lily’s voice came back into her head. If even Lily thought this could work, why was she still so reluctant to let herself believe that?
She slipped her legs free from under Roman’s arms, standing from the sofa as she headed back towards the kitchen to put her glass in the dishwasher. “You know, you’ll have to earn your keep if you’re planning on sticking around here,” Gerri announced, closing the dishwasher door as she turned around to look at him.
“Your birthday is soon,” he reminded her, putting his legs out onto the coffee table again as Gerri walked back into the lounge, this time heading around to the back of the sofa to put the olive jar onto the bar cart. “Geez, way to bring down the conversation, Rome,” Gerri tutted, not needing to be reminded of her age.
“What do you want for your birthday?” Roman asked as Gerri leaned over the back of the sofa, hands stretching over to play with the collar of his shirt. “The three things you wrote on that napkin that you’ve stuck to my fridge,” Gerri answered as she pressed a kiss against the pressure point of his neck, smirking to herself as he curled himself towards her.
Pasta. Martinis. Sex. The 3 Joys of G’s Life. That’s what he had written on the napkin.
“I hope it gave the cleaner a laugh,” Roman joked as he closed his eyes, feeling Gerri’s hands undoing the second button of his shirt, though her fingers were careful not to touch his skin. Gerri’s housekeeper had worked for her and Baird back at the Brownstone and came with her to the penthouse apartment. Living alone - relatively alone - meant that there was never much for the housekeeper to do. Gerri preferred in that way, especially as the woman was definitely well above retirement age. “Traumatised her more like, the poor dear,” she tutted, pausing her teasing as she took the gold St. Christopher’s chain between her fingertips, the heavy pendant gleaming in the dim light of the lounge.
This wasn’t some whirlwind romance. Regardless of whatever The New York Times might have written it up to be. It wasn’t some earth-shattering scandal that would rip the fabric of Waystar apart. They were just two people who stumbled into something - slowly, then suddenly at all once - beyond their own control.
Roman was right.
This wasn’t some hotel room fling. The days of him knocking on her hotel door while looking over his shoulder were gone. But she didn’t want him to have expectations. To be expecting a home when she wasn’t sure if that was what she could offer him.
Yet - somehow - it all worked. It worked within these walls that Gerri called her home. If it worked here, perhaps it could work out there . But a voice whirled around her head again. She couldn’t determine whose voice it was. Perhaps it was Lily’s. Maybe even Baird’s. Either way, it was a voice smooth like rich whisky and honey.
It reminded her of the truth. That they were two moths drawn to a flame that would change them beyond recognition. But the flame could burn them just as easily. It was more likely to burn them than keep them safe and warm from the cold.
“Roman,” Gerri paused, moving out from behind the sofa to stand in front of him. Her voice was softer than Roman had ever heard it, as if she was unsure of what to do next. “What do you want - from all of this?” she asked, green eyes darkening as she rested her hands on his shoulder. “You. This. Us,” Roman breathed, his arms coming to wrap around her legs as he pulled her between his knees. “Roman, I don’t know how to make this work - how to make it work when we’re not here,” she confessed.
“Then we just lock the door and throw away the key,” Roman declared, pulling Gerri closer to him until he could rest his head against her stomach. He held her as if she might disappear as easily as a flame being blown out, leaving the moths with nothing to guide them to each other. “Oh, I wish it was that easy,” she sighed, her right hand trailing through his hair, her nails scraping across his scalp.
“Gerri, for once in your fucking life, stop overthinking everything,” Roman mumbled against her chest, his hands pressing against the curve of her waist to hold her in place. “This is me, we’re talking about Roman,” Gerri reminded him, knowing she would win the gold medal if overthinking was made an Olympic sport. A silence fell over them, the sound of the dishwasher acting as white noise in the background as they held each other.
“I think we should try, you know, I know I could do it with you,” Roman paused, eyes darkening as he stood up, taking her hands in his. “If nothing else, it’ll stop those voices in your head.” Gerri’s eyes widened as she tilted her head, “You think you can do it ?” she asked, Roman’s arm slithering around her waist as she cupped his cheek with her hand, bringing his face closer to her. “We’ve done everything else,” he mused, knowing this was the final wall they had to pull down. The only thing separating them now.
“Come on, Ger,” Roman paused, bringing the voice inside Gerri’s head into reality, “What harm can it do?”
Perhaps it was better to be someone’s water than their whisky. To be a home instead of a hotel room. For one of them to offer the other a safe haven from the storm, returning it with the first place the other had ever felt safe in. That’s the thoughts that passed through Gerri Kellman’s head as she finally followed Karolina’s advice.
Damn the consequences.
Notes:
.....yes, they have now finally slept together and YES I know, I'm a villain for doing it as a fade to black but this chapter was already 9.8k words.
Chapter 12: A Pearl
Notes:
I thought this was going to be a short set-up chapter for everything in the next two chapters, but it somehow turned into this...
Chapter Text
The week dragged until Friday. The four Kellman-Roy assistants had taken it in turns to answer press enquiries, each repeating the lines given to them by Karolina. Nick inevitably suggested that they recorded one of them saying them as a voice note to send out to journalists and news publications. Nancy reminded him they would be voting him off the island first if they ever found themselves in a Survivor situation.
Gerri and Roman had been arriving at work early and leaving later in an attempt to dodge any journalists considering doorstepping them at the office. Logan had returned from his trip the day before, opting not to discuss the media coverage of his son and interim CEO. Gerri thought perhaps that was more concerning than him publicly criticising them in front of the other executives.
Friday afternoon had always been a slow time at Waystar. By 3 pm most of the executives were out for lunch meetings that inevitably turned into dinner and cocktails - all paid for with the company credit card. Gerri and her assistants were in a conference call with the L.A. office, leaving Nick and Emily as two of the only people working in the cubicles at the centre of the executive floor.
Roman decided that now was as good a time as any to speak to his first assistant about his latest plan. “Em, Ems, my second main woman,” he called, crossing the space between his office and the little cubicle of desks that the four assistants had put together. “What do you want, Rome?” Emily whined into her coffee cup, knowing that Roman only called her a nickname when he was looking something done that wasn’t in her job description. She clicked out of the WhatsApp tab on her laptop just before Roman sat himself down on Alice’s desk across from her.
“I need you to book two first class flights for me,” Roman announced, tapping his fingers on the desk between his legs. “Why aren’t you using the jet?’ Emily asked, having never been tasked with booking flights for Roman before. Who needed plane tickets when you owned a fleet of private jets? “It needs to be a commercial flight,” he answered, knowing it wouldn’t work to use a private jet for this. Roman needed it to fly under the radar.
“Return?” she questioned, pushing up her laptop screen as she went onto the Delta website. “No, one way,” Roman replied, scrolling through his phone as he tried to get a head start on the other part of his to-do list. Emily raised an eyebrow at that. Where the fuck were Roman and Gerri going on a one-way flight? “They’re just a gift for Gerri, I’ll send you the details in a text,” he explained, typing out the details he had worked out earlier that morning before texting them to his first assistant.
Emily became even more confused as she scanned her eye over the text that Roman had just sent her. “And you want the flight for the night of the RECNY ball?” she asked, watching as the man nodded his head in response. “If you say so, Roman,” the assistant hesitated before looking back at her computer screen.
“Emily, this is like super top secret, so don’t go telling your assistant besties about it,” Roman warned, glancing back down at his phone to check something. “Sure, Rome, whatever you say,” Emily promised, glancing back at the inbox that she was desperately trying to get down to under 100 unread emails before going home.
“Pinky promise?” Roman asked, holding his hand out for her, pinky pointing up. “How old are you, Roman?” she scolded with a shake of her head. Gerri might have helped him mature a bit but Roman still had a habit of acting like a 5-year old in an Armani suit. “You know exactly how old I am, Ems, now pinky promise or not?” Roman tried again, wiggling his pinky finger towards her.
Emily rolled her eyes before reluctantly holding her pinky finger out for Roman to wrap his around. “Speaking of Gerri’s birthday - any plans yet?” she asked, turning back to her laptop screen to open another email. “Not yet, but I reckon I need the gaggle of assistants to help,” Roman said, glancing into Gerri’s empty office before heading back towards his own. “Text Fredrick and remind him he’s picking us up here to go to that dinner,” he called over his shoulder to Emily before shutting his office door.
Connor’s 7 pm dinner reservation meant that they were heading straight from the office to Raoul’s in SoHo. All four of the Kellman-Roy assistants had been shooed out of the office early to give Roman and Gerri time to get ready for dinner. Kerry had yet to show her face again around either of their offices after her run-in with Lily earlier that week.
“Are you ready to go?” Roman asked as he appeared in the doorframe of Gerri’s office, finishing buttoning up his shirt. Most of the Executive floor had long since emptied out, leaving them as two of the last ones still hanging around. “Yep, let’s go,” Gerri said, adjusting the strap of her Roger Vivier heels before grabbing her clutch bag from the table as she made a beeline for the door.
“Logan’s still here,” Gerri observed, nodding her head towards the office at the end of the floor. Roman squinted his eyes as he tried to make out who else was inside the office along with his father. He could make out the back of Frank’s head but that was about it. “Any idea what’s going on there?” Roman asked as they headed towards the elevator. “Nope, let’s hope they’re just reminiscing,” she offered, stepping inside the metal box before hitting the button for the ground floor. Roman looked out across the executive floor as the doors closed, part of him wondering what was happening in the shadows of his father’s office.
Fredrick sat waiting at the sidewalk, the Aston Martin DBX’s engine still turned on. Roman held the door open for Gerri before getting in after her. “I can’t believe I’m going on a double date with Connor and Willa,” Gerri muttered to herself, taking the lid off her lipstick as the car pulled away to make the short journey towards Raoul’s. “So this is a date then?” Roman taunted, adjusting the cufflinks of his shirt.
“Roman,” Gerri warned, glancing over at him, pulling her lipstick away for a moment before focusing back on the compact mirror in her hand. “You’re the one who won’t use labels,” Roman reminded her, content to sit next to Gerri and watch her apply her lipstick - a deeper shade, more of a berry hue, than the one she usually wore to work. “I mean, I would’ve thought after the last few nights…” he continued, the smirk playing on his lip as he thought back to the night before. Gerri had ended up having to cover his neck with a rather generous amount of her foundation and powder that morning to hide the evidence, though he could still feel the nail marks in his back.
“Fredrick, can you put the radio up a little bit?” Gerri called into the driver’s seat, waiting for Fredrick to dutifully turn the volume up on the radio before turning to look at Roman again. “Roman, don’t try to make this something it isn’t okay. We’re going to figure it out as we go along, don’t push it,” she warned, waiting for the car to stop at the red light before adding a final coat of lipstick to the corner of her lips. The same corners of her lips that Roman had every intention of smudging the lipstick from later.
“Right, right, whatever you say, G,” Roman replied, his downbeat feeling evident in his voice. Gerri was never going to make this easy. Her overthinking and analytical brain was another hurdle they’d have to get over. Gerri put her lipstick back into her bag, taking out a small vial of perfume to spray to the pressure point of her neck, the liquid trickling down her clavicle. “I think you have a little bit of work to do to earn a label,” she informed him calmly, catching her reflection in the rear-view mirror as she fixed the neckline of her black Rick Owens wrap dress.
“Oh, do I?” Roman asked, eyebrow raised as he turned to look at her again. Gerri knew how to play this game. “ You’ll figure it out,” she assured him, adding in her second and third earring, tightening the backings of each of the little gold hoops.
That sounded like a challenge.
Roman put his hand into the inside pocket of his blazer, pulling out his wallet and taking out the black American Express card. “Do your worst,” he offered, holding it outstretched towards her. Gerri rolled her eyes as she snapped the card from his hand, “That’s not what I meant,” she insisted, before pursing her lips as she slipped the American Express card down the neckline of her dress, putting it between her skin and the side of her red La Perla bra. “You can have it back if you behave,” Gerri promised, looking at Roman over the top of her glasses as the car rolled to a stop outside the restaurant. “And what if I don’t behave?” Roman questioned, resting his hand down on the tan leather seat between them, leaning forward until he was close enough to smell her amber and vanilla perfume.
Gerri smirked as she opened the car door, slipping out right as Roman leaned forward to pounce. “You can fish it out later,” she promised, before slamming the car door shut in his face. “You’re a real fucking tease, Ger,” Roman whined as he watched Gerri turn around to look at him through the car door, smirking to herself before heading off towards the restaurant door.
“She’s got you matched there, my friend,” Fredrick observed as he cleared his throat from the driver’s seat, looking at Roman through the rear-view mirror. “You would go taking her side, wouldn’t you?” Roman announced, shaking his head as he got out of the car and headed around towards the restaurant door where Gerri was waiting on him.
“Did you dress yourself in the dark?” Gerri asked as Roman came to a stop beside her. “I was a bit distracted this morning, Ger, you’re lucky I got out of bed,” Roman reminded her, having tried his hardest to talk her into playing hooky again that morning - but Gerri wasn’t having any of it. She rolled her eyes as she handed her clutch bag over to Roman to hold as she stepped forward, moving him towards her by the lapel of his shirt. “Learn how to do up your shirt properly, Rome,” Gerri scolded, undoing the third and forth button to put them into the right slot. “I don’t have to learn if you’re around to do it for me,” Roman reminded her, wondering if he had subconsciously done his shirt up wrong when he was changing at the office for dinner.
Though Gerri spent more of her time undressing him than dressing him these days.
“I really hope this place serves martinis,” Gerri muttered, taking her clutch bag back from Roman before heading towards the desk at the front of the restaurant to check in. “Hey, reservation for Roy,” Roman called towards the server as they reached the desk. “Hello, Mr. Roy, the rest of your party are already here, if you’ll follow me,” the waiter announced, picking up another two menus before leading them through the dimly lit restaurant and towards one of the booths at the other side. Roman glanced towards the various artwork that lined the bistro’s walls, most of it bordering on erotic.
Willa had definitely picked this spot.
“Are we late?” Gerri whispered as they followed the waiter through the restaurant to the booth where she could see Willa and Connor were already drinking cocktails. “No, Connor just has this time thing, he’s like a fucking hour early to everything,” Roman assured her, though part of him wondered if he had put the wrong time into their shared calendar.
“Well, if it ain’t the lovebirds finally showing up,” Connor announced, a little too loudly for Gerri’s liking as he stood up from the booth to hug her and Roman in turn. Willa mouthed a ‘sorry’ towards Gerri as the woman slipped into the booth across from her, the two women taking the inside seat with their respective partners on the outer edge of the booth. Roman quickly ordered two vodka martinis, sensing Gerri would need it, before Connor turned to the pair of them.
“Nice little splash in the New York Times you two. Might have helped give my campaign a little bump as well,” Connor declared, rubbing his hands together as Willa turned her head to Gerri. “He bought ten copies of the paper,” she revealed to the woman across from her, making it clear she had heard Connor talk about little else since the news first broke.
Ten minutes later, Connor had started boring the waiter and Roman with his knowledge of steaks, determining exactly what cut he wanted, when Willa leaned across the table towards Gerri.
“Has Shiv spoken to you since Logan’s party?” the younger blonde asked, tapping her acrylics against the stem of her glass. “No, she’s been worriedly quiet recently,” Gerri revealed, having expected Shiv to have stormed into her office after the New York Times article was published. Her absence worried Gerri more than a public confrontation would have. It meant Baird’s goddaughter was away scheming in the shadows somewhere.
Willa hummed to herself, taking a sip of her cosmopolitan before continuing. “You don’t think it was her who tipped off the press, do you?” she asked, reaching out to pick up another olive from the bar snacks the waiter had brought down with their drinks. Gerri shrugged her shoulders. She wouldn’t have put it past Shiv but she wasn’t sure how the other woman would have done it unless she was having them followed. “I might ask Lily to see what she can find out there,” Gerri decided, making a mental note to call her over the weekend. While Shiv was Logan’s daughter, Lily was every inch Baird’s daughter and it had been his legal mind that had helped Logan build his media empire.
“She’s your eldest daughter, isn’t she?” Willa asked, glancing over at the poor waiter who had come back from the kitchen with a large wooden board of meat cuts for Connor to choose between. “You should bring her to our engagement party, I’d love to meet her,” she offered, hoping to add at least one more person to her side of the party. It was already obvious their engagement party was going to be a de-facto campaigning event with all the usual fundraising trimmings.
“Lily is - let’s put it bluntly - not a fan of anything to do with the Roys, except maybe Roman and Connor, I guess,” Gerri warned, though she could imagine her eldest daughter and Willa getting on with each other. Lily had only ever been around Connor a few times, but she could remember her daughter gravitating towards him more than the other Roys. Perhaps because Connor stuck out like a sore thumb. The black sheep in a family of Shetland sheep, unable to produce the illustrious cashmere. “She’ll fit right in with you and me then,” Willa decided, raising her cocktail glass in a mock cheer towards Gerri before taking another sip.
The conversation flowed easily between the four of them after ordering their food. Willa tried to explain the premise of her latest play while Gerri repeatedly kicked Roman’s foot away every time he tried to play footsie with her under the table. She wasn’t playing footsie with him in an open booth across from his brother of all people.
The waiter returned with their food and another round of drinks. “Any wedding plans yet?” Gerri asked as she cut into her steak while Roman looked longingly between his pasta and her steak. “Told you that you made the wrong choice,” she reminded him as she squatted his hand away from her french fries. “We think just before the election,” Connor revealed as he cut into his own steak. Gerri’s eyes widened at that.
It was early September - that gave them only a few weeks to plan an entire wedding. And Gerri doubted it was going to be a quiet little affair at City Hall or the New York Public Library. She had done the big white wedding once before - and once was more than enough.
“That’s very quick for a wedding,” Gerri hesitated, not sure if the couple across from her knew what they were getting themselves in for. Though money was worth more than time. You could plan an entire wedding in a month with enough zeros in your bank account. “Yeah, well, why wait?” Connor asked with a shrug, clearly not seeing the problem. Roman met Gerri’s eye, offering her nothing more than a shrug of his own by way of helping her.
“Who are you going to have as your bridesmaids?” Gerri asked Willa, wondering why she had thought it was a good idea to open Pandora’s jar. “Oh I –” Willa paused, looking down at her food for a moment as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I don’t think I have anyone, really,” she confessed. Willa didn’t see it as her wedding. It was just another Roy family production. One she would be expected to show up to and smile while everyone else ignored her and acted as if she didn’t exist.
“You two could always do it,” Connor suggested, pointing his fork between the couple opposite them, “Best Man and Maid of Honour.” Roman choked on his pasta, hand grasping at his neck as Gerri patted his back to get him to cough while Willa poured him a glass of water. “That’s a very big responsibility,” Gerri reminded the man as Roman took a sip of the water, no longer choking at the suggestion of being Connor’s best man.
Gerri couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be by Connor and Willa’s wedding. November might only be two months away, but it may as well have been a year in the future as far as her relationship with Roman was concerned. The RECNY ball was in two weeks. She couldn’t see anything beyond that for now.
“I’m happy to help you plan it though,” Gerri offered, mindful that no one else from Connor’s side of the family would likely be involved in the wedding planning. But Gerri wasn’t “Connor’s side of the family” - even if she was the next best thing. “How big of a guest list are you thinking?” she asked, turning her attention back to Connor. Gerri had no doubt that the man would be the ‘ Bridezilla’ out of the two of them. “Oh, not many, maybe like 500,” Connor answered between bites of his steak.
Gerri didn’t think she liked 50 people, let alone 500.
“Connor, do you know 500 people?” Roman asked, reaching over to steal a french fry from Gerri’s plate before she could swat his hand away. Gerri glared at Roman from her side of the booth when Connor started writing down a possible guest list onto the cocktail napkins after stopping a waiter to borrow a pen.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Gerri announced, tapping Roman on the shoulder to get him to slip out of the booth so she could head to the bathroom. Roman watched her go, waiting until she was out of hearing range before turning to his brother and Willa. “Here, so like, it’s Gerri’s birthday next Friday and I’m going to throw a party for her - I don’t know what yet - our assistants are going to help but it’s a surprise” he revealed, emphasising the end of his sentence as he stared at his brother. If anyone would let the cat out of the bag, it would be Connor with his big - but well meaning - mouth.
“Anything we can do?” Connor asked as Willa opened her phone calendar to set a reminder for it. Roman shrugged as he reached over to steal a handful of Gerri’s french fries again. “I don’t even know how to throw a party,” he confessed, knowing it would have been easier to just hire an event planner to do the whole thing, but he wanted to try and do it himself. He wanted it to be about her - not just another boring birthday party that felt like every dinner they’d ever had at Logan’s apartment.
“Let me deal with the cake,” Willa suggested, already opening the Pinterest app on her phone to start looking for ideas.
Roman looked unsure. Could he trust Willa to not deliver some homemade attempt at a cake from her Pinterest board? She would either deliver a showstopper or a cake that looked as if a toddler had iced it. “Look, Rome, I know the kind of thing Gerri likes, trust me, I’ve got this,” Willa insisted, having already thought of at least two bakeries she could call the next morning to call. “Just don’t bring her a cake in the shape of a martini, Willa,” Roman warned, knowing in his mind Gerri would want something more simplistic - classic with a little playful touch - just like the woman herself.
“What are you getting her for her birthday?” Connor asked, nursing his whisky in one hand. “Well, she’s hardly going to send me her Amazon wishlist, now will she?” Roman argued, although he wished it would have been as easy as just buying everything in her Amazon cart and calling it a day. He needed to find her a gift that wasn’t too over the top but made it clear that he was serious about everything. Serious about her. Serious about them.
“Buy her some shoes?” Willa suggested, already realising how difficult it would be to buy a birthday gift for the woman who had everything. Well, almost everything.
“Done that,” Roman announced as he munched on an olive. He didn’t need to use Gerri’s birthday as an excuse to buy her another pair of Manolos. He could buy her a pair of those just because it was a random Monday. The plane tickets he had asked Emily to buy were a part of Gerri’s gift, but one she wouldn’t get until the following week because of scheduled commitments.
“You know, ladies always like jewellery,” Connor offered as if handing his brother the secret cheat code for figuring out what women wanted. “Please do not take your brother’s advice on this,” Willa warned, still waiting for her fiancee to choose an appropriate engagement ring that didn’t look as if it had been stolen from Elizabeth Taylor’s jewellery box. “Let me have a think and I’ll send you some links,” she decided, suspecting she would have to take the lead on ensuring Gerri got at least one appropriate birthday present.
Gerri had gotten progressively quieter as the dinner went on. Willa had tried asking her about her birthday when she came back and that seemed to send everything else on a downward trajectory. Birthdays were always a sore topic, but Roman suspected it was worse for Gerri - this year, especially. It didn’t have to be a big birthday for it to come with baggage.
The car journey back to Gerri’s penthouse - Roman wouldn’t let himself think of it as ‘home’ - was relatively quiet for most of it. “Why don’t you just take them off?” he suggested when Gerri started fidgeting with the back of her heels again. “This is what happens when I don’t wear the Manolos,” Gerri muttered, shaking her head as she wiggled one shoe off and then the other. Roman reached over to take the heels from her, putting them in his lap. “Think you should wear nothing but those Manolos,” he tried, smiling to himself as he watched her crack a smile at that. “If you’re lucky,” Gerri insisted as the car came to a stop outside her apartment complex.
She held her hands out to take back her shoes but Roman was already out of the car with them in hand. “Roman, I can’t walk inside without my shoes on,” Gerri hissed at him as he opened the car door for her. “Sure, you can, Ger,” he insisted, holding the shoes by the stiletto heels in one hand as he offered the other out for Gerri to take.
“Good night, Fredrick,” Gerri called back towards the driver as she got out of the car, glad she had at least got her nylon tights on. “I could always carry you,” Roman offered, being serious in his suggestion of throwing her over his shoulder to carry her across the sidewalk. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned, though she let Roman take her hand as they headed across the sidewalk and into the lobby of her apartment complex.
“We still have time for martinis, you know,” Roman suggested as they got into the elevator. Another alarm bell rang when Gerri shrugged her shoulders at the idea. Gerri turning down a martini was never a good sign. He led the way into the penthouse, dropping Gerri’s heels down by the coat rack in the hallway, feeling Gerri step around him to move further inside.
Gerri stopped at the door of her dining room, pushing it open as the light flooded in from the hallway. “You know I’ve never had a dinner party in here, I’ve never had the girls in here for dinner either,” she explained to Roman when he joined her in the hallway. Madeline had been in her apartment a few times, but Lily had never graced the penthouse with her presence.
The last decade of her life played itself back in her head. It was all a little pearl that Gerri rolled around in her head every night.
“It’s my birthday next week and I don’t even know where one of my daughters is,” Gerri sighed, folding her arms as she bit down on the right side of her lower lip. “Yeah, but that’s Maddie for you,” he reminded her, leaning against the other side of the doorframe. “Probs bribing some rich man out of his millions at a roulette table in Monte Carlo,” Roman offered, though he knew even less about Gerri’s mysterious second daughter as he did about her first.
Gerri shook her head, knowing it wasn’t that simple. “We put her in an ivory tower and she just ran the second she turned 21,” she confessed, wondering if all of her demons were planning on visiting her before her birthday. Roman couldn’t help but wonder if they had turned the penthouse into their own ivory tower. Keeping the dragons out for as long as they could.
It was normal to spiral before your birthday - even for someone like Gerri Kellman. He just had to distract her from the spiralling.
“Come on, G, let’s go to bed,” he suggested, stepping forward to put his hands on her waist, holding her in place as he gently pulled her off the doorframe. An empty dinner table wasn’t worth crying on - not yet, anyway. “Not tonight, Roman,” Gerri whined, wanting nothing more than to just curl up in bed and go to sleep. “You know, I don’t have an entirely one track mind, right?” he asked, giving her waist a squeeze. “I’ll check on the immortal tortoise,” Roman decided, giving Gerri a nudge towards the master bedroom before he headed back towards the kitchen to get Horus’ berries.
It did shock Roman when the opera music greeted him when he got to the master bedroom. “Which dead person is it this time?” he asked, changing into his tartan Pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt as Gerri emerged from the walk-in closet in her La Perla nightgown and a short robe. “Joan Sutherland,” Gerri replied, picking up a bottle from her vanity as she headed towards the bed. “Definitely sounds like a dead opera singer,” Roman mused, wondering if she liked listening to music from anyone who was actually still alive.
Roman threw his shirt over towards the laundry basket before turning around towards the bed. Gerri had sat herself down on her knees in the middle of the bed, spraying her Nuxe oil onto her arms, massaging it into her skin. “I knew that La Perla was a good investment,” Roman announced, taking in the sight before him as he got to the bottom of the bed. “Yeah, I don’t think you bought it for my benefit,” Gerri agreed, massaging the oil into her hands as he crawled onto the bed, bringing his head to sit on her lap as he curled up in front of her.
Roman pressed his lips against the top of her thigh, right where the lace of the La Perla nightdress had hiked up. “You know, I’m not a religious person,” he mumbled against her skin, the kisses trailing upwards as he felt Gerri set the bottle down beside them, “But I worship at this altar.”
Gerri laughed to herself, her hands coming to rest on the back of his neck, fingers trailing into his hair. “Sorry, the church is closed today,” she told him, nails digging into his scalp for a moment before he moved his head, turning his attention to the inside of her thigh.
There were too many thoughts going around her head for that tonight. No matter how good Roman usually was at silencing the voices in her head.
Roman sighed dramatically, lifting his head before he crawled up the length of the bed, dropping himself down on the side of the bed that had become his. “Let me know the opening hours then,” he suggested, dodging the decorative pillow that Gerri threw in the direction of his head. Gerri rolled her eyes as she picked up the bottle, getting off the bed to set it back on the vanity table before pushing back the duvet cover and slipping in next to him.
It still surprised Gerri how well they fit together - whether it was her holding him or Roman holding her. It just worked. It worked almost too well.
Roman pressed his lips against the crown of her head, taking in the scent of the magnolia and vanilla of her body oil. A silent Gerri was never a good sign, especially at this hour in the day. “You’ve got me, Ger,” he told her, his index finger tracing stars along her forearm as she curled her head into his chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” Roman promised, not missing how her grip of his arm tightened. Perhaps Gerri had lost too many people to believe that anyone could stick around long-term. You could only lose so many people before the idea of a future became harder to imagine.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, one hand running its fingers through her hair as he looked off towards the bedside table on Gerri’s side. There was a photo of her and the girls. Madeline was only a toddler, curled up on Gerri’s knee, while Lily sat on the floor next to her mother, building a jigsaw puzzle before the camera caught them. The three of them looked up at the lens with matching smiles.
Whatever he was feeling about his relationship with Shiv and Kendall, it was nothing compared to Gerri and her daughters. They were simply two people who existed in a limbo of their own making, each without the loved ones Waystar had poisoned their relationship with.
“We’ll figure this out, you know,” Roman insisted, his hand running through her hair as he listened to her breathing against his chest, “I don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out.” It took a minute or two until he felt Gerri nodding her head against his chest, her hand under his shirt as she ran her fingers against his skin. “I know,” she acknowledged, the voices in her head falling silent once more.
Roman stayed awake a little longer. Content to simply watch her sleep on his chest. Part of him knew they shouldn’t get too comfortable with this. He hadn’t been back to his own apartment in almost two weeks with Fredrick and Emily taking it in turn to pick up things for him.
They had two weeks to go until the RECNY ball and a week until Gerri’s birthday. That had to be enough time to convince her, right? They just had to take it one day at a time.
Gerri’s mood had improved by the following morning. Distracted by the promise of a trip out for pancakes and an early birthday trip to The Plaza Hotel to hide out in the wellness suite. Roman made a mental note to thank Karolina for putting that in Gerri’s diary, even if it meant he’d have to spend the day entertaining himself.
“You know, we could save the planet and shower together,” Roman suggested from the middle of the bed, pausing his doom scrolling to look at Gerri as she stood outside the en-suite door. “No, Roman, last time you came into the shower with me you dropped an entire bottle of my shampoo down the drain,” Gerri warned, pointing her hair brush towards him. “I’ll buy you a new one!” he tried before Gerri disappeared off into the en-suite, the radio playing in the background.
Roman looked up a few moments later as the silk robe flew through the open en-suite door, hitting the ground right as the La Perla set followed. “I knew you were one of those environmental liberals,” he shouted towards the en-suite as he pulled his shirt over his head, already hearing the water running in the shower. Trust Gerri to not wait on him.
“Do you think you’re fucking Daenerys Targaryen with that water temperature?” Roman cried as he stepped into the shower, eyes fixed on Gerri’s bare back as she stood facing the water stream. She liked her water at the hottest temperature - ‘ fire cannot burn a dragon’ type of hot. The walk in shower was large enough that they didn’t have to be directly under the water stream. Otherwise Roman would probably have melted for an entirely different reason.
“Stop complaining, Roman,” Gerri scolded, stepping out from under the water stream to push him under it, smirking to herself as she closed the distance between them to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. The steam had already started fogging up the glass on to their right side as Gerri pushed him against the tiled wall, once again thanking her interior designer for choosing a waterfall shower head. “Is the church open?” Roman gasped between kisses, taking Gerri’s laugh as a yes before he moved his hands to her forearms, pushing his hair out of his face as he moved to put Gerri against the wall this time.
Neither of them heard the ringing of Gerri’s phone from the bedroom.
“Gerri, there’s like three missed calls on your phone!” Roman shouted over the noise of the hairdryer thirty minutes later after the water had gone cold and they had finally detached themselves from the wall. “Shit,” Gerri muttered, putting the hairdryer down before holding her hand out for the phone as it started to ring again. Roman crossed the room towards the vanity table, handing it over to her before he went in search of his duffle bag to find something to wear. His clothes still didn’t have a place to stay. His own section of the closet or a drawer in one of Gerri’s dressers felt too permanent - even for him. It would be testing their luck.
Gerri answered the phone on the fourth ring. “Hey, Mom,” Madeline greeted, the background noise made it clear that she was out in public somewhere. “Madeline, is everything okay?” Gerri asked, a dozen different scenarios going through her head. Her youngest daughter was the sort of person to ring once and then not try again for another week. Three missed calls was practically verging on ‘I’ve lost my credit card and I’m stranded in the middle of Europe’ territory.
“Sorry, were you asleep? I tried ringing a few times” Madeline asked and Gerri thought she could make out the sound of a cellist nearby. A quick glance at her watch reminded her it was almost evening time in Europe. Whatever bit of it her daughter was currently exploring.
“I was just in the shower,” Gerri explained, getting up from the vanity to pick up Roman’s crumpled shirt and throw it across the room towards him before he started to get dressed. “Is everything okay?” she asked, starting to pace around the room as she waited for what she assumed was an inevitable bombshell. “Nothing, I just wanted to hear your voice,” Madeline confessed, a silence falling between them as Gerri struggled to think of what to say to that.
Perhaps Madeline had finally started to feel homesick after almost a year away from home.
“Where are you?” Gerri asked, choosing the safe question. “Venice,” Madeline replied and it suddenly made sense why she had tried so hard to reach her. Venice was the last vacation she and Baird had taken the girls on before he died. “Did you go -” she started, but Madeline cut her off with a laugh. “Yes, we went on the gondolas, I’ll send you through some pictures,” Madeline promised.
Gerri heard a second voice in the background. The same voice she had heard the last time Madeline had called her. What was the name Lily had given her? Erik or something? A European guy. Gerri didn’t have a problem with that - so long as her youngest daughter didn’t come back to New York with any extra baggage.
“I have something for your birthday but it might be a little late,” Madeline explained, her voice pulling Gerri back from her musing, “I promise it’ll be worth the wait though.” Gerri smiled to herself at that. None of them had ever made a big fuss about birthdays since Baird’s death - with the exception of the full milestone birthdays in the last decade. “I’m sure I’ll love it either way,” Gerri assured her, eyes falling on the picture on her bedside table.
There was another pause before Madeline spoke again, an unusual hesitancy in her voice. “Mom, I’ve gotta run in a few but could you put Roman on the phone?” she asked.
Clearly the news had reached as far as Europe. Gerri assumed it was Lily who must have told her. Her older sister still protecting Madeline from the reality of the situation. Though Gerri supposed it was better for Madeline had heard it from Lily and not Shiv. If Shiv even remembered that Madeline existed.
“Oh, okay, sure, darling,” Gerri moved the phone away from her ear, holding it out towards Roman, “Rome, she wants to speak to you.” Roman didn’t look as shocked by that as she had expected him to.
“Hey, Maddie,” Roman greeted, putting the phone to his ear as he headed out towards the balcony while Gerri went to get dressed in her walk-in closet. It was probably better if she didn’t try to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Bonjourno, Roman,” Madeline replied, as though it was perfectly normal to have a Saturday morning conversation with her mother’s controversially younger boyfriend.
Roman closed the balcony doors before he put the phone back to his ear, “You got my email right?’ he asked, looking across at the New York skyline. “Yeah, I’ve got everything you sent,” Madeline confirmed, the music in the background getting louder as if the violinist was moving around the tables in whatever little bistro the youngest Kellman daughter had found herself in. “We’ll see you then,” Roman said, glad that at least one part of his plan was working out.
“Oh, and Mads,” he stopped her before she could hang up the phone. “Call your Mom on her birthday, okay?” Roman asked, waiting for Madeline to agree before she said goodbye and hung up the phone.
The balcony door opened behind him a minute later as Gerri reappeared, dressed in a simple grey wrap dress. “I’ve got to run out and get food for Horus, don’t destroy the place while I’m away,” she warned, ignoring his calls to pick up a Starbucks on her way back.
Roman waited for the front door of the penthouse to shut behind Gerri before he headed through to the lounge, hitting the four numbers to start a WhatsApp group call. All four of them picked up as quickly as he expected them to.
“What’s up, gossip girls?” he greeted, dropping himself down onto the sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Hilarious, Roman,” Nick said, his voice floating through from the other end. “Sorry, gossip girls and Nick,” Roman corrected himself.
“What do you want us for on a Saturday morning, Roman?” Alice asked, the background noise making it sound as if she was out walking somewhere. At least one of their assistants wasn’t in the office. “It’s Gerri’s birthday on Friday,” Roman started, knowing it wasn’t news to any of the Kellman-Roy assistants, perhaps with the exception of Nick. He probably wouldn’t remember his own brother’s birthday if it wasn’t for Facebook.
“I want to throw her a party but like obviously, I’ve never done this before,” he continued, getting to the point of the call. “Any ideas?” Roman asked, setting the phone on speaker as he opened the note section of his phone. “It’s got to be something low-key,” Nancy offered, an echoing coming from her line. “Yeah like fifteen people max, Roman,” Emily added.
Alice’s voice cut through next, “Why don’t you have it at the penthouse? I know there’s a dining room there that will more than hold everyone - plus, we risk a tip-off by having the party out somewhere,” she suggested, mindful that her boss was particularly a fan of being the centre of attention.
Roman picked up his phone and headed in the direction of the dining room, one of the many rooms that they never used in the penthouse. Their lives seemed to exist between the lounge, kitchen, Gerri’s study where Horus was, and the master bedroom. He thought back to what Gerri had said the night before about never having hosted anyone in there.
“Yeah, that would work,” Roman agreed, figuring that the table would seat at least 12 guests and maybe more if they wanted to invite anyone more than that,
“Does that Italian place she likes do catering?” Emily asked, picking up a pen to start scribbling down a suggested menu. She had ordered enough takeout from there to know what Gerri’s favourites were. “No, but they will for her,” Nancy replied and Roman could hear typing on the other end, meaning she was probably already working on an email to send to the restaurant.
“I’m working on her gift already, well, part of it, but I need ideas on what else I could get her,” Roman explained, relieved that he could at least see the party coming together. Alice, Nancy, and Emily would take care of most of it.
“You could always buy her a dog,” Nick suggested and for a second Roman thought he heard Nancy’s voice beside Nick, as though they were together and not in two separate places. “A dog is as serious as a ring, Nick,” Emily scolded and Roman chuckled at that, thinking of how he had suggested getting her a dog the first night he had stayed at the penthouse.
“Obviously you’re all invited,” he assured them, not caring if anyone would frown at the idea of their assistant being at Gerri’s birthday dinner. The two of them only managed to keep their heads about water because of the gaggle of assistants. Another thought popped into his head then.
“Alice, can you send an invite to Lily? I would do it but I don’t even have her phone number and I’d like to keep this as a surprise for Ger,” Roman asked, suspecting it had been Alice who had acted as messenger between mother and daughter. “Sure, Roman, I’ll let her know and tell her it’s a surprise. Do you want to invite her girlfriend as well?” Alice questioned, not wanting to overstep the mark. She had already had one minor run-in with Lily. “Sure, let’s invite the mystery woman,” he decided, knowing it was about time someone made Lily and Gerri more familiar with each other’s private lives again.
Roman looked up as he heard the mechanical lock turn at the front door. “Gotta go, everyone give me an update on Monday please,” he instructed before hanging up the phone.
“What have you been up to?” Gerri questioned, eyeing him suspiciously from the other side of the lounge as she dropped the Whole Foods back down onto the top of the counter. “Well, I started by digging through your photo albums for any pics of younger Gerri I could steal, then I got bored and went through your underwear drawer again,” he joked, eyes following Gerri as she disappeared off down the hallway with a plastic container of berries in her hand for Horus.
Roman looked down as he heard his phone beeper. Emily’s name flashed across it with the message “flights and transfers confirmed for day of RECNY ball”.
That was one part of Gerri’s birthday gift ticked off his list.
Across Manhattan, Lily sat down her coffee as her phone screen jumped to life with an email notification. The cafe was still relatively quiet - the usual early Saturday morning assortment of students cramming for exams, parents waiting for post-practice pick-up, and groups of friends meeting up before a day in the city. It was the sort of little independent coffee spot that only a true New Yorker would know and one Lily spent most of her Saturday mornings in.
“Well, that’s interesting,” she said, reading over the email invitation from Alice. The brunette across from her looked up from behind her copy of Vogue. Lily’s phone screen changed before she could accept the invite. “You jinxed me,” she said, turning to look at her companion before answering the call and bringing the phone to her ear.
“What did I do to deserve a call from you at 10am on a Saturday morning?” Lily greeted, nails tapping against the table as she heard Shiv’s voice come through from the other end of the phone. “I heard about your little run in with Kerry,” Siobhan started, the gloating evident in her voice, “You must be loving all this press attention your mother is getting.”
Lily felt her jaw tense a little at that. The other woman clearly had no idea that mother and daughter were trying to mend their relationship. “Siobhan, I’m not interested in whatever it is you want from me,” Lily insisted, the rational part of her brain refusing to let her simply hang up the phone. “Have you heard Logan is considering sending them out to finish the GoJo negotiations?” Siobhan announced, her words stopping the blonde in her tracks.
Lily paused, the woman across from her reaching out to take her hand to check if she was okay. She shook her head towards her partner, biting her lip as she considered her neck move.
“I don’t know what that has to do with me, Shiv,” Lily declared, squeezing the hand of the woman opposite her. “I thought you would’ve wanted mommy to finally retire,” Siobhan insisted, knowing exactly what buttons to press to get a rise out of her former friend. “Siobhan, are you threatened by my mother?” Lily asked, the defensiveness evident from the way her voice became deeper in that moment.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. The penny had dropped for Shiv. This was no longer friendly territory.
“You Roys always did like to throw your toys out of the pram and then expect the Kellmans to clean up after you,” Lily observed, letting go of her partner’s hand as she picked up her coffee once more. She could hear Shiv breathing on the other end of the phone before she appeared to decide what move to play next.
“There could be a place here for you, Lily. VP of Advertising - company wide,” Siobhan offered and Lily thought it was the first time she had ever heard the trickle of desperation in the other woman’s voice. Lily smirked as she looked down at the lipstick stain on the rim of her coffee cup.
“There’s only one person I’d take that job from and it’s not you,” she rejected the offer, the balance of power shifting more in her favour. “Come on, Lily. We could do something here. Another Kellman-Roy alliance,” Siobhan tried again, her voice lower as she tried to reel the other woman in.
Lily ran her tongue across her lips, looking at the woman across from her as she spoke. “Shivvy, I know an excellent psychologist, shall I send you her number and you can work out whatever daddy issues you’ve got going on here?” she smirked to herself.
The line went dead.
Kellman - 1
Roy - 0
“I’m assuming that was the infamous Ms. Roy?” the brunette woman across the table asked, watching as Lily set her phone back down onto the phone. “Ugh, yes - again,” she answered, reaching across the table to take the last strawberry off the other woman’s plate. “ I told you she’d call again,” the older of the two insisted.
“By the way, Elise, we have a party to go to on Friday,” Lily announced, her mind going back to what she had been doing before Shiv’s call. “God, tell me it’s not another one of Anna’s,” Elise groaned, not sure she had it in her to get through another Wintour party. There were always far too many investors and designers hitting on her so-called ‘controversially younger’ partner for her liking.
“ Shut up , you love Anna’s parties,” Lily protested, her voice going up an octave as Elise smiled back at her. “Only because it’s the one time I’m happy for you to go into a closet,” Elise joked as she leaned across the table to run her thumb across the right corner of Lily’s lip where her lipstick had gotten a little smudge. “Usually because I come out in some little vintage Chanel number,” Lily reminded her, thinking of what had happened after the last one of Anna’s parties.
“Yes, I do have to thank Anna for that, don’t I?” the brunette chuckled, adjusting her Celine sunglasses on top of her head. She had written Anna a cheque for three of those Chanel dresses at the last party, putting Lily back into the car still wearing one of them. Those vintage dresses looked better on their bedroom floor anyway.
Lily downed the rest of her coffee, glancing at the time on her watch, realising they still had a few more minutes to wait. She may as well break the news now. “Elise, I think it’s time you meet my mother,” Lily announced, ignoring the impending sense of doom that was threatening to fall over her.
“Ah, so it’s mommy dearest’s birthday party,” Elise concluded, putting two and two together. She had met Gerri before, at various conferences and charity events, just never under the guise of being her daughter’s long-term partner. More than once she had been left biting her tongue to stop herself from mentioning Lily. Perhaps that was part of the reason why Lily so rarely went to events with her.
“Just me?” she asked, watching as Lily turned her golden locket between her fingertips, tracing the little star and moon engraved onto the face. “Just you,” Lily agreed, picking up her phone once more to RSVP to Alice’s invite, adding a note that she’d be bringing Elise along.
Time to face the music - or rather, her mother.
Chapter 13: Watch It Begin Again
Notes:
So this is another chapter that got away from me. It’s the longest yet - by a country mile. This also isn’t the chapter I intended to leave you with before my vacation, but perhaps it’s fitting that you get a nice big chunk of fluff and not the angsty chapter that’s coming up next. You can thank my allergies taking me out last weekend for that. I’ll be back next week (hopefully without my allergies playing up and with a decent tan) with chapter 14. Enjoy the fluff, it’s the last you’re getting for a while 👀.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Gerri Kellman hated birthdays. Not only were they a reminder that she was getting older, but birthdays came with attention - and not the good sort. Birthdays had gone from being a day she circled in the calendar and counted down towards to something she practically shied away from.
Gerri preferred to simply pretend that September 5th was any other day in the year. If anything, they were an excuse for another martini - but nothing more. What was the point of birthdays if you had no one to celebrate them with?
While Gerri hated birthdays, they were Roman’s speciality. No birthday ever went uncelebrated and birthdays were never a one-day event. They were a week-long festivity. Something Gerri was all too aware of.
“Look, Rome, I just want today to be low-key,” she announced as the car travelled through lower Manhattan towards the Waystar Royco office. Roman had already made enough of a fuss about her. A stack of pancakes delivered still fresh and hot from the bistro they had gone to two weeks before, served with extra honey and berries. That alone was more attention than she had paid any other birthday for the last five years. “I told you it would be low-key,” Roman insisted, not looking up from his phone as he continued texting his assistants.
“I mean it, don’t go pulling anything at the office,” she warned, wondering if she was fighting a battle she would inevitably lose. Gerri wouldn’t have put it past him to have filled her office with balloons and have gotten all four of their assistants stuck involved in whatever shenanigans he was planning. “I’ll cancel the mariachi band and four-tier cake for the office then,” Roman shrugged, eyes still fixed on his phone. “I don’t even know if you’re joking or not,” Gerri groaned, putting her head in her hands as she contemplated whether it was too late to have her second sick day in as many weeks.
Roman leaned across the seats, putting his hand on her shoulder to give it a soft squeeze. “Gerri, I am not stupid enough to do anything at the office - I don’t plan on being castrated, yet,” he reminded her, waiting for Gerri to turn to look at him. “I will castrate you if there’s a cake at the office,” she threatened as the car rolled to a stop. “While that sounds promising, I swear we’re just having dinner tonight, that’s why I told you to pack an outfit to bring to the office,” Roman continued, reaching over to pick up Gerri’s work tote, garment bag, and his laptop case before getting out of the car.
“Fredrick,” Gerri called, looking forwards towards the driver’s seat while Roman headed around the back of the car. “I swear, ma’am, all I know is that I’m driving you both to dinner after work,” Fredrick insisted, looking at Gerri through the rear-view mirror before Roman opened the door for her. She pursed her lips, kissing her teeth before getting out of the car. She knew Roman well enough to know there was something up his sleeve.
The journey up to the office went entirely to schedule - as if it was any other day. The assistants greeted them in turn and not even Alice seemed to acknowledge that it was her birthday.
That only made Gerri even more suspicious.
“Gerri, sorry, I just need you to sign off on a few things!” Emily called after the interim CEO as she stepped into her office, trailing after her with a bundle of papers and a legal pad.
Roman took it as his cue to stop by the huddle of desks, waiting for Gerri to get out of earshot before he spoke. “Do you have everything?” he asked, one eye on Emily as his first assistant headed into Gerri’s office to speak to her. Nancy and Alice nodded in unison, the latter opening her phone to pull up a spreadsheet the assistants had been working on. “I have an entire box of candles,” Nancy announced, tapping her Mary Janes against the box that she had tucked under her desk to keep it out of Gerri’s line of sight. “You realise we’re decorating one dining table, right?” Nick asked from where he was sitting on top of his desk on the other side of Roman.
“Yeah but have you ever seen the tablescapes on Pinterest?” Nancy asked, squinting her eyes at Nick as if he had stated something entirely obvious. “Fair point,” Nick agreed, knowing it wasn’t worth fighting with Nancy about something she was clearly more qualified in. Even he knew not to come between Nancy and her Pinterest boards.
“You know, I reckon Lily would know what she was doing, we should have asked her,” Roman mused, hands on his hip as he looked down at the box Nancy had just pointed out. He was sure Gerri’s daughter was the sort of person who hosted dinner parties all the time. Roman’s biggest fear was that the whole thing just wouldn’t work. That something would go wrong - whether it was Lily not showing up or the food being cold. He just wanted everything to go according to plan.
“Well, the prodigal daughter isn’t here, now is she?” Alice observed in a tone that made Nancy do a double take. It was no secret that the first daughter and first assistant weren’t particularly fans of each other. “Look, just keep busy today. I think Willa wants to take her out for lunch - those two are like best friends or something now, it’s weird,” Roman cringed, not sure what to make of Gerri and Willa’s new-found friendship.
He looked up as Emily started to head back out of Gerri’s office. “Everything’s going to be fine, Roman, I’ve packed one of my cameras as well to get some proper pictures for you both,” Nancy assured him, finding it rather endearing how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, well, it better,” he mumbled, part of him thinking it would’ve been easier to have just booked out a restaurant or something for the night.
But he had a point to make. He wanted to put that dining room to use. Fill it with the people Gerri carried about most - with the obvious exception of Madeline. Wanted to show her that she didn’t have to choose between a personal life and a professional one. He needed to use that evening as a chance to show her how everything could work for them.
By 12:30 pm no one had mentioned Gerri’s birthday. It wasn’t just that which had made her suspicious. Karolina hadn’t shown her face yet and neither Karl nor Frank had popped in to see her. Lily and Madeline had texted her to wish her a happy birthday but other than Roman they were the only two people to acknowledge it so far.
That was until the knock came at her office door and the least likely of visitors popped her head around the door.
“Hello, birthday girl!” Willa announced, leaning against the doorframe of Gerri’s office as the older woman adjusted her glasses, blinking as if she thought her eyes were playing up. “Willa? What are you doing here?” Gerri asked, closing down her laptop screen as Willa stepped further into the room, coming to a stop in front of Gerri’s desk. “Well, a little birdie told me your schedule is pretty lowkey today, so I thought I’d treat you to lunch for your birthday,” she explained, though at least half her motivation had been to get Gerri out of the way so the assistants could go and set-up the apartment.
Gerri didn’t look so certain. “Oh, Willa, you don’t have to,” she insisted with a shake of her head. Her plans for lunch had been to hide in her office - or Karolina’s office if Frank or Karl came looking for her. Though both of them seemed suspiciously absent so far today. “I also need your thoughts on wedding stuff,” Willa added, knowing that was probably enough to talk Gerri around to going out for lunch with her.
It worked.
“Okay, where are we going?” Gerri asked, pushing her seat back from the desk as she headed across the room to pick up her bag. “I was thinking about that sushi place down the street,” Willa suggested, waiting for Gerri at the door before the older woman stopped out to tell her assistants she was going for lunch. “Tell Roman I’ll be back in a bit,” Gerri told Emily as she waved in at Roman through the glass partition into his office, seeing that he was on the phone to someone.
Roman gave it a minute or two after the elevator doors shut before he headed out towards the assistants’ desks. “Right, battle stations, people,” he announced, clapping his hands together in his best impersonation of a football coach. “Here’s a key,” Roman said, pulling the key to Gerri’s apartment out of the top pocket of his blazer, putting it down on Emily’s desk.
“So, she’s given you a key then?” his first assistant asked with a knowing smirk as she folded her arms. The four assistants had toyed with the idea of putting an official bet on when the pair would move into together. Emily looked set to sweep the board and pocket the $200 if this recent development was anything to go off. “Ems, not now,” Roman warned, having too much going through his head to let that particular thought linger. Gerri had given him the spare key a few days before when she had gotten caught up in a late conference call with the L.A. office. She hadn’t asked for the key back and he hadn’t mentioned it to her.
“I’m trusting you guys not to make it look like the craft section of Target just threw up in the dining room,” he said, turning his attention to the other three assistants. “Roman, we’ve got this, chill,” Alice promised, finding it rather amusing how much the man was overthinking a rather straightforward dinner party. Though she supposed it was probably the first time in his life Roman had ever tried to plan something himself without a professional event planner doing most of the work. “You have everything?” he asked, glancing over the numerous bags and boxes the assistants had pulled out from their various hiding places once Gerri had left.
Emily nodded as she counted over the boxes to double check everything was there. “Candles, flowers, a diamond ring,” she teased, knowing just what to say to put her boss on edge. “Emily,” Roman warned again, questioning his sanity in leaving the four assistants in charge of setting up the dinner party.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” Emily assured him, rolling her eyes as she dropped the box down onto her desk. “The caterers are coming around 5:30 pm to drop everything off, so just have Gerri back at the apartment for like 6 pm,” she reminded him, slipping the key into her dress pocket before picking the box back up again.
“Oh, and feed the tortoise, there’s berries and shit in the fridge,” Roman added, throwing his credit card across the desk towards Nancy and Alice, “In case you need anything else.” Nancy picked it up, looking like a kid who had just been given free rein in a candy store. “Anything else?” she asked, as if already mentally calculating how many rolls of film she could charge to Roman’s American Express card.
“If you get it past the boss,” he shrugged, knowing that the finance department could write just about anything off as a business expense. “He means me, by the way,” Emily insisted, shifting the box of napkins and champagne glasses in her arms as the gaggle of assistants headed towards the elevator.
Alice held back for a moment. “Listen, Roman, how are you planning on doing this?” she asked, part of her concerned that he was simply going to spring this all on Gerri and embarrass her. It was one thing to be the centre of attention in a business meeting or a conference, it was another to have the spotlight thrown on you in a personal capacity - even if it was with your friends. Alice had been around long enough to know that ‘office Gerri’ and ‘private Gerri’ were two different people.
“What do you mean?” Roman asked, caught off guard by her question. He had been so caught up in the whole idea of throwing a surprise party that he hadn’t thought of the fact Gerri was someone who didn’t do surprises. “Are you just going to bring her up to the apartment and have everyone shout ‘surprise’ when she walks in?” Alice questioned, making it clear just how stupid of an idea that plan was.
“That was the idea,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “God, men are idiots,” Alice groaned, shaking her head as she adjusted the box of flowers on her hip. “What have I messed up now?” Roman protested, not seeing the problem. It was only going to be about twelve of them for dinner. He was hardly throwing her a party like the one Logan had at Dundee.
Now that would be a batshit idea - even Roman knew that.
“Look, that would make her super uncomfortable - especially if she’s not expecting it,” Alice warned, as if seeing the whole thing unfolding in front of her. Gerri would probably want the ground to open up and swallow her whole if someone threw her a surprise birthday. “Overthinker” and “control freak” were Gerri’s middle names, like any Virgo.
Roman admitted defeat. “Well, what do you suggest, Martha Stewart?” He asked, sitting down on the edge of Emily’s desk as he watched the other three assistants at the lift. “How about I meet you both downstairs when you arrive and take you up? I’ll get everyone to be super chilled when you arrive as well,” Alice suggested, knowing she could answer any questions Gerri would no doubt have and it would still be a relative surprise. “Okay,” he agreed, finally seeing the errors in his ways. Roman supposed that was why Gerri had kept Alice around for so long.
“Alice?” He called, the blonde having already stepped away from the desks. “Yeah,” she paused, stopping mid-way to the elevator, the other three assistants already inside the metal box with Nick holding the doors open for her. “Thanks for helping, I don’t really know what I’m doing here,” Roman confessed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced into Gerri’s empty office. He just wanted everything to go right. For them to have one drama-free evening to celebrate Gerri’s birthday. “That’s why you pay us the big bucks,” Alice chuckled, giving him a smile before heading towards the elevator as Emily called her name again.
Roman had made a point of avoiding Gerri for the rest of the afternoon, waiting until 6 pm before going and knocking on her office door. “Ger, are you….” he paused, eyes finding her across the room as he took in the sight in front of him. Gerri’s dress was one of those wiggle ones that seemed to show off every curve of her body. The fabric draped across her waist and hips, while the square neckline gave him more than a generous view of his favourite features. It was another one of those dresses he was convinced she had made just for her.
“Sorry, I’m looking for my girlfriend, have you seen her? She’s like this high,” Roman asked, holding his hand up beside his shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe.
“I’m taller than that,” Gerri corrected him, slipping into her heels as she stood up from the sofa. Roman smirked as he caught sight of the Manolos. His favourite pair. The black Mary Janes that his face was more than acquainted with.
“And I’m not your girlfriend,” Gerri reminded him, checking her lipstick in her compact mirror once more before tucking the little gold mirror into her clutch bag. “You wound me, Ger, you really do,” Roman protested as he crossed the room towards him, “What do you call the man who buys you LaPerla and Manolo?” he asked, hands coming to rest on her waist as he inched closer to her.
“Roman, there are still people around,” Gerri warned as she swatted his hands away, glancing out the glass partition towards the handful of Waystar employees who were still milling around the floor. The snotty-nose mid-ranking executives chasing an early promotion hardly ever left the office - not even on a Friday night when everyone else had left hours ago for a liquid lunch on the company card.
“And? Everyone here is NDA-ed up to their eyeballs,” Roman reminded her, putting his hands back to where they had been. “Later,” she promised, contenting him for now with a chaste kiss on the lips, one she pulled away from quickly enough to stop him getting carried away.
“Where are we going for dinner?” Gerri asked as she stood waiting for him at the door of her office. “Well, that’s a surprise,” Roman declared, knowing he only had to keep the game going for another 15 minutes until they got back to the penthouse.
Gerri accepted his answer without any more prodding as she stepped into the elevator. “You know, I didn’t see Frank or Karl at all today,” she pointed out, leaning against the elevator wall as Roman joined her. “Maybe they just forgot, they probably don’t have enough brain cells to remember their own birthdays,” he shrugged it off, knowing the pair had deliberately avoided her for fear of letting the cat out of the bag.
They had been in the car for ten minutes when Gerri started to get two and two together that something was up.
“Freddie, shit, sorry, pal, I forgot something at the apartment, can we take a detour there first?” Roman called into the front of the car as he patted down his blazer as if he had just realised he didn’t have something. “What did you forget now?” Gerri asked, eyes narrowing as she looked at him suspiciously.
Something was up.
“Your birthday present,” Roman announced as the car pulled into Gerri’s street. “Rome, we can just get it later,” she insisted, shrugging it off. The car rolled to a stop and Roman got out, turning around to look at Gerri as Fredrick killed the engine.
“Come on up with me,” he instructed, shutting his door before jogging around the back of the car to get to her side. “Roman, what are you up to?” Gerri asked as he opened her door and took her hand to help her out. “We just have to stop and get your gift then we’ll go eat,” Roman insisted, pulling her by the hand as they walked towards the apartment complex.
Gerri did a double take as she caught sight of the blonde woman standing in the middle of the lobby in a little black tweed dress. “Alice? What are you doing here?” she asked, stopping in front of the assistant who looked significantly more dressed up than she ever did at the office.
It was then that it all clicked in Gerri’s mind.
“Oh, Roman, what have you done?” she accused, turning her head towards the smug-looking man beside her. “We’re having dinner here, okay? Just us and your friends,” Roman announced as the trio started to head towards the elevators.
“And the assistants,” Gerri pointed out, nodding her head towards her first assistant. While she considered Alice as close as family, she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for spending her birthday with other people. “Well, someone had to set the whole thing up,” Roman pointed out, having seen the pictures Emily had sent him of the peony covered dining table with vanilla scented candles and champagne flutes.
“Alice, who was all invited?” Gerri questioned her first assistant as they stepped into the elevator. “The assistants, Karl, Frank, Karolina, Connor, Willa, Lily,” Alice recited, though one of those guests had yet to show up. “So no Logan?” Gerri asked, visibly relaxing at the relief of knowing he wasn’t up in her penthouse draining what remained of Baird’s prized whisky collection. Roman practically snorted at that. “No I did not invite Scrooge and Anna Nicole Smith, give me some credit, G,” he lamented with a shake of his head as the elevator took them up to the sixteenth floor.
Gerri stepped out first, adjusting the draping of her dress as she walked towards the front door, pressing her key against the mechanical lock. “I told you she wouldn’t want a big surprise,” Alice whispered to Roman as they followed the birthday girl towards the door, waiting for a moment before stepping into the penthouse after her.
Lily wasn’t there. At least, not yet.
That was one of the first things Gerri noticed. Her eyes scanned over Willa and Connor, glancing momentarily at the assistants, mistaking Alice for a second as being Lily, before her focus shifted as Karolina walked towards her.
“Happy birthday, Gerri,” the PR Executive greeted as she hugged her friend, “I promise I wasn’t avoiding you today, we just didn’t want you figuring this all out,” she explained as Frank and Karl walked up behind her while Roman moved around them to speak to Connor and Willa. “I thought you all had forgotten,” Gerri confessed as Karolina let her go and Frank then Karl took it in turns to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “You know Karl can’t keep his trap shut about anything,” Frank insisted, throwing a look at their colleague as they switched places. “You’re the one who told Logan about his last surprise party before Dundee,” Karl reminded him as the trio stepped back in front of Gerri.
Alice appeared at her arm with a glass of champagne and the bottle to top up Karolina’s glass. “We should have the food out soon in the dining room,” she said while handing the champagne glass over to Gerri. “Thank you, Alice,” she said as Karolina and Karl headed towards the lounge to grab a seat.
“Happy birthday, boss,” Nancy greeted from her spot sitting on the carpet near the TV. “Make yourself at home, Nancy,” Gerri chuckled, knowing how well the second assistant was at making herself comfortable in new spaces. Nancy had a Labrador personality, whether that meant standing over Gerri like a guard dog or lounging around at her leisure. “Oh, I will, don’t you worry,” Nancy joked, raising her half-empty champagne glass towards Gerri before turning back to the shelves beside her.
A knock sounded from the front door and Gerri tightened her grip on her champagne flute as Roman crossed the room. “I’ll get it,” Alice offered, setting her martini down onto the coffee table before heading towards the front door of the apartment. “Gerri, can I borrow some of these sometimes? Like none of these are on streaming,” Nancy called over her shoulder, distracting Gerri away from the commotion at the front door and bringing her further into the lounge. “Sure, Nanc, borrow whichever ones you’d like,” Gerri offered, smiling at the younger woman that was sitting cross-legged in front of her DVD shelf under the TV.
Gerri looked back up in time to see Roman greeting the couple by the door. It was the head of bouncy blonde curls that gave Lily away.
There was a sense of relief then. Lily had come after all. For the first time in over five years she was going to spend her birthday with at least one of her girls.
Roman stepped forward to greet the second woman, while Lily’s eyes found her mother. “Happy birthday, Mom,” she greeted, arms outstretched as she walked towards the older woman, bypassing the other guests who were watching from the sidelines. “I’m sorry we’re late, we got caught in traffic,” Lily explained, feeling Gerri squeeze her a little tighter as they hugged. It was then that Lily realised her Mom still wore the same perfume she had when she was a little kid. An aroma of sweet vanilla that Lily had forever associated with the brownstone townhouse she grew up in.
Gerri looked over Lily’s shoulder as she pulled away from the younger woman, her eyes finally focusing on the person standing behind them. “Elise?” she asked, blinking twice to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. “Hello, Gerri,” Elise greeted as Lily stepped back to return to her partner’s side.
A pause fell over the group as Gerri looked - for the first time that Roman could recall - lost for words.
Roman smirked as he leaned closer to Lily, nudging her arm with his elbow. “Mommy and mommy have met then,” he taunted, before shutting his mouth as he caught the Medusa glare sent his way. “Roman, I swear -” Lily hissed, already anxious enough about her mother and partner coming face to face in the current context. Lily would spend her entire day pacing around the office every time Elise was invited to an event with Waystar employees in attendance out of fear that her mother would somehow put two and two together.
Everyone in the media world knew each other. Everyone knew Elise. And that included Gerri.
“This is… well, it’s rather a surprise,” Gerri paused, glancing from Elise to her daughter and back again. The fact Lily’s partner was someone Gerri knew caused another little fault line to form. Another reminder that her daughter had felt the need to push her out of every part of her life.
“Would you have believed me if I told you?” Elise asked, distracting herself from the hint of tension that was hanging in the air by stepping behind Lily to help the younger woman out of her coat. “Touche,” Gerri agreed, part of her thinking she would likely have laughed in Elise’s face if the woman had slid up beside her at a charity gala to tell her she was dating her eldest daughter.
Gerri unapologetically gave Elise the elevator eyes. Her eyes trialled up from the woman’s knee-high suede Louboutin boots to her poppy red dress and the navy coat with its distinctive Gucci ribboning. She didn’t fail to spot the stacks of rings on almost every finger - cocktail rings slipped on top of subtle little diamond bands and a small gold signet ring.
Lily pursed her lips as she stood between her mother and partner as Elise handed their coats off to Alice to put away. Gerri still appeared a little shell-shocked by the most recent development in her mending of bridges with Lily.
Elise Ward being her daughter’s secret partner certainly explained the Hermes bags and the confidence Lily had in staring down Kerry the week before. It even explained the fact Lily was wearing a green tweed minidress from Valentino that Gerri was certain she had seen in that month’s Vogue with its distinctive little gold V branding on the pockets.
But still - Elise was far from what Gerri had expected. Maybe even far from what Gerri wanted for her daughter.
Alice walked back across the lounge after leaving Lily and Elise’s jackets on the coat rack, squinting her eyes as Emily and Nancy waved her closer. “You like - you do know who that is right?” Emily hissed, while Nancy stepped forward to tap Nick’s mouth shut to stop him looking like a blowfish. “No, but I reckon you’re about to enlighten us all,” Nancy replied, the four assistants now huddled in a circle with champagne glasses in hand next to the TV.
“That’s Elise Ward. Chairman of Condé Nast. Her family are like rich, rich. Think of her as Logan if he had old money,” Emily explained, trying to hide her lips behind her champagne flute in case the person in question looked their way and realised she was talking about her. “Well, that sure explains a lot,” Nancy agreed as she took a sip from her martini glass. Nick crossed his arms as he turned to look at her, “Alright, Nancy Drew, spill,” he said with an unamused tone. Nancy rolled her eyes, wondering if perhaps Nick had banged his head recently or if he had always been so slow on the uptake.
“Do you think an advertising executive is buying a Kelly bag on her own dime? Plus, that rock on Lily’s finger makes the bag look cheap by comparison,” Nancy pointed out, nodding her head towards the woman in question, the Kelly bag now set down delicately on the coffee table. “She did also tell Kerry about sleeping with the boss,”she added to no one in particular. All those years with her nose stuck in an Agatha Christie book and watching Murder She Wrote reruns had clearly paid off.
“So Elise is like her boss’ boss?” Alice asked, eyes fixed on where her boss was standing, looking more lost than Alice had ever seen her. “The boss,” Emily replied, sipping on her champagne as they watched the show unfold in front of them. Nick shrugged his shoulders, not seeing the potential problem with it all. “You know what, fair play,” he said, tipping back his champagne glass, “Good for her.”
Nancy rolled her eyes as she stepped forward, putting her back to Nick as she huddled closer to Emily and Alice. “Do we think Elise might have a brother?” she asked, wondering where she could sign up for the Hermes treatment. “I thought you didn’t like rich guys,” Nick protested, turning around to try and get back into the huddle. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” she reminded him, handing Nick over her empty champagne glass. The three female assistants turned their attention back to the two Kellman women across the room, their respective partners standing beside them.
“Now, I reckon you are where Lily gets her love for martinis from,” Elise announced with a beaming smile, taking it upon herself to put out the first olive branch. “Guilty as charged,” Gerri acknowledged, her lips pulling into a smile as she tried to avoid thinking about what else her eldest daughter could be hiding from her. She had expected Lily’s partner to be a little older - maybe a partner at a law firm or an investment banker - but nothing had prepared her for Elise Ward walking into her apartment.
“Well, how about I shake us up a round?” Elise offered, one hand on Lily’s back as though to check on her. Roman took the hint Elise was throwing his way. Lily and Gerri needed a minute or two alone.
“Are you going to steal my bartending duties?” he asked, making it clear he was planning on joining her over at the kitchen. “I only shake for the Kellman girls,” Elise laughed, her arm snaking around Lily’s waist, giving her a squeeze in a bid to drop the tension out of the other woman’s shoulders.
“Well, that makes two of us,” Roman levelled, glancing once more towards Gerri before he crossed over to Elise, waving for her to follow him. “I’ve been shaking martinis longer than you’ve been alive, Roman Roy,” Elise teased him, slipping her phone into her back pocket as she turned towards him. “She’s got you beat there, Rome,” Gerri smiled, loosening her grip on her champagne flute as Roman and Elise headed off to the kitchen.
Lily folded her hands in front of her as she was left alone with her mother. “You could have given me a heads up, Lils,” Gerri whispered, glancing over at the kitchen where Roman was passing a couple of martini glasses towards Elise. “Mom, don’t start,” Lily warned, knowing it wasn’t the time nor the place for them to get into a fight about her choice of partner. More than once Lily had thought it might have been easier to just have Elise slide up beside Gerri someday at a conference and break the news to her that way. But Lily doubted Elise would have lived to tell the tale if she had.
Gerri opened her mouth once more but another person’s voice reached her ears before she could speak. “Well, if my eyes don’t fail me now,” Karl declared, spilling a little of his champagne as he put his arms out. “Uncle Karl!” Lily greeted, feet off the ground as Karl picked her up, her arms locked around the man’s neck.
“Lily Geraldine!” Frank called, setting his champagne glass down before crossing the room towards the pair. “Uncle Frank!” she laughed, stepping out of Karl’s arms to launch herself at Frank. “Look at you, kid,” he beamed, holding her at arm’s length to get a proper look at her once more. It felt a little like seeing Gerri again the first time she walked into the Waystar office all those years ago.“Oh, your dad would be so proud of you,” Frank added, a little more somberly as he squeezed Lily’s shoulders. Lily’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile playing on them as she let go of him, nodding her head in acknowledgement of what he had said.
The noise behind her made it clear that Elise and Roman were on their way back to them, martinis in hand. “This is my partner, Elise,” Lily introduced them to the brunette woman as she appeared back by her side. She put one of the martini glasses into Lily’s hand while Roman handed one off to Gerri before turning to look at the man.
“Nice to meet you, Uncle Frank,” Elise greeted with a smile as she leaned forward to kiss the man’s cheeks, Elise’s heels giving her a slight height advantage over the older man. “Which means this very smartly dressed gentleman must be Uncle Karl,” she observed as she turned to look at Karl, who was doing his best impression of a fish with his mouth hanging open in an ‘O’ shape.
Gerri took a long sip of her martini, looking at Roman over the glass. Had he known about Elise or had he finally mastered the art of playing it cool? “So, I need a bit of an explanation here,” she announced, eyes fixed on her daughter’s significant older partner as Frank and Karl seemed to get the message. The two men quickly excused themselves to go and help Alice and Nancy in the kitchen.
Elise glanced over at Roman, clearly thinking the same thought that had already crossed Gerri’s mind at least once since the other woman walked into her apartment. There was probably the same age gap between Elise and Lily as there was between her and Roman. People who lived in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones (or Manolos either).
“We went on a trip together to London for work,” Lily began, the attention shifting back to the younger blonde woman who was nursing her martini between her hands, too anxious to sip on the elixir just yet. “It’s worth noting it wasn’t just me and Lily,” Elise interjected, not wanting Gerri to get the wrong impression. The last thing she wanted was to throw a spanner into the works of Lily and Gerri’s relationship now they were mending their bridges. “Anyway, we started out relatively friendly then just…I guess,” Lily paused, her free hand twirling at the gold pendant around her neck, fingers twisting through the thin chain, “Fell into step with one another.”
“And she’s been following me around ever since,” Elise joked as one arm snaked around Lily’s waist as she stepped up behind her, pulling the shorter woman towards her, Lily’s back settling against her chest. “I’ll remind you of that the next time you kick me out to do the 6am Starbucks run,” Lily teased, turning her head to look up at Elise.
It didn’t go past him how similar that story sounded to their own. Japan had been a catalyst for them, the thing that had changed their working relationship into something else. The starting point of this crazy - sometimes ridiculous - journey they had found themselves on.
All roads led back to Japan.
All roads for Lily and Elise led back to London.
“Gerri kicks me out at 6am as well but it’s to go and feed Horus,” Roman joked, ignoring the eye roll from Gerri as her daughter did a double take. “Horus is here?” Lily asked, wide eyed as she looked between her mother and the woman’s partner. “The tortoise is still alive?” Elise choked on her martini, licking her lips as Roman turned to look at Gerri. “Of course Horus is still alive,” she announced, though part of her was surprised that Lily even remembered about her father’s tortoise, “He’s down in the study, it’s the third door on the left.”
Lily didn’t need to be told twice before setting off down the hallway towards the study, Elise coming behind her with both their martinis.
“See, that went reasonably well,” Roman observed, trying to get a read on how Gerri was feeling as they watched Elise and Lily disappear down the hallway. Gerri didn’t say anything for a second - as if she was letting it all sink in. “Elise is….well, I just didn’t know she went that way,” she confessed, biting down on her lip. Gerri couldn't think of anything she knew about Elise that wasn’t related to her job or her wider family circle. Who was she to make assumptions about other people’s lives?
But Elise and Lily? That was a lot to unpack. Not just the age gap but the family backgrounds. For someone who had shied away from all the mess of the Roys and Waystar, Lily had found herself with someone in a similar situation as Logan with an all-too-powerful father and a family fortune of eye-watering sums.
Maybe Elise and Lily were proof that cycles could be broken. That the poison didn’t have to drip through. Another reminder that a relationship like her and Roman’s wasn’t as scandalous as it might have been twenty years ago.
“Pity really,” Roman tutted into his martini glass, knowing exactly how to press Gerri’s buttons. “Roman,” she scolded, reaching out to pinch his arm. “Don’t worry Ger, she’s a good 10 years too young for me,” he reminded her, smirking as he settled his hand on her lower back as she stepped closer. “Uhm, just you remember that, Mister,” she warned as the tension dropped from her shoulders before she finally gave in and smiled at him. A smile that finally reached her eyes.
“Wait,” Gerri paused, stopping to smell the air around her before her memory kicked in. “Is that…?” she asked, turning around to look back towards the kitchen where Nancy and Alice had just finished getting all the plates sorted. “Turns out the restaurant does actually do catering, if you order from them as much as you do,” Roman announced, watching as the two assistants finished plating up the final two dishes as Frank and Karolina carried the sides and sharing platters into the dinning room.
“Roman,” Gerri said, a little lost for words as she tried to think of the last time someone had done anything like that for her. “I’m a genius, I know, you can thank me later,” he declared, giving himself a metaphorical pat on the back as he lifted his arms up, martini glass in hand as he shrugged. Gerri put her hand on his chin, turning his face away gently so she could kiss his cheek., “Thank you,” she whispered. She wasn’t comfortable doing anything else in front of an audience, even if most of them were distracted by the glistening sea of martinis and the rich and savoury aroma of her favourite Italian food
There was an odd sense of poetic justice in her birthday being the first occasion the dining room was being used for. All but one seat was filled around the large mahogany table she had found in an antique store in SoHo one random Sunday afternoon after she had moved into the penthouse.
Karolina stepped over to speak to Gerri as they headed into the dining room, giving Lily a moment to grab Roman by himself.
“Your sister is on thin ice,” Lily warned as she slid up next to her mother’s partner, martini glass in hand. Roman wondered if he was developing the ‘Kellman Eyeroll’ as he folded his arms, keeping his eyes fixed on Gerri and Karolina ahead of them. “What’s Shivvy done now?” he asked, though he was almost sure what the answer was.
“She called me the other day,” Lily announced, pursing her lips in a way that reminded Roman of Gerri when she would be quietly seething over something. “Offered me VP of Advertising,” she added, watching as the colour drained a little from Roman’s face as his mind worked through the consequences of that.
He looked down at his feet anxiously, a habit he had picked up as a child when he’d be dragged in front of his father in the man’s office. Lily’s stilettos caught his attention - Manolos.
Of course they were Manolos.
“That’s not even hers to offer,” Roman insisted, shaking his head as he tried to consider what Shiv’s next move was. She had to be desperate to be trying to pull Lily’s strings. Desperate or incredibly naive. “Well, all I’m saying is watch your back,” Lily warned, taking a sip of her martini as Elise came back, rambling about how they needed to get a tortoise of their own.
“You can’t have Horus,” Roman said pointedly as Nancy and Alice appeared with the plates, waving the rest of the group towards the dining table. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lily promised him, walking around the table to take the seat across from Gerri’s with Elise sitting next to her across from Roman.
Nancy and Alice moved between the kitchen and the dining room, setting various pasta dishes down in front of each guest, alongside antipasto platters and bruschetta dishes.
“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” Lily apologised, turning to the blonde woman who was sitting next to her - the only figure at the table she hadn’t met before. “I’m Willa, I’m engaged to Roman’s brother, Connor,” Willa introduced herself, awkwardly holding her hand out for Lily to shake above the plates of pasta and bruschetta.
“Oh, nice to meet you Willa. I’m Lily, this is Elise,” she smiled, shaking the other woman’s hand as she nodded her head towards Elise next to her. The brunette finished chewing her pasta before introducing herself.
Connor leaned across the back of Willa’s chair, tapping the eldest Kellman daughter on the shoulder. “Lily, I need to speak to you about my campaign. We could really do with some advertising help,” he began to drone on, getting carried away in his campaign advertising strategy as Lily looked longingly at her pasta as she waited for him to finish. Elise eventually came to the rescue, handing her partner a side plate of bruschetta as she leaned back to look at the wannabe Presidential candidate. “I’m sorry, Connor, Ms. Lily here belongs to Conde,” Elise explained with her best apologetic smile as Willa mouthed an “I’m sorry” before both couples returned to their meal.
Roman picked at his pasta with a fork, spending more time peoplewatching than eating. “You good?” He asked Gerri as he leaned back to drape his arm across the top of her chair. “Very,” Gerri replied as she scooped up another forkful of pasta as Karolina continued talking next to her while her attention flickered between the couple across from them and the PR executive on her other side.
The conversation around the dinner table gradually grew more fluid as the groups merged. The four assistants sat around the bottom of the table as they listened to Frank and Karl recount Gerri’s first day as a Waystar employee. “How did you manage to get stuck in a fire escape?” Lily asked as Emily walked around the table to refill drinks. “My sense of direction was even worse back then,” Gerri shrugged, well aware of the fact it wasn’t much better now. It hadn’t been the only time she had managed to get locked out on that fire escape. Baird and Frank had been sent on a wild goose chase to find her on more than one occasion.
“But we all knew she was destined for great things and here we are. Gerri ruling over Waystar,” Frank concluded, raising his wine glass towards Gerri as a salute. “As Interim CEO, Frank,” she reminded him, twirling her martini glass between her fingers as she finished the last bite of her pasta.
Interim CEO was far from permanent. It felt like a probation period where she was guaranteed to be fired at the end and replaced with a less qualified man.
“Uhm, I wouldn’t be so sure about interim,” Karl suggested with a pointed look in Karolina’s direction. “Oh no, do not bring me into this,” Karolina warned, pointing her fork across the table at Frank and Karl. “No, go on, share with the class,” Roman insisted, catching Lily’s eye across the table as the blonde sat up a little straighter, her complexion looking a little paler against the green tweed of her dress.
Karolina glared at Karl as the man looked at Frank for help. The older of the two eventually relented. “There’s just a few rumours and a bit of speculation going on right now, that’s all,” Frank offered, but that only served to put Gerri’s teeth even more on edge. “What rumours?” She asked, leaning further back in her seat, Roman’s hand resting possessively on her shoulder. Frank looked down the table towards Elise with a pointed look.
“Willa, why don’t I help you with the cake?” Elise suggested, suspecting that Frank clearly couldn’t say whatever he needed to say with her present. Everyone else - with the exception of Lily and Willa - was a Waystar employee. Willa took the hint before following Elise out of the room.
Frank waited for the door to click closed behind them before he folded his hands on top of the table. “There’s speculation that Matsson wants to ensure there’s still an American CEO at the top,” he announced as Gerri put on her best poker face. That was exactly what she had been expecting Matsson to want. “Tell us something new, Frank,” Roman taunted with a shake of his head as he took the final sip of his martini. “There are rumours Logan plans to send you to see Matsson next week before the RECNY ball,” Frank revealed without missing a beat. Roman sat his glass down as he leaned forward, “Me?”, he asked uncomfortably. Perhaps Frank really was starting to go senile in his old age. “Both of you,” Frank clarified, looking from Gerri to Roman as Gerri’s poker face slipped for a moment.
What did Logan gain by sending them? And right before the RECNY ball? The chess board felt like it was moving again. Logan was on manoeuvres. The devil didn’t stop to observe celebrations like birthdays.
Lily picked up her martini glass, swirling the elixir around inside as she pursed her lips, the drink held just inches from her mouth. “It’s a pity patricide has gone out of fashion these days,” she mused, the Waystar employees turning to look at her wide-eyed, “Isn’t that how every great dynastic dispute ends?”
Nick gulped at the other end of the table. “I’ll make sure to give you a call when the time comes,” Roman scoffed, shifting in his seat as he turned his head from side to side, as though momentarily considering Lily’s suggestion.
The dining room door creaked open as Elise appeared, holding it steady as Willa stepped through with the modest white cake decorated with a dozen little periwinkle blue candles around the centre. Karolina stood up from her seat, clearing the way for Willa to set the cake down in front of Gerri as Elise, Emily, and Alice led the serenading of “Happy Birthday.”.
Nancy moved to the bottom of the table, one of her vintage film cameras in hand as she photographed Gerri blowing out the candles on her cake. Karolina reached forward to take Roman’s iPhone from him, letting him enjoy the moment rather than watch it through his phone screen.
Gerri cringed as Roman cheered in her ear as she blew out the candles. “Do not smash my head into this cake,” she warned him, picking the candles out of the cake so that Willa could cut it. “You mean you don’t want me to lick the cake off your face?” Roman asked, trying his best to look offended by the suggestion. “Oh god,” Lily groaned, putting her head in her hands across the table as she tried to avoid getting that mental picture stuck in her mind.
Roman shrugged, putting his finger out to scoop up a little of the cream from the outer side of the cake, sampling it in his best impression of a Michelin star critic. “You know what Willa, you knocked it out of the park,” he told her as the blonde walked around the table to cut the cake while Alice appeared with a stack of side plates to serve the slices onto.
“A friend of mine who used to be an actor started baking during the pandemic and well, she’s pretty good. She does the cakes as a side hustle,” Willa explained with a smile, having received a better reception during one dinner at Gerri’s apartment than all the times she had been with the other Roys combined. “You should ask her if she’ll do your wedding cake,” Gerri suggested, one eye on Roman for fear he might try to smash her face into the cake when she wasn’t paying attention. “Now that’s a good idea. I should ask her for a sample box,” Willa agreed, passing out the first slices of cake.
“There’s no better gift than a really good cake,” Karolina hummed against her fork as she licked the leftover cream off it - refusing to let a single crumble go to waste.
“Oh, I have a very small gift for you, Gerri,” Roman announced, getting up from his seat to pick up the gift sitting on the side table that was wrapped in a periwinkle blue paper and tied with a white ribbon. Someone else had done the wrapping - obviously not Roman. He handed over the gift to her while pushing her plate out of the way, moving one of the lit candles towards the centre of the table.
“Is this a calendar?” Gerri laughed, feeling around the edges of the large square-shaped gift as he handed it over to her when he came back to his seat. Roman shrugged, staying silent as he watched Gerri pull back the wrapping paper until the front of the gift was clearly in her view.
“Where did you even find this?” Gerri asked, the disbelief evident in her voice as her eyes remained fixed on the gift in her lap. “Come on, what is it?” Karl called from his end of the table, not able to see much beyond Frank and Karolina next to him.
Gerri turned the vinyl record around, the signature clear to see across the cover of ‘Maria Callas: The Arias’.
Lily caught it first.
“La Divina,” she smiled across the table as she gave Roman a nod of approval, toasting her martini glass towards him. “Maria Callas taught your cold-hearted bitch of a girlfriend how to feel, Mon chérie,” she told Elise with a knowing smirk as Gerri pushed back the rest of the wrapping paper to lift out the vinyl record case. Roman silently wondered if Lily realised how similar she was to her mother. She had practically just recited word for word what Gerri had said that night all those weeks ago when she laid beside him as the music played.
Gerri remained sitting looking at home open-mouthed. “I notice things,” Roman shrugged, picking up his martini to hide the blush that was creeping into his cheeks. There was no way he was going to tell their guests about how he knew of Gerri’s love for opera music - or how he was developing an ever-growing soft spot for it.
“You really are full of surprises,” Gerri smiled, her fingers tracing over the signature on the record before she threw caution to the wind and reached out to take his hand. “Right, Willa, get cutting that cake, please!” Lily called up the table, as if sensing her mother’s discomfort at being watched. It posed enough of a distraction for Gerri to be able to reach across and hug Roman with only Alice and Emily noticing from their end of the table while the others started passing out the rest of the cake as Willa continued cutting slices.
The group eventually swapped the dining room for the lounge and balcony, the sliding doors left open for Frank and Karl who had helped themselves to the whisky stash. Connor had inevitably cornered Karolina about his campaign, while Willa had found another unlikely ally in Elise to help with her wedding planning.
Gerri and Lily had taken residence on the large low-back sofa across from the television, martinis in hand and a little bowl of olives on the coffee table. Roman had disappeared off to give the assistants an official tour of the apartment, including a meet and greet with the “immortal Horus”.
“Your necklace is adorable,” Gerri said, eyes fixed on the pendant around her daughter’s neck, watching as the gold gleamed in the candlelight and the warm glow coming from the Tiffany lamp behind them.
Lily raised an eyebrow at her mother’s choice to describe a vintage pendant as ‘adorable’. She lifted the locket between her thumb and index finger, the pearls and opal clearer to distinguish between in the brighter light. “It was a gift from Elise,” Lily explained, looking down at the little crescent moon that was filled with miniature pearls and the guiding star next to it with an opal at its heart, a flower growing between the two with little red and green gems.
“What’s inside?” Gerri asked, hand reaching out to touch the pendant. Lily flinched, her shoulder pulling back to put a little more distance between her and her mother. “Don’t you know the rules, Mother? Never ask a lady her age or what’s in her locket,” she laughed it off, hand dropping the pendant as she raised her martini glass as a shield between her mother and the locket.
Gerri opened her mouth to ask another question about it before Elise reappeared, her second martini in hand as she sat herself down on the other side of Lily. “Roman did very well with his gift,” Elise remarked with a smile, her arm coming to rest over the back of the sofa around Lily, the younger woman instinctively leaning back towards her partner. There was a natural cohesion between the pair that made Gerri feel like an outsider. They moved more like one person than a couple, as if instinctively knowing what the other one was doing at any moment.
That told Gerri enough about their relationship to make her certain that this wasn’t something new. Lily had been hiding it from her for quite some time. But for how long? The last five years had been bumpy at best.
How much had she missed out on?
“He did, didn’t he?” Gerri smiled, but her eyes shifted to her skirt, pulling at a loose thread absentmindedly. “I bought Lily new pointe shoes for her birthday,” Elise announced, watching as Gerri’s head lifted slowly, eyes fixed on her daughter’s face. “You started dancing again?” Gerri asked, thinking of the years spent trying to get out of Waystar meetings in time to make it to dance recitals and ballet practice. She and Baird had tried to take it in turns, making sure at least one of them was there. But more often than not Lily had looked out into the audience during her recitals to see neither of her parents smiling back at her.
“I wish,” Lily giggled, her laugh releasing some of the tension in Gerri’s shoulders. “I can’t even do a proper pirouette anymore,” she lamented, remembering the time she used to spend in a leotard and pointe shoes. “We should go sometime - to the ballet, I mean,” Gerri suggested, not knowing when the last time was that she had been to see a performance. “We go all the time. Just let me know what you’d like to see and I’ll arrange something,” Elise announced, her index finger twirling around a strand of Lily’s blonde curls.
That olive branch has been enough for the newly formed trio to fall into the same ease of conversation as Lily and Gerri had at their brunch three weeks before.
Roman soon joined them again, setting himself on the armrest next to Gerri to eavesdrop on her conversation with Lily and Elise while keeping one eye on the assistants as Connor tried to teach them how to make cocktails in the kitchen.
An hour later Lily announced that she had to leave - not offering much of an explanation as to why. “Come on, Lils, stay and get drunk with us,” Roman pleaded, reaching out to pull on the woman’s arm as she walked past the sofa. “Firstly, I am not getting drunk with my mother’s significantly younger boyfriend,” she protested, picking her bag up from the coffee table as she undid the lock to dig around for her phone, “And we really have to get back,” Lily explained, glancing once more at the time and then back to Elise who was already waiting for her by the door with their coats. As if they were in a hurry to get somewhere else.
Alice had just enough champagne in her to still have most of her senses working. Why did Lily have to leave so early? Leaving a dinner party at 9pm was like dashing out of the Cheesecake Factory before having dessert. You were guaranteed to miss the best bit. She leaned a little further back on the other sofa as she watched Lily suspiciously. Something was up. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was. The look on Frank’s face as he stood in the doorframe of the balcony doors suggested she wasn’t alone in those particular thoughts.
“I promise we’ll all do brunch or something soon,” Lily tried to compromise, ignoring Roman as he did his best attempt at pouting like a toddler. “Thank you for coming, Lily,” Gerri acknowledged, standing from the sofa to hug her eldest daughter once more.
Roman caught Elise’s eye across the room. A silent conversation passed between them, both understanding that they had a role to play in keeping Gerri and Lily on the path of reconciliation.
“Happy birthday, Momma,” Lily whispered, squeezing Gerri a little tighter before she kissed her cheek and pulled away. “Nancy, send me over the digitals of those photos when you get them developed,” she called over her shoulder as she headed towards the door, waving at the assistants as she left.
“So the ice queen really has a heart after all,” Nick whistled from the single seater nearest the TV as he looked down into his whisky glass. Gerri’s whisky collection was almost as impressive as her vodka stash - though Nick supposed she had likely accumulated it over the years with unwanted gifts for corporate colleagues and hand-me-downs from Logan’s collection that he probably turned his nose up to.
Nick whined as Nancy nipped his calf. “Do you know for a tiny woman you’re incredibly malicious?” he whined, rubbing the skin she had just nipped through his trousers. “I aim to be,” Nancy declared as she took the whisky from his hand, knocking back the rest of the smooth liquor before handing Nick back his empty glass. “I’ll play mother,” Karl announced, making a beeline through the lounge to pick up the Waterford whisky decanter, taking it in turn to top up each glass. “Never thought I’d hear you say that, Karl,” Karolina teased, throwing back the last sip of her whisky before holding out the empty glass for him to refill.
Three hours later and only the four assistants were still standing after the Waystar-hired chauffeurs picked up Frank, Karl, and Karolina to take them home. Roman had walked Connor and Willa out to get their Uber, helping his future sister-in-law get Connor into the backseat in one piece.
By now all four assistants were well and truly tipsy.
“I can’t believe you got my assistants drunk,” Gerri scolded in a hushed whisper as she started filling the dishwasher with some of the empty glasses. “Hey, I don’t show favouritism, I got mine drunk as well,” Roman pointed out, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the kitchen worktop as he watched Gerri bent over in front of the dishwasher. “Stop staring at my ass, Rome,” she called over her shoulder, rearranging the glasses inside the dishwasher before getting up and slamming it shut. “How do you know I’m staring?” Roman asked, popping an olive in his mouth as he leaned against the kitchen island. “Because I know you,” she reminded him, cleaning her hands on the dishcloth nearby before looking through to the lounge where the four assistants were sitting.
“Alice, Nancy, you two can take one of the guest rooms,” Gerri offered, deciding it was wiser than trying to get her two assistants into an Uber. They’d no doubt end up somewhere in SoHo they shouldn’t be at this hour of the night. The last thing they needed was an exposè on the party lifestyle of the so-called Kellman-Roy assistants.
The penthouse had three guest rooms. Gerri’s intention has always been that two of them would become Lily and Madeline’s for when they visited - if they ever visited - and the third would be a traditional guest room. None of them had been slept in yet. Madeline usually chose to stay with friends when she was in town and Lily had her own place. Somewhere. Gerri reckoned it probably made the penthouse look miniature by comparison.
“Are you sure, Ger?” Nancy asked from where she was sitting at Nick’s feet on the floor, a stack of DVDs next to her as she tried to stay upright instead of curling up on the carpet. “We wouldn’t want to ruin your night,” she giggled, hiding her face behind her hands as she felt the room start to spin a little again.
“Of course,” Gerri insisted, watching as Nancy did her best impression of a Labrador as she buried herself into one of the blankets she had managed to steal from under the coffee table.
“We can’t go showing favouritism to the assistants,” Roman protested, looking towards his own assistants who were both looking a little put out. “We have two other guest rooms,” he announced as he clapped his hands together. “I have two other guest rooms,” Gerri corrected him before turning her head towards Nick and Emily, “You two are welcome to use them.”
“Gerri, is this yours?” Emily - the most sober of the four assistants - asked, holding a silk scarf in her hand. It took Gerri a second to place where she had seen it before. “That’s Lily’s. She must have forgotten it,” Gerri sighed, crossing the room to take the scarf from Roman’s assistant, “I’ll drop it over to her tomorrow.”
It was then that Gerri remembered she had no idea where to drop it off. Alice would know Lily’s address - but there was a pang of guilt that ran through her at not even knowing where Lily lived.
“Thank you for letting us stay, Gerri,” Emily smiled at the older woman, stepping forward to hug Gerri. She froze for a moment before patting Emily’s back slowly.
Yep. All four of their assistants were drunk.
“Right, Emily Jane, off to bed,” Roman called from across the room, watching as Emily pulled herself away from Gerri to stumble across the room towards him. “Keep it down you two, these walls don’t look that thick,” she giggled as Roman turned her in the direction of the hallway to go to the first guest room - the one furthest away from the master bedroom.
A few minutes later and the apartment had fallen silent once more. The four assistants had finally packed it in.
“You know, getting those four drunk has really messed up my plans for tonight,” Gerri taunted, heading down the hallway towards the master bedroom as she started to pull down the zipper at the side of her dress - making it clear what those plans had been. The first hint of La Perla sink was enough to send Roman chasing down the hallway after her.
“Can you be quiet?” Roman hissed as he caught up with her, hands reaching out to catch her by the waist, turning her around to look at him. “Roman, I’m not the screamer,” she reminded him with a smirk, poking her index finger into his chest as he snaked his arms around her waist to pull her closer.
“Thank you, though,” Gerri said, fingers playing with the third button of his shirt, undoing it before moving onto the next one. “For what?” He asked, pausing for a moment in his task of getting her closer towards the bedroom door. “For everything,” Gerri shrugged, eyes fixed on her fingers as she kept fiddling with the buttons. “I hate birthdays usually, I haven’t really celebrated one for a very long time,” she sighed, thinking of how she had acknowledged her birthday the year before with nothing more than a martini with Karolina on the balcony. “This one though, well, I rather enjoyed it, all things considered,” she admitted with a smile.
The fact he had managed to fill not only her dining room but also her guest rooms had proven that.
Maybe this was a chance to begin again. Another year older. Another year wiser. But with a drastically different reality from the year before. A line in the sand. A marker in time.
Roman smirked to himself. “Well, it's still your birthday,” he reminded her, once more moving them towards the bedroom door. “Roman, our assistants are in the guest rooms,” Gerri hissed as she bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
Roman knew a challenge when he saw one.
“Your bathroom is pretty soundproof though,” he contemplated, pulling her closer once more to drop his head down to the curve in her neck that had become his favourite resting place. “And I need to shower anyway,” Roman added a moment later, kissing the skin at the slope of her neck as his fingers squeezed tighter into her back. He waited until he felt Gerri’s hands move up his forearms before moving away, having laid his trap.
“Oh, there’s another gift on the bed for you, by the way,” Roman shouted over his shoulder as he walked into the bedroom ahead of her, making a beeline towards the en-suite.
Gerri smirked to herself, shaking her head as she followed him into the bedroom and caught sight of the La Perla box sitting below the pillows on her side of the bed.
Perhaps she didn’t hate birthdays after all.
Notes:
As always, follow the breadcrumbs…
Chapter 14: Death by a Thousand Cuts
Notes:
Y’all know the drill with the word count. I guess I should give a disclaimer that a big chunk of this chapter was written at sea, at several airports, and while I was low-key high on pain meds after possible popping my elbow out again. But y’all should have gotten this chapter over a week ago, so I wanted to get it to you ASAP - while also spreading a little of the pain I’m currently experiencing.
It’s just straight up angst after the first 1,500 words-ish. Kudos to you if you’ve followed the breadcrumbs because this chapter won’t come as a shock to you. If it does, you need to start listening to Taylor Swift and work on your Easter egg hunting. (I still love you, don’t worry, darling).
A special thanks as always to Cara for beta reading this chapter.
Anywho….onto the angst! The mood of this chapter is very much Mitski’s “I Bet On Losing Dogs” if you want something to put on a loop in the background - but with 'The Exit' by Conan Gray for the Lily and Gerri scene.
Chapter Text
Gerri had gotten used to waking up to someone next to her in the bed. It had been a strange phenomenon at the beginning. More than once she had pushed Roman off her because her mind hadn’t fully woken up yet. Usually, she’d wake up first, Roman’s alarm sounding from his phone a few minutes later. That morning they had both slept in, lulled to sleep by the martinis, yet it was Roman who had woken up first.
The squeaking of the bed told her where he was trying to go. The sheets slipped off her chest, moving down the bed with him. “Roman,” Gerri whined, hands grasping at his forearms to stop him going any further down the bed, “Our assistants are on the other side of that wall,” she reminded him as she pushed over the covers, knowing the alcohol would be out of their system by now. Their assistants could be as bad as teenagers - as useful and entertaining as they could be.
Roman groaned, dropping his head down onto her stomach as he settled instead for resting his hands on her outer thighs, fingers hidden under La Perla silk. He thought that was perhaps his favourite thing in the world. The sight of La Perla silk against her milky white skin. It ranked just above seeing her natural curls. “I knew I should’ve put them all up at the hotel across the street,” he complained, relaxing as Gerri’s fingers started circling through his hair. “Go shower, I’ll check to make sure Nancy hasn’t thrown Nick off the balcony,” she suggested, tapping her other fingers against his cheek.
Roman turned his head, pressing a nose against the silk fabric over her stomach before reluctantly releasing her. “We’re picking this up later,” he insisted as he rolled off the bed with a groan, stepping over the crinkled clothes on the floor as he headed towards the en-suite.
Gerri took her time getting ready for the day before making her way out into the kitchen. She finally left the bedroom when the sound of Roman singing all six minutes of Bohemian Rhapsody for the second time started giving her a headache. “Ah, you’re alive,” she greeted Alice as the younger blonde came into sight. Her first assistant had sat herself up at the kitchen island with a mug of coffee and a pancake - probably the only two things they had in the kitchen other than leftovers from the night before.
“Gerri, I am like so unbelievably embarrassed,” Alice cringed, shaking her head as she set her coffee mug down, the events of the night before coming back to her in waves.. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Alice,” Gerri assured her with a smile, walking around the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine after setting her cup into the slot. “Did Nick and Nancy kill each other though?” she asked over her shoulder as she opened the fridge in search of the milk.
“I’m afraid our favourite sleuth is yet to push Mr. Carter into the Hudson,” Alice chuckled, feeling better now she knew that she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of her boss. “The other three are just getting themselves together, then we’ll be out of your hair for the rest of the weekend. So you can prep for that trip to see Matsson on Monday and then it’ll be madness with all the RECNY ball prep after that,” she explained before downing the rest of her coffee.
Gerri nodded, though she wanted to avoid thinking about anything to do with the Matsson trip and the RECNY ball for as long as she could. One of them was bad enough, having to endure both within a few days of each other would test her will power. “Do you have your dress sorted yet?” she asked, wanting to distract herself from thoughts of her own RECNY ball planning. “Yep, we all went the other week and got dresses. It’s like going to prom except we’ll all be working,” the assistant replied, having treated herself to a cocktail dress in one of the semi-annual sales. The bonus Gerri had given them a few weeks ago had helped pay for it.
Gerri took the first sip of her coffee as she looked back over at the silk scarf that was folded on the kitchen island. “Alice, I need help with something,” she started, walking around to sit on one of the bar stools across from the younger woman. “Where are we burying the body?” Alice asked without skipping a beat. “Not that,” Gerri chuckled, though she had no doubt that Alice would have willingly helped her hide a body if the need ever presented itself. “Oh, I thought you had finally done him in,” Alice sighed, the disappointment evident as she took the last bite of her pancake before carrying her dishes towards the sink and dishwasher. “Roman?” Gerri asked, raising an eyebrow over her coffee mug. “Logan,” Alice replied with a smirk as she bent down to put the dishes into the machine.
Gerri reached out to pick up the silk scarf from where she had left it the night before. She knew it was Hermes without looking at the label. Gerri opened up the scarf to get a better look at the print across the silk. Lily’s perfume was still on it. Armani’s ‘ Si’ perfume, if her senses had picked up the right floral notes. She looked up to see Alice waiting for her by the side of the island.
“Do you have Lily’s address? I want to bring this scarf back over to her but I just realised I don’t…” Gerri paused as she thought of how ridiculous of a statement it was. She didn’t even know where her eldest daughter lived. Other than the fact it was somewhere with Elise in New York. “I’ve got it. I can text it to you,” Alice revealed, hesitating for a moment before taking out her phone. “How do you have it?” Gerri asked, knowing the pair had only ever been in the same room together a handful of times. “It’s my job to know everything, Ger,” Alice shrugged, scrolling through her phone in search of Lily’s address.
Gerri raised an eyebrow at that, not satisfied by her assistant’s response. “You’ll understand when you see the place,” Alice explained, eyes fixed on her phone screen as she texted the address to her boss. “I’ve also had to send invites to Elise for Waystar functions,” she added a moment later, the explanation enough to satisfy Gerri for now. “I’m going to go and get the other three so we can get out of your hair,” Alice announced, heading back down the hallway towards the guest rooms. “I’ll text you on Sunday night with the details for the flight out to see Matsson on Monday morning,” she added before disappearing into the bedroom she and Nancy had shared the night before.
The Matsson trip. Gerri could sense that it was going to be a disaster.
“Did you kick the assistants out?” Roman asked when he appeared ten minutes later, shaking his hand through his wet hair. He walked across the lounge towards the kitchen wearing one of the white dressing gowns Gerri had ‘accidentally’ nicked from the Four Seasons. “Alice has taken them out for breakfast to revive them all,” Gerri explained as she shrugged into her blazer, watching as Roman opened the fridge to make himself brunch. “I’m going to see Lily to bring her scarf back to her,” she added, holding the folded Hermes scarf up in her hand.
“Horus and I will just chill here then,” Roman announced from behind the fridge door as he pulled out a pint of buttermilk and some eggs to make himself pancakes. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but it shouldn’t be too long,” Gerri offered, doing up the clasp of her watch as she headed across the lounge towards the kitchen where the scarf was folded on the island counter. “Do not go freeing the tortoise, he is happy where he is,” she warned with a pointed expression, having already caught Horus roaming freely around the penthouse on more than one occasion in the last week.
Roman shrugged as he set the ingredients next to the stove top, moving around the kitchen as though it was his own apartment. “I was thinking of taking him out to see the world,” he declared, as if offering to take a dog for a walk. But Horus would outlive any dog - and probably both of them.
“Leave Horus alone, he’s not a puppy,” Gerri warned as she hit send on her text message to Fredrick to let him know she was heading down. “Can’t make any promises, Gerri,” Roman insisted, though he wasn’t planning on breaking Horus out of the penthouse just yet. His day of freedom would come at another time. Gerri stepped into her heels before heading down the hallway. “I’ll text you when I’m heading home,” she called over her shoulder.
Roman smiled to himself as the penthouse door shut behind Gerri.
Home.
That sounded nice. He could get used to that.
“I’m sorry for calling you on a Saturday, Fredrick,” Gerri greeted the driver as she slipped into the back seat of the Aston Martin. “No trouble at all, Ma’am, trust me - Mr. Roy pays me more than enough to cover weekend trips,” the chauffeur assured her as the SUV pulled away from the penthouse and through the streets of Manhattan.
A few minutes later the car rolled to a stop outside a four story townhouse on East 73rd Street. The stone facade of the house gave it a distinctly European feel with its framed detailing around the double wooden doors with glass panelling at the entrance. It was easily twice the size that the brownstone had been. That would be the Ward money at work.
“Your daughter lives here?” Fredrick asked with a low whistle as he killed the engine, parking right in front of the four little stone steps leading up to the entrance. “You must visit all the time,” he assumed, given that there was less than a ten minute drive between the penthouse and townhouse.
Gerri bit at the skin on the side of her thumb as she leaned back further in her seat. She couldn’t tell him it was the first time she had ever visited - or the fact she had no idea it was so close until less than an hour ago.
“She must have married well, Ma’am,” he added, making Gerri ponder a thought she had rolling around in the back of her head about Elise and Lily.
“I shouldn’t be too long, Fredrick, I’ll text you if I am and you can come back for me later,” she suggested, having no idea whether Lily would even be at home or how long she would be welcomed in the woman’s home for.
Gerri headed up the stone steps that led up to the two black doors with a number “13” medallion above a gold lion head door knocker on the left-hand one. For a moment it felt as though the lion’s black eyes were following her as she looked around before lifting the handle and knocking three times.
Lily clearly hadn’t been expecting visitors. Gone were the Manolo heels and this season’s Loewe dresses. Her daughter greeted her at the door in casual black yoga bottoms and an oversized Yale sweatshirt, hair pulled back into a ponytail. The sweatshirt must have been Elise’s but it reminded her of the one Baird had that was still at the back of her closet somewhere. It felt a little like seeing an echo of Lily as a teenager again without the Condé Nast persona and the bitterness of the last decade.
“Hi, Lily,” Gerri greeted, folding the silk scarf over in her hands. “Mom?” Lily questioned, glancing out onto the street behind her as if expecting Roman or someone else to be there with her. “You forgot your scarf,” Gerri offered by way of explanation for her sudden appearance, handing the scarf over to her daughter.
Lily visibly hesitated for a moment, one hand gripping the side of the door. She could hardly snatch the scarf and slam the door shut in her mother’s face. That would have been the easier option - all things considered. It would have kept the reality of life beyond the door hidden from Gerri. She reached out her hand to take the silk scarf but she didn’t open the door any further.
“Can I come in?” Gerri asked, watching for the first time in Lily’s life as the younger woman took on the expression of a deer in headlights.
Opening the door and inviting Gerri into the townhouse meant letting her into her private life. Letting her see all of it. See beyond the half truths and lies Lily had been telling her for the last five years.
Lily took a breath before slowly pulling the door back until it was fully open, giving Gerri her first proper look inside the lavish townhouse. There was a long corridor with mahogany flooring that seemed to lead off into several rooms with a large spiral staircase to the right side, making it evident that they owned all four floors of the building.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Lily asked, stepping to the side to let her mother in. Gerri could practically feel the tension radiating off her eldest daughter. “Tea would be lovely,” she smiled, eyes looking from one wall to the next as she took in the framed artwork on either side as she followed Lily down the hallway. They must be Elise’s as they were too modern for Lily’s taste.
Lily pulled her phone from her pocket, fingers tapping against the screen for a moment before she came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. There was an open-plan room on either side, the space left free flowing with large archways instead of closed doors. The colour schemes were traditional - exposed wood with earth tones and rich neutrals. One room looked to be a lounge while the other posed as more of an entertainment space. They stood in the middle of the hallway that acted as a would-be bridge between the two open planned rooms.
“Make yourself at home, I’ll just be in the kitchen,” Lily hesitated, knowing what would inevitably happen next. Her mother would find a thread to pull that would unwind the web of half-truths and convenient excuses she had been feeding the woman for years.
Gerri stayed standing in the middle of the hallway for a moment as Lily disappeared off towards the kitchen. She turned to the left, stepping into the lounge and smiling as she spotted the record player in the corner. The stack of vinyls next to it suggested that Elise and Lily had used it after the party last night.
She recognised the familiar cardboard cover of several Maria Callas records and a well-worn cover of The King and I amongst the stack of vinyls. Lily’s tastes hadn’t changed much from what she had listened to as a teenager.
Gerri froze when the next item came into her line of sight just a few inches away from the record player. A pair of little Mary Janes were tucked neatly by the side of the sofa. A shiny black pair like the ones Lily had worn as a little girl.
Did a child live here? A quick glance around the room brought other items into view. All children’s items. Little plush teddy bears, picture books, and Disney Princess dolls.
But Lily didn’t have a child. She would know if Lily had a child - wouldn’t she ?
Her heart started beating in her ears.
Gerri stepped forward, walking further into the lounge and towards the photos near the piano. She had never seen any of the ones of Lily before - laughing with a martini in hand, standing on the beach with her arms wrapped around Elise, smirking as the wind lifted the other woman’s hair, blocking her face from being fully in view. They all painted a picture of a life Gerri had known nothing about until a few weeks ago.
The next one stopped her heart mid-beat, the room slowed down as the stars once more slipped between her fingers. A cut opened somewhere in her heart above the aorta. The first of a thousand little cuts that started to form one right after the other.
The first photo showed Lily standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in a short blue dress, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders as she grinned at the camera. On her hip was a little girl with a tiny beret on her head in a matching dress, clutching an elephant teddy in one arm, the other wrapped around Lily’s neck.
She took in the sight of the little girl’s face (the assumed owner of the Mary Janes), trying to draw out even the faintest similarity to Lily at that age.
The two heads of blonde hair were the first thing that caught her eye. Though the little girl’s curls were darker than Lily’s had ever been. Her hair looked as though it might turn brown as she got older. The little girl’s eyes were a deeper green than Lily’s, but with the same dimple in her cheeks.
It didn’t prove or disprove the theory that was forming itself in Gerri’s head.
The photo in the next frame showed Lily cradling a bundle of cashmere blankets in her arm, a fuzz of little blonde hairs barely visible as the woman beamed down at the baby in her arms. Lily looked a little younger than she did now, as if the photo was taken only a handful of years ago.
And the world seemed to fall off its axis again. The next cut went deeper, the knife twisting as it came out.
Gerri’s eyes scanned over the photo frames in search of a more recent picture. This one looked as though it had only been taken a few weeks ago. Lily, Elise, and the little girl at the beach, the girl’s face beaming up beneath a gigantic sun hat that Gerri imagined she had stolen off her mother’s head. She picked up the frame, bringing it into the light in the centre of the room, her eyes fixed on the little face staring back at her.
Was that little girl her grandchild? She certainly looked enough like Lily to pass for being a Kellman. The more she stared at the photos, the more Lily’s features blurred with those of the little girl.
“That’s Selina,” Lily announced, her voice cutting through the silence that had started to eat away at Gerri’s soul.
Lily hadn’t been away making tea. She had been waiting down the hallway for Gerri to make her discovery.
“Is she…” Gerri paused, not able to form the words on her tongue. The very idea of it triggered another fault line through her heart. Lily had hidden a child from her - but was the little girl her child? Lily’s flesh and blood and Gerri’s grandchild.
Baird’s grandchild.
There had been an entire year where she had hardly laid eyes on Lily. She could count on both hands the number of times she had seen Lily in the last five years. It wouldn’t have been hard to disguise a pregnancy or keep it from her entirely.
Did Madeline know? Had the girls kept the existence of her granddaughter from her? Madeline and Lily had always been each other’s secret keepers, whether that meant covering for the other when they sneaked out at night or seemingly concealing the existence of a child. Of course, Madeline knew. That cut stung more than the one before. As though the knife was laced with sugar to make the sting worse.
“Selina is my step-daughter. I suppose that’s the correct terminology,” Lily explained, though she remained fixed to her spot at the top of the step leading into the lounge.
The guiding star stood once more out of Gerri’s reach. Gazing down at her with a luminosity she could never herself possess. Motherhood (evidently) suited Lily.
It had never suited her.
“It doesn’t sound like it’s the correct terminology as far as you’re concerned,” Gerri observed, her grip tightening on the silver photo frame in her hand. Lily’s shoulders straightened as she broke eye contact with Gerri, her focus shifting to the American Girl doll sitting on top of a little toy chest. “No, she’s my daughter as far as anyone is concerned,” Lily insisted, the defensiveness evident in her tone as she finally took a step into the lounge. She maintained her distance as she walked over to pick up the doll, returning it to one of the bookshelves next to the mantle.
Geri felt more like an intruder in a sacred temple with each passing ‘ tick tock’ of the grandfather clock hanging on the wall behind her..
“Elise had already started looking to adopt before we started dating,” Lily explained, well aware of the conclusion her mother likely rushed to when she saw the photographs. The same conclusions everyone else did upon seeing her daughter’s blonde hair and green eyes. That Selina was a Kellman through and through. That Lily had been cruel enough to go through an entire pregnancy and the first four years of raising a child without breathing a word of the girl’s existence to Gerri.
Not even she was that unjust.
Lily would have told her mother. She believed that she would have. But would she tell her now? Lily couldn’t picture herself knocking on her mother’s door to announce that Selina would be getting a sibling. Motherhood had given her a new perspective on things since the day Selina had come into her life.
“So you’ve been there from the beginning,” Gerri paused, the pieces of the puzzle continuing to come together slowly but surely.
Selina was still her granddaughter. Regardless of Lily’s attempts at a politician's answer.
“From the day Elise brought Selina home from the hospital,” Lily revealed, making Gerri assume she had been living in the lavish townhouse for at least the last four years. If Gerri’s assumptions about the girl’s age were correct, that was.
Four years. Four years of missed birthdays, holiday seasons, Easter egg rolls and almost every “first” imaginable.
Gerri looked back down at the photograph in her hand. How had she never suspected anything? Had she shown such little interest in her eldest daughter that the woman had been able to hide the girl from her for this long?
All because of Waystar Royco and Logan Roy.
And her own failure as a mother.
She was now already a certified failure as a grandmother.
“Can I - can I meet her?” Gerri hesitated, her heart heavy in her chest as her mind struggled to process everything. Meeting the little girl would make everything seem real - would make the pain in her chest threaten to drag her under.
Lily froze for a moment, her back towards Gerri as she put the last of the dolls inside the pink toy chest, closing the lid. Gerri could just about make out the little “S.K.W” initials on the side of the toy box in a ballerina pink with little roses for dots between the letters.
“Maybe someday,” Lily offered, her guard going up like a lioness spotting a hyena circling just beyond the pridelands. She turned to face her mother once more.
The answer didn’t shock Gerri. Lily had hidden Selina in the shadows to protect her from the monsters that had haunted her own childhood - to protect Selina from the cruelty of the men who had taken her father from her. Lily would only grant her access to the girl on her own terms. She could imagine what such terms would entail. They’d almost certainly require some sort of distance from Waystar and Logan Roy.
But what had she done to deserve this?
What had she done to deserve to be locked out of Lily’s life? Robbed of the chance to know her own granddaughter.
Gerri had never been someone to dream of retirement and quiet years spent chasing after grandchildren in little ballet slippers and soccer kits.
But she would have liked the choice.
Would have relished seeing Lily with a daughter of her own. Would have made a point in moving heaven and Earth to get to every ballet recital and birthday party possible. Would have used her granddaughter to repent for her failures as a mother. The same failures she was experiencing the consequences of now.
Lily took the framed picture from Gerri’s hands, carrying it to the other side of the room and placing it on the mantle above the fireplace. “Where is she now?” Gerri asked, eyes flickering to the ceiling as she listened out for the sound of little feet. The girl could be playing upstairs for all she knew.
“At her ballet class, Elise takes her to it,” Lily explained, busying herself by fluffing the cushions on one of the nearby sofas. Clearly this wasn’t going to be a productive conversation.
“You did ballet,” Gerri thought aloud, her mind imagining Lily taking the girl to get her first ballet slippersthe same way she and Baird had done with her at that age. Elise’s gift of pointe shoes made more sense now.
“I take Selina during the week to a Mommy and Me class then Elise takes her on a Saturday for her solo lessons,” Lily explained, clasping her hands in front of her as she stood across the room, the coffee table acting as a barrier between the two warring sides.
Gerri had never done a “mommy and me” class with either of her daughters. Was that where she had gone wrong? By swapping ballet classes for boardroom meetings and walks around the park for hurried phone calls on the tarmac between plane journeys.
“And the name Selina?” she asked but Gerri already knew the answer. Elise and Lily had clearly been close enough for Lily to name the woman’s adoptive daughter. That meant their relationship had been serious for at least the last four years.
Gerri pondered for a moment if the child was the only thing her daughter was keeping from her. The little pearl rolled around in her mind once more, momentarily distracting her.
Lily stopped her fidgeting, holding one of her daughter’s teddy bears in her hand as she turned her head to look at her mother. “For the moon and the stars,” she answered, the little plush teddy bear held against her chest.
Gerri thought back to the locket she had seen Lily wearing at the party. The same one Lily had been wearing every time she’d seen her for the last four years, but that she had only looked at properly the night before.
The little moon and the stars. That had been for Selina.
Perhaps the star had been for Lily though. Elise as the flower between the two bringing the moon and the stars together. She has seen the same necklace clearly around Lily’s neck in another picture of her and Selina. It was the same necklace she had noticed that day at brunch several weeks earlier.
The clues had been right under her nose this entire time. How could she have been so blind?
Her eyes shifted back to the photograph nearest her. Another of Lily and Selina. Neither of them were looking at the camera, both distracted by the little silver rattle Lily was shaking in the toddler’s face.
“I can’t believe you would do this, Lily,” Gerri whispered, hands clutching onto the photo frame tight enough for her knuckles to turn white.
“Do this to me,” she wanted to add, but thought better of it. Gerri was self-aware enough to know she had been far from being ‘Mother of the Year’. But she had never even been given the opportunity to be a grandmother. Lily had never given her the chance - but perhaps she had never deserved one in the first place.
Every breath she took started to sting a little more than the last. As if someone was poking tiny cuts into her chest - drawing stars across her heart with a knife that seemed to cut a little deeper every time.
Lily put the bear down into the sofa, crossing the room towards Gerri once more. “No, Mother, I did what you should have done,” she argued, clearly having run this very conservation through her head a dozen times before. As if she always knew her mother would one day find out. The only thing that shocked Lily was that it had taken her this long to do so.
“Which is what?” Gerri quizzed, heart pounding in her ears as she waited for the inevitable blow. The first swing of the executor’s axe as they prepared to carry out their justice. “I’ve kept my daughter as far away from that toxic world as possible,” Lily insisted, her mother’s ignorance towards the girl’s existence was proof enough of that. “I did everything I -“ Gerri began to protest, but her daughter cut her off with a flick of her wrist.
“Mom, I know those lies help you sleep better at night, but you have to face the truth,” Lily challenged, glancing over Gerri’s shoulder towards the open window expectantly, a sense of dread filling her with every passing minute. “The truth?” Geri asked, taking a step closer to her daughter as she folded her arms defensively.
Lily changed her tactic, focusing on another impossible star in that glimmering night sky.
“Where is Madeline right now?” She asked, her words bitter as they cut through her mother’s porcelain skin.
Gerri grew silent like a guilty criminal in the dock, listening to their crimes being listed back to them.
She didn’t know. She was a mother who didn’t know what country one daughter was in and hadn’t known that the other was living ten minutes down the street.
What sort of mother did that make her?
Lily pursed her lips as she accepted her victory. “Exactly, you can’t answer because you don’t know. You don’t even know what country your daughter is in,” she reminded the older woman. It had always been Lily who had kept tabs on the youngest Kellman girl, whether it was her after school classes at Dalton or the latest country she was off exploring.
“The bravest thing we can do right now is stare the truth in the face,” Lily continued, glancing at the Grandfather clock as her phone sat silently in her pocket. “And what is that?” Gerri asked, preparing herself for another direct hit.
Lily twisted the aquamarine ring on her finger, glancing at the photograph her mother had been holding a few moments earlier.
“The only thing we have in common is a face, a surname, and the fact we both live in New York,” she declared, her voice taking on a coldness Gerri had never heard from it before. The chess board turned once more as another piece was swiped off it. Lily had the high ground.
“That’s not fair, Lily,” Gerri protested, heart pounding in her chest as she felt her lip start to quiver. The first sign that the tears were about to fall. She could feel them stabbing at the side of her eyelids, threatening to fall with every slash of Lily’s little screwdriver.
“You didn’t even realise you have a granddaughter. That’s how much attention you pay your own family,” Lily continued. Lady Justice with her Medusa shield and scales, “I didn’t keep Selina from you, Mama. You kept yourself from Selina - and from me as well.”
More than once Lily had imagined what it would be like for her mother to rock up someday and apologise. Perhaps on her birthday, maybe even at Christmas, or any of the other 363 days in any of the years of the past decade.
Lily thought better than to tell her mother of the time she had walked right past her and Selina in Bloomingdale’s before Christmas. When Selina was still small enough to be worn in a baby carrier on her chest, half hidden under Lily’s Canada Goose coat. Alice had been running after Gerri, obviously helping the woman with her Christmas shopping as they multitasked with some Waystar work at the same time.
She had stood there - feet glued to the floor of the jewellery department as she waited. And waited. And waited again for her mother to turn to look at her. All she had to do was lift her head and look across the counter to see them standing there. To see her daughter and grandchild staring back at her.
Part of Lily had wanted her to see them.
Alice had seen her though. Lily still didn’t know if the assistant had fully recognised her in the circumstances but Alice had seen her.
But clearly Alice had never voiced her suspicions, if she had them, to Gerri.
“And let me guess, Alice gave you my address?” She asked as she began to pace in front of the coffee table. Lily managed to bite back the temptation to call Alice her “replacement”. The blonde with the same general features and in the right age range to pass for being a third Kellman daughter.
“Well, seeing as you’ve never given it to me,” Gerri hissed as she struggled to keep her chin steady, biting down on one side of her lip. The tears were starting to pool now. They were only one more twist of the screwdriver away from falling. “I don’t tend to invite the Roys and their associates into my home,” Lily announced, hands on her hip as she tried not to look at her mother.
She couldn’t be sympathetic to her now. Gerri needed to hear this. Needed to know that these were the consequences of her own actions.
“That’s rich considering who you’ve built a family with,” Gerri snorted, trying to blink back the tears as she fixed her glasses on the bridge of her nose. There was a certain irony in Lily finding a partner in someone like Elise Ward. She had the same family background as Roman and the two age gaps were practically the same. Yet Lily cried foul towards one family and built herself a safe haven with the other.
Lily saw straight through the insinuation. “Elise’s family is different from the Roys. They actually are a family. There’s none of this bullshit fighting over succession,” she snapped, still trying to work out in her head where Roman fitted in the Roy family succession planning. He seemed to be the playboy youngest boy who had been put on the straight and narrow. Another Roy given a boost up the ladder by stepping on the neck of a Kellman. “My family isn’t like yours,” she added, having long ago discovered that she enjoyed the mundane domesticity of a family life that wasn’t directed by a herd of nannies and assistants.
“I’m not a Roy,” Gerri protested, inferring that as the insult disguised under Lily’s sweet as honey voice. She was drawing a line in the sand. Lily was a Kellman (a Kellman-Ward, if Gerri had to put a bet on it) and Gerri was a Roy in her daughter’s eyes.
“You’ve been a Roy as long as you’ve been a Kellman. Even more so now,” Lily retorted as she took a step forward, inching closer to Gerri as she stepped around the coffee table. “What is that meant to mean?” Gerri questioned, although she already knew the answer. “Where is this thing with Roman going?” Lily levelled, having finally gotten to the question that had been eating away at her since the night before.
It was one thing to be told her mother was in a relationship with Roman - it was another thing entirely to see it with her own eyes. Roman was (though it pained her to admit) good for her mother. And that only made all of this even more complicated.
“Lily,” Gerri warned, her walls going up once more as she set the framed photograph down. “Mama, I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy. But I am not bringing my child into that world. Logan - if he ever knew about her - would use Selina against you the same way he used Madeline and I against you and Dad,” Lily insisted, her chin wobbling as she pressed the tips of her acrylic nails into the porcelain skin on her arms - hard enough to leave little marks behind.
Gerri knew that Lily was right.
How many times had she hidden her children out of Logan’s view? Done everything she could to make him forget she had two daughters at home. It was one thing to be someone’s wife. That was normal. That was accepted. That was desired even. It proved you were desirable as a woman.
It was another to be someone’s mother. That was a reminder of her womanhood - of something so often perceived as a weakness by men. Gerri had gone back to work within a few weeks of having each of her daughters. She had been out of the office for a shorter time than the average summer vacation any of the male executives would have taken those years.
Anything to hide away her femininity. Gerri had shied away from anything that made her seem “maternal” in the Waystar world. That was why there had never been a photograph of either of her daughters in her office.
She could only imagine Logan’s reaction to her being a grandmother. He’d find a way to use it to undermine her position. Logan would have her packed off and put in a retirement home as if she wasn’t twenty years his junior.
“So you’re telling me that I have to choose,” Gerri concluded, red nails digging into her arms as she held Lily’s eye contact. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just setting the rules of engagement,” Lily insisted, determined to remain in control of the situation. The Roys didn’t control her life anymore - and that included her Mother.
“I don’t want that man - or frankly, anyone from that family - near my daughter,” she added, though part of her suspected that was about to become even more challenging. Lily thought back to the phone call with Shiv. The offer to make her VP of Advertising. An eleventh-hour prayer designed to catch her mother out and sink her as CEO. Roman had seen through the offer the same way that she had.
“Look, I agree Roman might be different, but he’s still a Roy and they will throw you under the bus the second they get the chance,” Lily reminded her, her mind going back to watching the footage of her mother testifying in D.C. over the cruises scandal. Her mother had always known exactly where to put her foot for a safe landing - but that luck could run out at any time.
Gerri shook her head slowly, pressing her lips together as she put her hands on her hip. “I’m CEO, Lily,” she argued half-heartedly, knowing that she was already beat. “You’re interim CEO, Mother, and only because it served Logan Roy’s interests to give you that job,” her daughter corrected her with all the skills of someone who had been raised by not one but two General Counsels.
“Maybe you can find a way. Maybe you can have it all,” Lily shrugged, though she suspected her mother was playing a losing game. The Roys demanded a sacrifice to exist within their orbit - and for too long that sacrifice had been their relationship. The Kellmans always came second to the Roys. “But I have to protect my daughter,” she circled back once more to the point of the matter.
Gerri’s voice dropped down another octave, her throat drying as she folded her arms once more. “So I can’t see my own granddaughter, then?” she asked with a shrug, wondering if this was her punishment for almost thirty years of failed parenthood.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Lily corrected her, once more thinking of how close Gerri had come to seeing Selina as a baby. How different would things be now if her mother had simply looked up at her that day? If she had torn her eyes from the jewellery cabinet to look at a greater treasure. “That’s a decision for you to make,” she concluded, putting it all into her mother’s hands.
Let fate decide the rest.
Gerri bit down harder on her lip with enough tension that it felt as though it might start bleeding. But she refused to cry in front of Lily. “I need to go,” she announced, hands smoothing out non-existent creases on the front of her dress as she made a beeline out of the room.
Gerri paused on the step that led from the lounge into the hallway as another thought struck her. “Lily, you know I love you, don’t you?” She asked, turning to look at her eldest daughter. Part of her wondered when the last time was that she had told Lily she loved her. It could very well have been after Baird’s funeral. Did her daughter think she was that much of a monster? That she didn’t love her.
For a moment - one brief moment - Lily hesitated. It caused another cut, the deepest yet, to form. Lily thought she was lying.
“I know, Mom,” she replied, knowing it was her turn to tell the nice lie that would help her mother sleep at night.
Gerri looked back over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway, leaving her daughter in the shadows of the lounge like the stars as they floated off just before dawn.
Lily turned the aquamarine ring on her right hand, waiting for the door to shut behind her mother before switching the ring back to her left hand. Her mother would know soon enough - if she hadn’t already put two and two together. She glanced once more at the grandfather clock as she moved towards the window facing out onto the street, hoping to avoid something that now seemed inevitable.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?” Fredrick asked, the concern evident in his voice as he looked at Gerri through the rear view mirror. She had slammed the car door with more force than usual, throwing her blazer off and onto the empty seat next to her.
Gerri opened her mouth to speak, but paused as she watched a black Range Rover pull in ahead of them on the opposite side of the street. “Fredrick, wait a minute, would you?” she requested before the man could turn on the engine, her fingers curling around the door handle as she waited with baited breath. The personalised number plate meant that the car could only belong to one person. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to step out of the car.
The driver’s door of the Range Rover opened and Elise appeared with her usual minimalistic outfit. An oversized pair of sunglasses and a black baseball cap casted a shadow over her face. Elise walked around the car to open the back door on the left hand side and Gerri saw her for the first time as the door opened to reveal the car’s tan leather interior.
Selina.
The blonde curls struck her first - tied back with a little pink ribbon the same way she had done Lily’s hair at that age. She carried her ballet slippers in one hand and a little plush elephant in the other as Elise lifted her out of the car and set her down on the sidewalk.
That cut hurt the most.
Gerri cleared her throat as the first tear threatened to fall, her chin quivering as she tried to catch her breath. “Let’s go, Fredrick,” she instructed, her voice sharper than she had intended it to be as the older man started the engine.
The car pulled out onto the road as the front door of the townhouse opened. Lily held her arms out to catch Selina as the girl jumped up the stone steps towards the woman. Gerri felt the tears stabbing at the corner of her eyes as she looked away, an intruder watching a scene she was never meant to witness.
Had it all been worth it? Years of missed opportunities and fractured relationships and for what? For a career spent looking for legal loopholes to build Logan Roy’s media empire. Nothing made sense anymore as it all began to blur into one. It all seemed ridiculous now. Her job. Her relationship with Roman. The way she had treated her own daughters.
Everything spiralled into one ungodly mess in her head as she leaned back against the curved leather of the seat.
This had to end.
Gerri had made Fredrick drive around half of Manhattan and New York itself - not caring where they went. The drive gave her the chance to work through everything in her head. To be alone with her thoughts for the first time in months. Fredrick didn’t drive back to the penthouse until the night had rolled in and the stars glowed in the sky. Gerri now pictured another person amongst that starry night sky.
The dark clouds were circling overhead, the stars disappearing as the storm front rolled in as Gerri got out of the car and made a beeline for the elevator to the penthouse.
Roman knew something was wrong by the slamming of the front door. Gerri didn’t go around slamming doors. She had told him months ago that it was a “ childish habit” that made the person (usually Logan or Kendall) look like a toddler throwing a tantrum. She kicked her heels off, instead of tucking them under the coat rack like she always did. Her blazer ended up in a ball on top of her heels instead of sitting neatly on the coat rack.
Something had gone wrong at Lily’s.
“So, I broke Horus out of his little jail. Took the tortoise to the Starbucks down the street,” Roman called over his shoulder by way of greeting as he watched Gerri make a beeline towards the kitchen.
No reaction.
Roman turned himself on the sofa so that he was facing her. “Might have given him food poisoning with all that whipped cream,” he joked, trying to force a laugh as he looked for any sign that she had heard what he had said.
Still no reaction.
Roman wondered if Gerri was going through some form of shell shock. Fredrick had texted him to say something had happened at Lily’s and that Gerri was visibly shaken. He had put it down to another round of Kellman vs. Kellman. A sparring contest where no one ever really won, but this felt different. As if he was experiencing the aftershock of an earthquake he had managed to sleep through. Coming onto the scene in the aftermath of the disaster.
“Gerri?” he called, setting his phone down as he got up from the sofa, walking towards the other side of the kitchen island. No response. Her eyes were still fixed on the marble, the gears turning in her head as she kept thinking back to what she had decided in the car. “Gerri-berry? G-Spot,” he said, but neither nickname received even a flash of recognition. Had Gerri knocked her head on something and suddenly gone mute? This wasn’t like her. She always had something to say.
“Gerri?” Roman tried once more, his voice softer now as he reached across to put his hand on her forearm, giving her a gentle shake.
She finally looked up at him, both hands gripping the side of the island’s marble countertop. It was then that Roman saw how bloodshot her eyes were. Gerri had been crying, even he could see that. Her nose was red as well, as if she had been sobbing for several hours. That explained the never-ending car journey and why she had been gone all day.
“Do you know I have a grandchild?” Gerri questioned, detonating the latest bombshell to hit the Kellman residence before the room went silent enough to hear a pin drop.
What had she just said?
There was no way that could be true. He never pictured Gerri as a grandmother - let alone being one now. But if she had a grandchild that meant that Lily…
The pieces were slowly starting to come together. Roman walked around the island towards her, trying to piece everything together in his head. “You have a what, now?” he asked, stopping in front of her as he watched her blink her eyes in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.
Gerri’s relationship with Lily was complicated at best - but he couldn’t imagine her hiding a pregnancy and a child from her mother.
“Well - I don’t know if you can call her that, she’s not Lily’s, but she is Lily’s. Her step-daughter or whatever bullshit term Lily uses for the political correctness of it all. But I have a granddaughter, Rome, that I didn’t even know about, that’s how horrible of a person I am” she cried, side stepping around him as she walked towards the lounge, suddenly feeling as though the walls of the apartment were starting to close in on her.
Roman watched as Gerri paced barefoot in front of him, hands locked to her hips as though she might double over from the pain of her heart being ripped out again. As if someone was stabbing her a thousand times with a little pen knife. Over and over again. Targeting the same spots to deepen the cuts where they hurt the most.
“Fucking hell,” Roman breathed under his breath, stepping back into the lounge to swiped two martini glasses from the bar cart before he started fixing her a drink. If anytime called for a very strong martini, it was now. “How did you find out?” he gently prodded, opening the Belvedere lid as he started to make her drink. It gave him something to do instead of joining Gerri in her pacing. Something to focus his thoughts on.
“I found a picture in Lily’s house - well, I found the girl’s shoes first. Who knew it would take me showing up on Lily’s doorstep to discover I have a granddaughter,” Gerri croaked, her voice still drying from all the crying she had done before. She couldn’t even stop herself from crying in front of Roman now. Not even he was in her home, as if he was another part of the furniture.
“It’s a girl,” Roman observed, trying to keep her talking to work out what - if anything - he could do to help her. “What’s her name?” he asked, adding the olives to the martini before he picked up the glass to carry it across the lounge towards Gerri. “Selina,” Gerri revealed after a pause, eyes fixed on the ground as she reached out to take the martini. The vodka burnt the back of her throat, the sensation making her forget her pain for a moment. It gave her mind something else to focus on for a brief second. She tipped back the martini glass as she took another long sip, turning her back to Roman as she moved towards the window. The clouds had gotten darker, the rain starting to pitter patter against the tall windows as the wind picked up, a wail starting to echo into the room.
The years of private tutoring finally paid off when Roman realised the significance of the name a moment later as he looked out into the pitch dark of the night. He thought back to the painting at the MoMA. The Starry Night.
Everything was starting to make sense now.
“How old is she?” Roman asked, one hand curling around the back of his neck as he stood awkwardly behind Gerri as she nursed her martini. He could already tell that most of it was already gone. His own sat unnoticed on the kitchen counter. Gerri would probably need it in a minute. “I don’t know, she’s maybe three or four, when I saw that picture –” Gerri paused, the sharp intake of breath and the tensing of her shoulders told Roman she was struggling to keep everything at bay.
“I genuinely thought my own daughter had a child without telling me,” she whispered, her voice now hoarse as he creeped closer towards her to hear better. Roman doubted that a specific path to motherhood would have made any difference to Lily’s actions. “What type of a mother does that make me, Rome?” Gerri questioned as she put the empty martini glass down onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. She already knew the answer to that.
It made her no better than Caroline. That was what Gerri wanted to say. Even Shiv would have told her mother. Caroline (for all her other failings) had actually made a little effort. She hadn’t been a career-driven mother who spent her time getting white collar criminals off the hook instead of organising sleepovers and attending ballet recitals. Caroline had at least tried to get her children to spend the holidays with her.
“Well, it actually makes you a GILF,” Roman joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, folding his arms as he stepped towards her, coming to stand at her side. “Roman! That’s not helping right now,” Gerri scolded, eyes red as her pupils dilated, glaring at the man beside her as if she had just been burnt by something - flinching as if another cut was about to form. She picked up the empty martini glass and headed towards the kitchen. “God, I’m sleeping with a grandmother - hot,” Roman tried again, smirking at her as he enjoyed the view of her walking away. "I’m glad you’re finding this all so amusing,” she hissed, her tone telling Roman that things were shifting again.
The wind picked up outside the window, the rain threatening to turn to hail. Zeus’ fury about to come down upon them. The air had become thick, the tell tale sign that lightning was about to strike.
“Roman,” Gerri called across the room, hands gripping the marble of the kitchen island as her hair fell in front of her face. She looked like a broken woman. Roman sighed as he started to cross the room. Evidently, jokes were not what Gerri needed right now. All he wanted to do was pick her up and tuck under her the egyptian cotton sheets in their bed until the storms passed by them. “Look, I’m sorry, I know this is —“ Roman started, but Gerri spoke at the same, cutting him off.
“I think I need to quit as CEO,” Gerri announced, head low as she looked across the kitchen island at him before it all became too much.
That job was a hollow crown. A poisoned chalice that would take her reputation and suck the lifeblood from her until she either dropped dead or was thrown out of the plane without a golden parachute. Only the mediocre men got those. Lily had been right. The oracle who should be at Delphini instead of locked in an ivory tower in Manhattan.
The crown would be ripped from her head the second she no longer served Logan Roy’s interests. Or the day she no longer served Kendall Roy’s interests or even Shiv’s. Whoever would inevitably succeed the man when he was cold and dead in the ground. Though Logan Roy would haunt them all from beyond the grave.
“Oh no, oh no you don’t, what the fuck has brought this on?” Roman shouted after her as he walked down the hallway after Gerri. He followed her into her office, wide eyes fixed on her as she started pacing around on the carpet.
“What part of - my own daughter kept my grandchild from me - did you fucking miss, Rome?” Gerri yelled back, her voice raised for the first time as she threw her arms in the air. Roman shook his head. This was all madness. He had to find a way of talking her down off the edge. That’s all this was. Just a decade of unprocessed grief and trauma coming to the surface, triggered by a revelation enough to have anyone questioning their life choices.
“Okay, no offence Ger, you’re hardly going to quit and become Mary bloody Poppins, so like, drink another martini and chill for a second,” Roman pleaded, grinding his teeth as she flinched away from him as he tried to reach out to touch her. She needed to cry it out. She needed to process it all in the safety of her home - whether that was within the walls of the penthouse or wrapped in his arms - and find a way to move forward.
“Let’s not go doing anything fucking drastic,” he warned, her threat to resign as CEO still ringing in his ears. Part of him didn’t think that was the full story. Gerri couldn’t cut herself off from the Waystar Royco world. If she walked, he’d have to walk too. Everyone would see right through him for the fraud that he was without her there to bolster him. It could only be him at the top if she was there. “What do you suggest I do then?” Gerri questioned, a bitterness lacing her voice now as she waited for another Roy to tell her what to do with her life.
“I don’t know, be stable for a hot minute, just sit down and think about this,” Roman offered, realising he was perhaps the worst person to be offering advice in a crisis like this. “I am stable and I’ve done nothing but fucking think since I left Lily’s house,” Gerri shouted, voice raised as she circled the room once more.
It had all brought a disturbing sense of clarity to her. Selina was just another thing she had lost because of Waystar - because of her career.
She hadn’t been there when her mother died - flying out and coming home the same day as the funeral because Waystar had been acquiring another cruise line. The General Counsel role had put Baird in an early grave. Logan’s ever-demanding schedule and refusal to ever let them be off the clock meant she had missed more birthday parties, school shows, and recitals than she could ever count.
And what did she have to show for it? What had she given the best years of her life for?
An interim CEO job title that would no doubt be handed on a silver platter to a mediocre man with the right surname. A relationship with a younger man that had started as a convenient lie but that would no doubt end up as another victim of her career as the poison would eventually drip through.
Logan Roy had taken one husband from her. He’d probably inevitably take Roman as well.
“Ger, listen to me…” Roman pleaded, crossing the room towards her as she sat herself down on the end of the chaise lounge in front of the black bookcases. “Please, Roman,” Gerri sighed, shaking her head as he dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching out to wrap his hands around her wrist to stop her leaving.
“You can’t quit. We’re making this work. You’re an insane genius, G, you’re the person who deserves to be CEO. Not me or Kendall or even fucking Shiv. It’s you who should be in that job,” Roman protested, his voice quickening as his words started to stumble over each other. His mind was going a mile a minute. “It’s not just the job, Roman,” Gerri breathed, kissing her teeth as she shook her head.
This had to end - before it could cause her more pain than it had to.
“It’s everything to do with your family. It’s Waystar. It’s your father. It’s my career. It’s…it’s us,” Gerri paused, her eyes finally meeting his as Roman lifted himself up on his knees, straightening his back as he leaned forward, his hands moving up her arm. “What do you mean by that?” he questioned, his heart beating slower as he felt the Earth shift under him as the rain bounced off the window behind Gerri’s desk, the thunder starting to roll in.
Gerri steadied her face, lips thinning as she asked the question (more of a warning) that had been repeating itself in her head since that night in Tuscany. “How does this serve my interests?” she asked, glassy eyes gleaming under the dim light of the office.
How did any of this serve her interest? Being with Roman was almost guaranteed to be a death sentence for her relationship with Lily - perhaps even Madeline as well. No Lily meant no Selina or any other grandchildren in the future.
Part of Gerri expected herself to die at Waystar - to drop dead in the same office her husband had died in. Her relationship with Roman probably meant the death of her career. She knew what people were saying behind her back. The comments that weren’t even thought of when it was Baird and her thirty years ago with an almost similar age gap.
The survival chances of her relationship with Roman were also slim to none. Logan would eventually find a way of pitting them against each other like pieces on a chess board. The Bishop and the Queen. Lily was right. If he found out about Selina he wouldn’t think twice of turning her into another pawn on his chessboard. They were all just pieces on a chess board to be pitted against each other until the strongest one won out - or until Logan would get what he wanted.
“We can make this work,” Roman pushed, his grip of her arms tightening as he watched her look away, no longer able to look him in the eyes. It would be easier that way. She wouldn’t feel as if she was kicking a puppy begging at her feet. There was only so much hurt her heart could take.
“I was stupid for ever letting this happen,” she confessed, knowing things would be less complicated if she had never given into temptation. If she had never given herself a taste of it. She should have kept him at arm’s length. Should never have let him into the apartment. Should never let him into her bed. Because now she knew what it felt to wake up with his warm body next to her. Knew where all the little scars were on his body. She knew the feeling of his five o’clock shadow against her skin when he’d kiss her in the morning before she’d send him packing towards the shower.
Gerri knew what it felt like to co-exist with him now. What their relationship was like when it was finally released from an existence spent in expensive hotel rooms, maintained through telephone conversations that always ended up with Roman getting what he wanted and Gerri experiencing a high that felt better than almost any other sexual pleasure.
It escaped those hotel rooms and became more than phone sex. It had become a relationship built on exchanges of “ good morning” under satin sheets and nights spent exploring each other’s minds as much as their bodies.
But it all had to end. It had to end before she wouldn’t have the strength to save herself.
“Letting this happen?” Roman repeated, eyes wide as he realised it might already be too late. She had already made up her mind about the CEO role, but that didn’t seem to be the only thing she was ending tonight. “You put me in this situation, Roman!” Gerri cried, snapping her arms out of his hold as she leaned back further away from him, but he only leaned closer. He wasn’t about to let her give up on them.
“Oh, no, hold up. I might have started this but it takes two to tango, Ger,” Roman reminded her, knowing she had been in as deep as he had. He might have fallen first but she - there was no denying it - Gerri had fallen as well. “Look, okay, I get it. You’re spooked,” he tried, changing tactics as he rested his forehead against her knees, the sweat dampening the cotton of her dress as he uttered a silent prayer.
Gerri fought with herself to not reach out for him. To not run her fingers through his hair the way she did every morning and night. To not let him take her to bed and make her forget that a world existed outside of the penthouse walls. He’d tell her that nothing else mattered except for them. But that wasn't true and life was never that simple.
“This can’t work. It’s never going to work. It only worked because it started as a lie you told your father,” Gerri reminded him, her voice steady but slow as she spoke. Lily’s revelation had put things into perspective. A disturbing sense of clarity seeping into every aspect of her life.
Roman wasn’t ready to be defeated just yet. “Was it a lie though? Really?” he asked, confident in his belief that he knew how Gerri felt about him. How they felt about each other. None of that had been a lie. Nothing that had happened in this apartment had been a lie. Nothing they had ever said or done had really been a lie - a white lie at best, but always founded on a half-truth. “Whether there was any truth in that it doesn’t matter,” Gerri insisted, sniffling as she closed her eyes for a moment, head resting back against the chaise lounge as Roman took her hands this time. “I’ve never lied about how I feel about you,” he confessed, knowing his feelings for her had probably been the only thing he had ever been truthful about in his entire life. He had never lied to her. He could never lie to her now.
The white flag wouldn’t fly just yet.
“This can’t work Roman. I know what people are saying about us and I have a grandchild, Roman. A grandchild that would almost definitely pass for being your child,” Gerri reminded him, the difference in their ages once more painfully obvious. Part of her imagined the embarrassment that would come if they were ever out with her in public. No doubt everyone would rightly assume she was Selina’s grandmother but wrongly surmise that Roman was the girl’s father and therefore her son. It would lead to more wandering eyes and comments about their ages. About how unsuitable they were for each other. How she had sold her soul to another Roy in the name of self-preservation.
“I don’t want kids,” Roman blurted out, having never pictured himself with a life like that. He had never wanted it - and he didn’t want it now. All he wanted was a penthouse on the 16th floor of a Manhattan lowrise with an ageing tortoise in the study and Gerri’s ‘80s vinyls playing every Sunday morning as he made pancakes in the kitchen while she went through all thirty-two steps of her skincare routine. That was what he wanted.
And that was what he was about to lose.
“Either way, you’re hardly going to be someone’s step-grandfather,” Gerri concluded, shaking her head as the ridiculousness of the situation once more threw itself in her face. “The fucking like age thing isn’t an issue, Ger,” Roman protested, his fingers interlocking through hers as he brought their joint hands towards his chest. “I could walk out there right now and be hit by a bus and you could live to 100,” he reminded her, part of him knowing he wasn’t made to see old age. He wouldn’t live to the same age as his father, that much was for sure.
Gerri shook her head, her mind no longer processing what he was saying. Her decision had been made. “ Everything is an issue,” she dismissed his delusional thoughts that this could ever have a different ending. He was still on his knees in front of her, practically hanging onto her hands as though he was a sailor lost at sea and she was the siren’s song guiding him though.
“You’re making things an issue,” Roman cried, but Gerri had that look on her face that told him she was set in her ways. “Roman, stop arguing with me,” she pleaded, trying to free her hands from his as he sat back down on his heels.
There was no point. She had already made her mind up. Gerri had one of two options. Throw herself back into her career and make the sacrifices worth it or find her own golden parachute and seek her penance.
Roman’s hands were folded once more in prayer to the Goddess divine as he leaned closer to her, his gaze never dropping. “Gerri, this works, we work,” he repeated as if it was a philosophical maxim. His maxim where all things started and ended. “In this apartment maybe, but not anywhere else,” Gerri countered, part of her wishing they only had to exist within these walls. That they could continue this charade as easily as the lies they told Logan in Tuscany.
“We were kidding ourselves for ever thinking this could work,” she added, her voice starting to break once more as she looked down at their joint hands on her lap. His hands weren’t large ones. They weren’t like Baird’s - not the sort that could swallow her own hands whole. His hands were only a little bigger than hers. The right size for her fingers to slip through his as easy as her head tucked against his neck at night.
Why did they have to fit so well together? There was a certain sort of cruelty in that.
Roman rolled the hard six. The only had he had left to play. “I’ll leave Waystar then, would that make this easier?” he offered, ready to throw everything down on the table for her. Whatever it would take to end this conversation and bring them down to Earth again, down to the reality of the 71,880 square foot penthouse he came to think of as their home.
Gerri’s eyes widened, the room spinning as she contemplated his offer for the briefest of moments. A life away from Waystar and the baggage of being in the Roy family. But ghosts would follow them wherever they might go. “Absolutely not, you are not leaving Waystar,” she protested, refusing to let him lose his potential - and his birth right - on a gamble about the future of their relationship. “None of it matters, Ger,” he pleaded.
None of it mattered if she wasn’t there. He couldn’t be CEO - or even COO - without her there. Rockstar and the molewoman. They were a package deal. He couldn’t do it without her. It wasn’t worth it without her there. He wouldn’t last without her there. He would find himself falling back into his old ways, being the disappointment of the family once more.
The blade lifted once more, waiting to make its next cut.
“Get out, Rome,” Gerri whispered, struggling to make her voice any louder as she looked away, her eyes catching sight of one of the pictures of Lily in a little silver frame. Dressed in the same sort of ballerina costume she had seen Selina in that morning. Had it all been worth it? A little voice her head told it probably hadn’t been.
“I’m not leaving, Ger,” Roman insisted, his knees refusing to move from the floor as he stayed in front of her. She didn’t have the strength to fight him. Not that she wanted to. Gerri looked defeated. For the first time in his life, Roman looked into her eyes and thought she looked as though she wanted to flee. Run away from everything in New York and maybe go off to find Madeline somewhere.
“You better be gone by the morning,” she told him, once more feeling that eternal sense of dread coming over her. Kicking Roman out meant that she would be alone again. It was perhaps her biggest fear. Her fear of dying alone without someone watching over her as she passed from this world to the next. Baird had died alone. Practically dead before he hit the ground of his office. Lily wouldn’t be there for her. Selina would never know her grandmother. Madeline would probably be halfway around the world and Roman….
It didn’t bear thinking about.
“Ger, I can’t do it without you,” Roman confessed, his voice shaking as his vision became blurry. Everything started to fall from his grasp. “Come on, we’re Rockstar and the Molewoman,” he pleaded, reaching out to clasp her left hand with both of his.
Maybe this was it. The very last thing he could say to show her how he felt. To make her understand that he couldn’t let her walk out of him. “Gerri, I - I think I, well I -” Roman paused, he couldn’t find the words he needed. Nothing would translate how he felt. Nothing would do her justice. He wasn’t a Wordsworth or a Hemingway. He couldn’t wax lyrical to her about how he felt. He didn’t think he had to - he thought she had always known. But she couldn’t know. Not if she was willing to do this.
Gerri’s eyes widened as she realised why he was stumbling over his words. Roman had never been good with his feelings. Nothing was ever said in a straightforward way. It would be just like him to make this confession now - at the eleventh hour.
“Roman, don’t say it. Please don’t say it,” Gerri pleaded, freeing her hand from his as she slipped out of his grasp, his hands slipping through the fabric of her dress as he reached out to try and stop her. But it was already too late. “Don’t. Don’t say it,” she repeated, walking towards the window as the first sounds of thunder rumbled overhead, the rain turning to hail as it cried against the glass.
She couldn’t hear it. Not now. Not those three little words.
It would be the deepest cut of them all. The death blow.
“Gerri,” Roman tried again as he stumbled to his feet, eyes fixed on her as she looked out at the storm. “Go sleep in the guest room, Rome,” she announced, making it clear that she had made up her mind. The line had once more been drawn in the sand. They were over. This - whatever it had been - was over.
It felt like being at a wake now. Mourning something that had just died before them. A silent death without much of a fight.
“No, Ger - G, we’ve got to work this out,” Roman objected, though his feet were glued to the floor, stopping him from crossing over to Gerri. She turned to look at him, eyes red once more from the pressure of the tears she wouldn’t let fall. “I have one daughter that is half way across the fucking world and another who hid a child from me, Rome - my own grandchild,” She reminded him, chin quickering as her cheeks flinched, every fragment of her being trying to hold her together.
“I don’t do relationships very well. I was never very good with all that, even with Baird. He wanted a pretty little wife and I wanted a leg up in the company. Even my fucking marriage was a business transaction,” Gerri confessed, every lie she had told herself for the last thirty years was slapping her across the face one by one.
She had loved Baird but Gerri would be lying if she said her corporate personas hadn’t been part of the reason she had said “I do”. She had only had the children because Baird wanted them. That was another wound that was being reopened, the stitches being ripped apart by Lady Macbeth’s little fucking screwdriver.
“This isn’t going to work,” Gerri decided, looking the truth in the face once more as she crossed the room, inching towards the door. “What does…what does this mean?” Roman asked, his palms sweaty as the room started to feel smaller, the walls closing in on them. “ We go through with the plan. We end this whole fucked up charade at the RECNY ball and that’s that,” Gerri announced, her General Counsel facade falling into place for a moment. She had to treat like this another business transition with a contract in place.
“That’s that?” Roman repeated, dumbfounded for a moment as he watched her throw open the office door and head down the hallway towards the master bedroom. The thunder sounded closer this time, the lightning illuminating through the windows of the hallway, bringing everything into a harsh new light. “ Don’t just turn your back on me, Ger!” he shouted, setting off after her down the hallway.
The bedroom door slammed shut in his face a moment later. “Gerri!” He shouted, fingers going for the door handle but she had turned the lock on the other side before he could get to it. He banged his fists against the door as the lightning flashed once more, the thunder rolling in a few seconds later. It was almost on top of them now.
Nothing seemed to be working. He couldn’t hear anything over the storm. Roman pressed his forehead against his knees, his back resting against the locked door of the master bedroom as he sat himself onto the floor. “I’m not leaving here, Ger, not until we talk through this,” he shouted over the thunder as it started to echo above their heads.
But he was gone the next day and 216 missed calls sat on Gerri’s phone by the time she left the bedroom two days later when the pain had finally numbed.
Chapter 15: The Devil's Keep
Notes:
This is our final chapter before the RECNY ball section of this fic. It's not one, not two, but THREE chapters long. There are a LOT of breadcrumbs in this chapter. Breadcrumbs to the left of me, breadcrumbs to the right of me. And plenty of Easter eggs.
Chapter Text
Saturday night faded into Sunday and the hours dragged, every second feeling more like a minute, until Monday morning. The Matsson trip couldn’t have come at a worse time - but at least it guaranteed them having a chance to talk to one another. Not that it appeared as though Gerri wanted to speak to him. No one had seen or spoken to Gerri all weekend - not even the concierge staff at her apartment complex.
Roman paced across the tarmac in front of the private jet, refusing to look at the four assistants who were huddled together. He waited for any sign of Gerri arriving. All four assistants had been confused when he had shown up without her, but none of them had said anything. A small mercy. Emily would have seen right through whatever lie he would have told her.
But what if she didn’t show? What would he do then?
But Roman knew that Gerri was a professional above all else. Her relationship with Lily proved that nothing came before her responsibilities at Waystar Royco, whether as General Counsel or Interim CEO. He had asked Fredrick to drive Gerri to the airport and across the tarmac to the jet. Roman still didn’t trust the Waystar drivers and Fredrick was one of the few people he could rely on to be discreet - especially now.
The Aston Martin appeared through the gate at the other end of the airfield. Roman fixed his blazer as he watched the car head towards him. He braced for impact. Gerri would either be doing her best impression of the Wicked Witch of the West or she’d act as if nothing had happened. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.
The car came to a stop. Roman counted the twenty three seconds it took for Gerri to open the door, stepping out of the car with a Longchamp travel bag in hand.
Gerri waved over towards the four assistants, forcing her lips into a tense smile as she tried to give the impression that everything was okay. That her entire world hadn’t fallen off its axis two days ago. As if another fault line hadn’t opened up on her already wounded heart.
“Good morning,” she greeted, glancing at the steps of the private jet where one of the air hostesses stood, waiting to give them the signal that they could head up. Gerri fixed her sunglasses as she turned her back to the assistants, leaving her facing Roman. They had to act normal - as if nothing happened. They’d have to fashion another set of lies to tell their assistants. “Hello,” she acknowledged him with a nod of her head, aware that the four assistants were probably watching them.
“Are you - are you okay?” Roman asked, fingers twitching to reach out for her. He had hardly slept since leaving her apartment, having grown too used to the feeling of sleeping next to her. The sound of her breathing had become the white noise that lulled him to sleep. He had woken up more than once within a few minutes of falling asleep, still disoriented and calling her name as if he was back in the penthouse and she was in the en-suite. He settled for reaching out and taking her bag from her, setting it next to his leather duffle bag on the tarmac.
“I’m fine,” Gerri insisted with a shrug as she folded her arms, fingers digging into the material of her white blouse. The pain of her nails digging in was enough to distract her thoughts. Enough to ground her in the moment and stop her spiralling. The penthouse had been too quiet after he left - as if she had blown out the flame keeping her home warm. Killing the flame guiding the two moths to each other.
Roman wasn’t an idiot. No one who was okay ever answered that question with “I’m fine.” And Gerri hadn’t been sleeping. No amount of concealer and fancy skincare products was going to hide that from him. Not when he knew how she looked after a peaceful night’s sleep. Not when he knew those sunglasses were hiding a dullness to her eyes that only creeped in when she didn’t sleep. “I tried calling you,” he said, wondering if perhaps her phone was floating at the bottom of the Hudson or if she had really locked herself away from the world all weekend.
“Yes, I saw your 163 calls and 300 text messages,” Gerri acknowledged, having listened to her phone as it rang and beeped across the room every time he tried to reach her. Not even her music had been able to get the ringing out of her head. A constant reminder that her isolation had been self-inflicted. All she had to do was answer the phone and he would come running like an obedient puppy. But she couldn’t answer the phone, couldn’t give in to what she knew she wanted.
“I just checked myself into the Plaza for the weekend,” Gerri lied calmly, not wanting him to know she had done nothing other than cry and lay awake staring at the ceiling for 36 hours. She had ripped apart every photo album in her bedroom. Scrolled on her phone with it set on ‘ do not disturb’ mode as she tried to find Lily’s social media. There weren’t any photos of Selina there and hardly any with Elise either. She had somehow found herself on Roman’s Instagram - but one photo of the Tuscan sunset was all she could bring herself to look at before throwing her phone across the room.
The bedsheets still smelt of him. His cologne was all over the pillow on his side of the bed. A sign of just how much he had bled into every part of her life. She had ended up stripping the bed and leaving everything in a crumpled mess on the floor. Another mess for someone else to clean up.
“Cool, cool,” Roman nodded as he threaded his index fingers through the loops of his belt. Forcing himself not to reach out for her. “What about you?” Gerri asked by way of making small talk for the sake of appearances. Roman assumed it was obvious what he had spent the rest of his weekend doing. Calling her every 15 minutes on the chance she might pick up her phone on the 142th attempt at getting her to answer. “Did laundry,” he answered with a shrug, relieved his eyes were focused on watching the plane door for any sign of the crew being ready for them.
Gerri knew Roman didn’t know how to close a washing machine door, let alone how to do a proper load of laundry. He was lying to her - the same way she was lying to him. Gerri pursed her lips at the ridiculousness of it all. They were two silent people with a novel’s worth to say to one another. Where would they start? In an ideal world without all this baggage. Would she have apologised first? Would he have told her none of it mattered and that emotions had been running high? But this wasn’t an ideal world and their baggage wasn’t disappearing like a suitcase at Charles de Galle airport.
The air hostess called down that the plane was ready for them now and that they could come up at their leisure. “About time,” Gerri muttered, taking her sunglasses off, tucking them into the neckline of her white silk shirt. She made a beeline for the stairs up to the plane, keen to put some distance between them both. The last thing she needed was to be left staring at Roman for the next seven hours until they got to Oslo.
“Gerri,” Roman called, a few steps behind her as he tried to catch up. She turned her head to look at him, pausing on the middle step on the way up to the plane. “I know when you lie to me,” he reminded her, heading up the steps to close the gap between them, his hands coming to rest on the rails on either side of Gerri, the two of them facing each other now. Gerri pursed her lips as she tilted her head, the interim CEO persona falling into place once more.
“Oh, really?” she asked, unconvinced as she felt her fingers twitch on the railing, as if pleading to close the tiny gap between her hand and his. Roman leaned forward, ignoring the fact that the step difference gave her a few inches of height over him. “You have a tell - your left eye twitches just a little when you lie,” he whispered, breathing in time with her as if daring her to lie to him again.
Gerri fought to keep her poker face in play, biting the inside of her cheek as she felt her eyebrows lift slightly. “You’re delusional, Roman,” she snapped, turning on her heel to head up the rest of the steps to board the aircraft.
Roman smirked to himself as he watched her go.
Her left eye had twitched.
He followed her up the rest of the steps into the plane, greeting the air hostess before storing their bags away. The RECNY ball was only four days away and he refused to go down without a fight. Gerri would come around. She’d see sense eventually - but until then, he’d be there waiting.
Outside the aircraft, the four assistants had finished their briefing. “Enjoy Norway,” Emily smiled, putting her Longchamp tote onto her shoulder as she started scrolling through her emails. “Aren’t you coming?” Nancy asked, looking between the two first assistants. If Emily wasn’t coming, it meant Alice wouldn’t be either. Maybe that explained why one of the Waystar cars was still waiting on the tarmac.
“Second assistants only on this trip, Emily and I are staying here to oversee the RECNY ball planning,” Alice explained, eyes glancing over to the plane steps as Gerri and Roman disappeared off inside. “Nancy, don’t let Nick do anything stupid,” Emily warned, glaring at her junior counterpart before smiling at Nancy as she stepped forward to hug the girl. The trip was only for Roman and Gerri to have a face-to-face with Matsson without any other Waystar employees present, so it didn’t call for all four assistants to travel with them.
Emily walked with Nick up towards the steps, while Alice grabbed Nancy by the arm to hold her back a minute. “Text me if anything’s funny with the boss, will you?” she asked, watching as Nancy clocked her head a little in confusion. Alice knew something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was, but Gerri had looked visibly uncomfortable. It wasn’t a sight she was used to seeing - especially not when Roman was with her. “I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry,” Nancy promised, giving Alice’s arm a squeeze as Nick shouted her name from the top of the steps. “My once and future ex-husband beckons,” she groaned, rolling her eyes before crossing the tarmac towards the plane steps, waving at Emily before turning right and heading towards the front row of seats.
The first thing that told Nancy something was wrong was the fact Gerri was standing in the aisle of the plane. Her laptop was tucked under one arm, her travel bag already stored away. Roman was looking up at Gerri from his seat like a puppy waiting to be kicked. “Nancy, why don’t you sit with me up front? I have some RECNY ball plans I’d like to work on with you,” Gerri announced, moving up the aisle towards where Nancy was standing, passing through the partition that separated the two cabins. Nancy raised an eyebrow at that. Gerri rarely sat with the assistants and if she did it was always Alice. “Sure, Ger,” she agreed, nodding her head at her boss as she followed behind her.
Roman watched as the pair headed off to the front of the plane, his eyes following Gerri as she moved through the partition before disappearing behind the metal wall. “Guess it’s just us, Nicky boy,” he remarked, looking over at his own second assistant who was standing watching the scene unfold. “Good ‘cause Emily has left me with like fifteen things for you to read through and she said you haven’t picked a suit for the RECNY ball yet,” Nick declared as he slipped into the seat across from Roman, setting his laptop down on the table between them.
Gerri avoided him for the rest of the plane journey. He didn’t see her once during the seven hours it took them to get to Oslo. Nancy had appeared once or two through the partition to speak to Nick or ask about something related to the RECNY ball, but that was it. The plane landed and Gerri headed out first with Nancy trailing behind her. The two women slipped into the first of the waiting cars, leaving the tarmac before either Roman or Nick were off the plane.
“Did Gerri put you in the dog house or something?” Nick joked as they headed down the steps of the plane, the car carrying the two women already speeding out the gates. “Did Nancy put you in the dog house? You’re like a little lovesick puppy around her, Nick, it’s gross,” Roman deflected, getting into the waiting car before they set off in the direction of the GoJo office.
GoJo’s headquarters were just outside of Oslo. The rural setting was a world away from Waystar’s Manhattan homeland. The office looked more like a luxury ski resort than the headquarters of a tech company. Though Roman supposed its dark corners and mahogany wood fed into the creepy vampire thing Matsson had going on. There was no chance of the sun finding him here.
The two cars had pulled into the driveway in front of the building behind each other. The place seemed relatively quiet as Gerri walked up the steps, Nancy by her side as Nick walked with Roman. Gerri cringed at the decor in the small reception area of the building. The dark wood panelling of the exterior had been carried through to the inside of the building, making the room appear smaller and colder. She wondered if it was deliberately meant to make visitors feel ill at ease. A reminder that you were an outsider.
Roman cleared his throat, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Nick, Nancy, find Matsson’s people and tell him we’re here, I need to talk to Ger about something,” he announced, suspecting the building was relatively empty at this hour of the day. The work day was long over and he suspected that Matsson had likely cleared the building ahead of their arrival to stop any leaks. The last thing anyone wanted was this visit splashed across the front page of The New York Times’ business section.
Nick headed towards the double doors but Nancy stood firm, glancing over at Gerri for permission to leave. “It’s okay, Nancy,” Gerri assured her with a nod, giving the second assistant the confirmation she needed to leave her boss behind.
The door shut behind Nick and Nancy as they walked through the building in search of Matsson’s team. Trust the Scandinavians to have master planned an office building that made zero functional sense. Roman waited until he couldn’t hear the click clacking of Nancy’s heels before he turned to look at Gerri.
“So we’re back to play acting again, are we?” he asked, the irritation evident in his voice. She had avoided him for the whole seven-hour fight as if they were having some petty little fight. “Roman, just behave yourself, please,” Gerri pleaded, tapping her heel against the wooden floor as she folded her arms. “Oh, I can behave,” Roman countered, the insinuation clear that she was the one who wasn’t behaving.
Gerri snapped her head around to look at him, the annoyance evident in her face. Why was he making this hard? Was he trying to push her buttons?
“Do you want to throw this whole GoJo deal out the window by behaving like a stupid teenager?” she asked, wondering if he had ever actually cared about the GoJo deal. If he had just been following her instructions this whole time and didn’t realise how the future of Waystar Royco hinged on this single deal. “I don’t give a fuck about this deal,” Roman shrugged, knowing that the only thing he truly cared about was standing in front of him at that very moment. Fuck the deal. It meant nothing. Not really. Not without her. It only mattered when it served their interests.
“We’re over. Traditional media is dead. Tech is coming. It’s going to wash us away,” Gerri reminded him, though the voice at the back of her head told her they were having two different conversations. “Don’t be so dramatic, G,” Roman taunted, giving his best impersonation of Gerri’s signature eye roll.
Gerri grabbed him by the arm, looking over her shoulder to check no one was coming before backing him into the wall behind them. Roman’s back hit against the wall with more force than she had intended to - and suddenly they weren’t in Norway anymore. They were in a New York penthouse sixteen floors high with a closet full of La Perla and Manolo Blahniks. With a master bedroom Roman could picture with his eyes closed and a stack of worn vinyl records.
“Roman,” she warned, nails digging into the sleeve of his blazer. “What are you going to do, Ger? Put your Manolo in my face and explain to me what the SEC is?” Roman gibed, leaning closer to her as he kept his eyes fixed on her face. “You’re being silly, Roman,” she scolded, the tension of being on the same plane as him for seven hours finally cracking. “No, you’re being silly, Ger,” Roman rebuked, flinching as he moved his arms out of her grasp. This wasn’t the penthouse and this wasn’t their life only a few short days ago.
Gerri stepped back, her Manolo heels echoing as they clicked against the ground. If they were back in the penthouse, she almost certainly would have put them in his face. Maybe even would have dug the stiletto into his foot until he whined like a puppy wanting to get into bed beside its mistress.
“You’re too stubborn to see that this is all wrong, G,” Roman insisted, knowing that it was Gerri’s stubbornness - her refusal to look the truth in the face - that had put them in this position. “Oh, really?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief as she folded her arms. “This works. We work,” Roman stood firm, thinking back to just two days beforehand when everything had fallen apart. When she had thrown him out of her apartment and locked herself away to repent for her sins. “You just won’t let yourself be happy,” he added, wondering if there was a part of Gerri that didn’t believe she deserved to be happy.
Gerri pulled her eyes away from him, hands on her hips as she started to pace in front of him. “Roman, this is all a mess,” she confessed, her voice shaking a little as her chin quivered under the stress of it all. “I thought putting out fires and fixing messes was your strong suit, Ger,” Roman reminded her, lowering his voice as he took a step forward, his hands coming out to rest on her shoulders. “Look, you need a minute, I get it. You had a shock,” he began, taking in the dullness of her eyes as he watched the first crack form across her walls. Gerri would give in eventually. All he had to do was wait. “But I’m here, Gerri. I’m standing right here ,” he concluded, his voice a little strained as he felt the gears turning in Gerri’s head.
“You called me a stone cold killer bitch once. Maybe life would be easier if I was,” Gerri observed, wondering if that persona would have made it easier to have shrugged it all off. Would have made it easier to put all her emotions and devastation into a little box to neatly put away. After all, wasn’t she just another human filing cabinet? The last thirty years could have been put in a box and neatly filed away until she was an old woman at death’s door. But she wasn’t that persona.
“You’re not that. I never should have called you that,” Roman sighed, once again regretting ever having made that jibe in the hospital waiting room. “What am I then?” she questioned, the sharpness of her voice hiding the hurt within her. Roman blinked as he tried to find the right words to use. But he came up short every time. Were there enough words in the English language to do her justice? To make her see just how important she was to him. “You’re -” Roman began, struggling to put the words together before he paused.
The door creaked open, making it clear that they were no longer alone.
“Ah it’s Mr & Mrs Smith,” Matsson’s voice boomed across the open plan lobby as he leaned against the doorframe. His body language made it clear that was rather delighted to have walked in when they were in the middle of something. Trust Matsson to be a gossip. Men like him made their career off the back of trading gossip and scandal, whether it was industry secrets or hearsay about competitors.
Roman let Gerri take the lead. She was the interim CEO, after all. “Mr. Matsson,” she greeted with a nod of her head, though her mind was distracted by Roman’s hand falling onto the small of her back. Just possessive enough to remind her of the game they were meant to be playing.
“Follow me. Welcome to Norway,” Matsson acknowledged, watching as Gerri and Roman looked between each other before one Manolo stepped in front of the other, the couple heading through the lobby towards them.
Nancy watched as Roman and Gerri appeared through the door with Matsson, waiting for them to get a few steps ahead before heading off after them. “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him,” Nancy hissed as they trailed behind Roman and Gerri down the hallway, Nick walking in step with her. “You couldn’t throw him if you tried Nanc,” Nick reminded her with a snigger as he looked down at his companion. Even in her heels she was still several inches shorter than him. “That’s the point, Nicky,” Nancy whispered as she slipped her hand through the man’s arm for a moment. Nick could smell the wood and rose of her perfume, a scent he could only ever associate with her.
She was going to kill him if she ever found out.
The group found themselves in a small conference room. Roman and Gerri took the middle seats on the side closest to the door, their respective assistants on each side. Matsson, Ebba, Oskar, and their assistants sat across from them in a similar order.
“I’ve heard good reports about you, Ms. Kellman,” Matsson started, putting on the charm offensive as he smiled across the table at her. Roman fidgeted with one of the GoJo branded pens in front of him. “Please, call me Gerri,” she insisted, not sure when the last time was that anyone had called her ‘Ms. Kellman’.
“Lukas,” Matsson offered in return before shifting his focus back towards Roman, “I just wanted a face to face with you two. All things considered,” he explained, thinking of everything that had happened since he had seen Roman when they were both in Italy. “Your siblings are out then?” he asked, Ebba writing down notes beside him while Oskar watched the two Kellman and Roy assistants. Roman tried to imagine what would happen if Shiv knew where they were. He imagined it would have involved him being thrown out the nearest window and drowned in a body of water somewhere. “I think that’s safe to say,” Roman acknowledged, though part of him knew it should have been Kendall sitting across from Matsson, building that relationship for the future of Waystar Royco, and not him,
Gerri shifted awkwardly in her seat at the mention of Shiv and Kendall. While Kendall was off recovery somewhere in a rehabilitation centre, Shiv was up to her usual nonsense. The fact she hadn’t seen Shiv since the party at Logan’s had put her on edge. Shiv was up to something. That much Gerri was sure of.
“So the Roy crown sits in Kellman hands,” Matsson observed as he turned his attention back to Gerri. They were 3,600 miles from New York, yet the Kellman vs. Roy narrative seemed to have made its way across the Atlantic with them. Lily’s words echoed back in her ears again, “you’ve been a Roy as long as you’ve been a Kellman”. Gerri pursed her lips, wondering if this was where the line would be drawn in the sand. The House of Waystar Royco splitting in two.
“We have an updated proposal that our financial and legal departments have put together,” Gerri announced, keen to get the conservation back on track and away from her personal life. Nancy produced two Waystar Royco branded binders, pushing them across the table towards the two GoJo assistants opposite her and Nick.
The rest of the conversation stayed on topic. The latest Waystar stock forecasting, along with updates about several of its smaller recent acquisitions - including the Israeli AI machine learning software. Gerri started to wonder, somewhere between the conversation about personnel division and transition periods, if this visit had been a power move on the part of Matsson. Another thought in her head was that Logan had deliberately wanted them out of the country for something. So far everything they had discussed could have been done over a Zoom call. What was the need for a face-to-face meeting?
“Gerri, do you mind?” Matsson asked as the meeting drew to a close, the assistants finishing scribbling down their final notes. “Ebba would like to have a chat with you and my assistants can give yours a tour of our facilities,” he proposed, making it clear that he wanted to speak in private to Roman. She didn’t put up a fight with that. Roman would know what to do. After all, he was the one with an established relationship with Matsson. Perhaps he would be able to figure out why they had crossed the Atlantic for a 50-minute chat.
Gerri threw a look at Roman over her shoulder as she left. As the expert in ‘Gerri speak’, Roman took that look to mean “Don’t fuck it up, idiot ”.
“So the rumours are true?” Matsson asked as the door shut behind the assistants and he was finally left alone with the only legitimate Roy in the room. “Waystar’s CEO and COO are fucking,” he observed with an amused smirk as he got up from his seat, crossing the room towards the drinks cart in the corner of the conference room. He poured himself a healthy serving of whisky before adding the same to a second glass for his guess.
“I see the internet works in this part of the world,” Roman retorted, a defensiveness coming to his voice that shocked even him. “You may as well be walking around with ‘Mommy’s Boy’ across your forehead,” Matsson taunted, sliding the whisky glass across the table to Roman as he returned to his seat. “Want to borrow my canines? You’ve got that Edward Cullen thing going,” Roman noted, wondering if it was possible for the man to look anymore like he was cosplaying as a vampire.
Matsson laughed at that, taking a swig of his whisky. “I like you two, you’re an interesting couple,” he confessed, nodding his head at the door that Gerri had walked out of a few minutes earlier. “I suppose that’s a back-handed compliment,” Roman mused, letting the first sip of whisky hit the back of his throat. He could just about make out the label of the bottle across the room.
The Devil’s Keep. A rather appropriately named single malt Irish whisky.
“I feel like you two could get shit done,” Matsson bolstered him, waiting for the right moment to bring forward the real reason why he had asked to see Roman in person. “We do get shit done,” Roman agreed, knowing the last six months had been some of the most productive in the company’s history - cruise scandal notwithstanding.
Matsson leaned forward on his chair, the space feeling less like a conference room and more like a side room at some exclusive members club in Mayfair. “Who are you loyal to?” he asked the burning question on the tip of his tongue, twirling his whisky glass in his hand, the Baccarat crystal catching the light above their heads. “Gerri,” Roman immediately replied, not missing a beat. “I thought so,” Matsson acknowledged, now confident in his assessment of the situation.
Roman knew something was coming. He could feel the tidal shift happening beneath his feet. Every move he made now had to serve their interests. Rockstar and the molewoman. Gerri had stood up for him that night in Tuscany because it “ served our interests” to do it. Now he had to show her that he could act in their interests, that they could find a way through this.
“Do you think she could remain as CEO?” Matsson pressed, setting his whisky glass down onto the table. “I get that I’m biased, but she’s the best person for that job, no one else can do what she does,” Roman insisted, trying to visualise the chess board that Matsson was moving around. “You’d give her the job? Over your brother? Over your sister?” Matsson asked, navigating his way closer to the Queen on the chess board. “She’s the only one who deserves it. Only one who could captain the ship,” Roman agreed, answering truthfully, even if it meant he was throwing his siblings under the bus. Neither of them deserved it anyway. Kendall had never put in the work and Shiv would isolate herself and fail to build a team around her.
“I read it was Gerri who oversaw the purchase of the Israeli AI machine learning software,” Matsson acknowledged. That was a tick next to Gerri’s name for him. A sign that she was someone he could leave to get the job done in America while he focused on growth elsewhere. “Pity she’s only interim CEO,” he mused, eyes set on Roman as he delivered his statement.
Roman raised an eyebrow at that. The chess board turned once more.
“I don’t have a say in employment decisions,” he reminded Matsson, picking up his whisky once more as he took a sip. Roman had to be careful where he put his foot. Had to look for the best possible landing for them both. This conversation wasn’t about him. It was about Gerri. It was about the future of Waystar, which inevitably meant…
“You could always knife the old man in the back,” Matsson announced, putting Roman’s thoughts out into the universe before he could even finish articulating them in his mind. “But I’d respect you more if you did it from the front,” he added, face emotionless as he watched to see how the idea would land with the youngest Roy son.
Roman’s grip of his whisky glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. “Europeans and patricide. A tale as old as time,” he muttered with a shake of his head. He wasn’t shocked that Matsson wasn’t keen on his father. It was one thing to request for the man to step down as part of the merger. It was another to promote the idea of patricide. It was clear cut in Matsson’s head. Knife Logan. Put Gerri on the throne. Let Roman do the work. All without getting his own hands dirty.
“I want people I can work with, Roman,” Matsson admitted, knowing that there wouldn’t be enough room for his ego and Logan’s to co-exist within the same ecosystem for longer than an hour or two at the most. “And you don’t think my dad is one of them?” Roman asked, already knowing the answer. He had been there the last time the two men had met, even if he had left ahead of his father. “I don’t think he can see the wood for the trees,” Matsson observed, making Roman wonder what else had transpired during their private meeting in Italy.
“What are you saying, Lukas?” Roman demanded, wanting the man to be straight with him. Matsson shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his seat as he twirled his whisky glass between his hands, eyes fixed on the dark liquid inside. “Nothing lasts forever. Everything comes to an end someday - even a reign as long as Logan Roy’s,” he philosophised, as if already delivering the older man’s eulogy.
This was not the conservation Roman had thought he was coming to have.
“You want me to be Spartacus or whichever bullshit dude you’re hyper fixated on. Probably Napoleon,” Roman observed. The crazy ones were always obsessed with Napoleon and his little dick. “Octavian,” Matsson replied, referring to the founder of the Roman Empire. Another infamous warrior that egotistical men enjoyed basing themselves on. “Octomom?” Roman taunted, well aware of who Octativan was. He had listened to Connor talk about nothing else other than the Roman Emperor for the entire summer that he was 13. “I see your private education was money pissed up a wall,” Matsson said into his empty whisky glass as he got up from his seat once more.
“Just keep that thought in the back of your head, Romey boy. Nothing lasts forever, ” he counselled, his back to Roman as he poured himself another glass of whisky. “Is this why you wanted to meet with us face-to-face?” Roman accused, the pieces finally coming together in his mind. Matsson had wanted the face-to-face meeting to start his assassination planning. “You never know who’s hitting record on one of those calls,” Matsson reminded him, turning to face the other man once more. “You’re paranoid, Lukas,” Roman offered, though he knew Lukas was right. News of a plan - or even the very idea - of something like that wouldn’t stay private for long. That was why Matsson had brought them the water to see him in person.
“A little paranoia is healthy. You better get going. Mommy’s calling,” Matsson announced, waving Roman off with a salute of his whisky glass as he headed out the side door of the conference room that seemed to lead off to another corridor.
Roman turned away as the door slammed shut behind Matsson.
Maybe Matsson had just shown him a third option for Gerri’s situation. The ‘winner takes it all’ scenario. One that didn’t force Gerri to choose between the career she had put thirty years of blood, sweat, and tears into and her personal life. One that could give them all what they wanted.
Roman stepped out into the hallway, looking around for somewhere to step off to. He didn’t trust that conference room to not be bugged. The room next door looked like a makeshift lounge that could convert into an event space with a balcony facing towards the mountains. Roman scrolled through his phone to find the number he had added to his contacts a few days beforehand. He had to put the right pieces into play before making his first move. But this could work.
Even if it involved following Matsson’s advice.
He clicked the contact’s phone number, putting his phone to his ear as he walked through the conference room and out into the balcony, shutting the sliding glass door behind him.
U.S. dial tone. Three rings. Four rings. Then a click.
“Roman Roy, what can I do for you?” Lily asked, her voice floating through Roman’s iPhone as he stepped outside, not wanting to risk anyone overhearing his side of the conversation. “You know you’ve hurt her, right?” he announced, skipping the pleasantries by jumping right in at the deep end. There was a pause for a moment before Roman heard Lily’s muffled voice speak to someone on the other end before she returned to the phone. “I knew she’d tell you,” the woman admitted as Roman wrapped his hand around the railing of the balcony, looking down at the two waiting cars below.
“Oh, she more than told me,” Roman divulged, wondering if Lily knew how much of a wrecking ball she had put through her mother’s life. “Roman, this is going to go nowhere,” Lily snapped, her voice making him think of how Gerri had spoken to him earlier that day. He knew that tone all too well. Lily was going to be just as stubborn as her mother.
“Lily, I -” he tried to interject, but the blonde spoke over him. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Lily questioned, her breathing becoming a little heavier on the other end of the phone. There was a silence between them as Roman looked out at the mountains in the distance. He felt a strange sense of calm come over him when faced with that question.
Roman knew the answer. But now wasn’t the time to admit to it.
“Look, you have every reason to hate my guts, but I think we could work together on this,” he acknowledged, dodging Lily’s question as he started to pace around the balcony. He didn’t know how long he had until Nick or Nancy would come looking for him. “Your mother deserves to be happy,” Roman paused, closing his eyes as he thought back to the look on Gerri’s face that night in the penthouse. She looked like a broken woman. A world away from the smile that had greeted him that same morning. “And frankly, Lily, so do you,” he conceded, knowing that Lily and Gerri had matching wounds. Two sides of the same coin. Both hurting without the other.
Roman thought he could hear Lily sniffle on the other end of the phone. He was getting somewhere.
“We can find a way, Lily, all of us,” Roman insisted, not caring if he was seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses. Perhaps what Matsson was proposing could work. Gerri wouldn’t have to choose then. She had a third option.
There was silence. Roman thought he could hear a voice in the background of Lily’s audio.
“Maybe you’re not that bad for a Roy,” Lily conceded a moment later. “Maybe we can make you a Kellman”, she wanted to add but stopped herself. Roman let out a breath in relief. That was the first task ticked off his to-do list. “You’re coming to the RECNY Ball right?” he asked, knowing he had to get Lily and Gerri to see each other face-to-face. “Yes, now that Mom knows there’s no reason for me not to go as Elise’s plus-one,” Lily explained and Roman made a mental note to check with Emily that the pair were given a table near them.
“Let’s talk there, okay?” Roman proposed, knowing he had to catch her by herself as well. “I can’t say I totally understand your situation, but - I guess - I get it,” he explained, knowing that if anyone could sympathise with the reality of a difficult parental relationship it was him. There was still the elephant in the room - or rather, the little ballerina. “Your sister will be home in a few days, it’s a surprise for your Mom. Could you, fuck I’m really not good at this shit, but I think she’d like to meet-” Roman began, but Lily quickly cut him off.
“Let’s just see how the RECNY ball goes,” she countered, her walls still partly up. Lily knew what he was asking for. He was asking for her to bring Selina to her mother. “I can’t - I can’t lose her, Lily,” he confessed, once more thinking of that penthouse sixteen stories above Manhattan. “And I reckon you don’t want to either,” Roman observed, his mind going back to the night of Gerri’s birthday. Having Lily around had given Gerri a new lease on life. She seemed lighter, more care-free with her around. As if someone had stopped the passage of time and given her back the time she had lost when her daughters were growing up.
“Selina could be a second chance for you both,” Roman offered, knowing that it was the betrayal at having the girl hidden from her that had cut Gerri the most. The mention of her daughter’s name made Lily flinch. “Don’t give up on her yet, Lily,” he pleaded, knowing that there was no way his own relationship with Gerri would survive if she wasn’t able to mend the bridge with her daughters.
There was another pause. A longer one this time that had Roman contemplating whether it would be less painful to jump over the side of the balcony instead of dealing with another stubborn Kellman woman. “You know, I think you’re a lot smarter than people give you credit for, Roman Roy,” Lily finally said, conceding a little more to the man. “Not just a sexy matador,” he awkwardly joked in return, cringing after he said it. “If I wasn’t gay that would’ve been creepy,” Lily offered, though Roman thought he could hear a laugh being hidden in her voice. “But you are, so it’s not,” he countered and Roman reckoned she probably rolled her eyes at that, the same way Gerri would have done.
Roman glanced back down at his watch, deciding it was time to wrap up the conversation and find Gerri. “Tell the wifey I said hello,” he announced, catching the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone. Roman was more observant than she had given him credit for. “Roman,” Lily paused, biting down on her lip. “Yeah?” he asked, phone pressed against his ear as he looked out across the water as the boat headed towards the pier. “Tell her I know. Just tell her that, she’ll know what it means,” she insisted, her voice softer than it had been at the start of their conversation. “Bye, Lily,” Roman said, waiting a moment before hanging up the phone.
The first pawn had been moved into place.
The conversation with Ebba had turned out to be nothing more than a few questions about the Israeli AI machine learning software. Gerri had seen right through it all as a front for getting Roman by himself. The ‘ tour’ that Nick and Nancy were meant to get had been a glorified walk through a few of the hallways to see some of the overpriced garbage Matsson had filled the office with.
The whole building felt foreboding and Gerri suggested that she might head back to the plane when the trio had regrouped in the empty lobby. She had agreed to let Nick and Nancy wait for Roman to finish up, well aware of the obvious flirtation between the two assistants. They were perhaps as bad at hiding it as she and Roman had been.
Nancy had promised to text as soon as their car would leave the GoJo complex, giving Gerri the peace of mind that someone would make sure Roman would make it back to the plane. Gerri had tried distracting herself by answering the backlog of emails and reading the briefings Alice had prepared for her on the journey back when an email notification appeared at the top of her phone screen.
Lily Kellman
Gerri clicked on the notification before reading the rest of it, watching as the email opened on her screen. The subject line had been left empty. For a second Gerri worried it had been an accident until she saw the text of the email.
‘An olive branch. L x’.
The attachment to the email was simply labelled as ‘ Selina’. Gerri’s finger hovered over the file. Pandora inching closer to the jar. She had seen Selina for a fleeting moment two days earlier and cemented her features into memory from the handful of photos she had seen in the townhouse.
But this was the first time Lily was ever allowing her to see her granddaughter.
The Google Drive folder opened to reveal four sub-folders. Newborn. Age 2. Age 3. Age 4. There was a single file that hadn’t been put into a folder, named ‘ For GG’. Gerri paused for a moment, debating whether now was the right time to open it or not.
But she had waited long enough. Spent two days hiding in the penthouse replaying the events in the townhouse over and over in her head until it made her sick. Until the look on Lily’s face when she asked her daughter if she knew she loved her started to haunt her every time she closed her eyes. Until Lily’s face switched to Roman’s as she told him to leave. As she lashed out and pushed him away instead of giving in and letting him comfort her. Instead of giving in and letting them both have what they had needed.
She clicked the file and watched as the little wheel spun on the screen, showing that the video was loading. The video started auto-playing, showing Selina and Lily standing at a kitchen island in what Gerri assumed was the townhouse. Selina’s hair had been pulled back into a braid, a pink frilly apron covering her clothes, although her hands were covered in flour and dough.
“Mama used to make these with GG and Grandpa Baird,” Lily said in the video, standing over Selina as the little girl pressed the cookie cutters into the dough. Gerri had only ever made the cookies with the girls once. The one Christmas when it had snowed so badly in New York that Logan had closed the office a few days early before the holidays. “Can I bring GG some?” Selina asked, pressing down on the cookie cutter before moving the flower-shaped cookie onto the tray to be baked.
Gerri felt her chin quiver, the first tear threatening to fall. Selina knew who she was. Lily had obviously given her the nickname of “GG”, well aware that she wouldn’t have taken kindly to being called “Granny” or some variation of the term. It made her think of Baird’s mother. She had been a granny with her knitting needles and long pleated skirts.
Baird would have relished being a grandfather. He would have been there from the first time Selina was brought home from the hospital. But everything would have been different if he was still here.
“Maybe someday soon, she’s very busy,” Lily explained, but there was no resentment in her voice. Gerri felt the first tear fall down her cheek. No matter how strained their relationship might have become, Lily hadn’t spoken badly about her to Selina. The little girl knew who “GG” was, even if she had never met her. Gerri knew that was probably more than she deserved.
“Can I show her my fairy wings?” Selina questioned, smiling up at Lily as her mother dug through the box of cookie cutters for another shape for them to use. Lily let out a belly laugh at that, shaking her head as she ran her hand over Selina’s braided hair. “Yes, you can show her your fairy wings,” she smiled, giving Gerri a little insight into the girl. Maybe she was just like Lily at that age - refusing to go anywhere without her ballet slippers or fairy wings on.
Elise’s voice came from behind the camera. “You can show her your Barbies as well,” the older woman suggested, making Gerri smile through her sniffles as Selina’s head shot up. “Barbies!” Selina cheered, earning a laugh from her mothers as Lily held out a cookie cutter in the shape of a Barbie silhouette. The little girl giggled once more before the video re-looped, Lily’s voice coming through again.
Gerri closed her eyes as she let the video play on a loop, pressing the side of the phone against her ear. The tears soaked her cheeks by the time the car pulled back into the airfield.
The other three arrived back at the private jet thirty minutes later. “So we’re just sleeping on the plane, are we?” Roman asked as he headed through the plane towards the seating area at the back where Gerri was sitting next to the window at one of the little booths. Two sets of double seats facing inwards with a table between them.
“No point spending the night and wasting a full day this close to the RECNY ball,” Gerri reminded him, her eyes glancing forward to the front section of the plane where Nick and Nancy were. There was no chance of her second assistant saving her this time.
They both knew how ridiculous it was to have travelled all this way for one meeting, but there was no point hanging around in Norway any longer than they needed to be there. Though perhaps expensive hotel rooms with their assistants next door would’ve taken them back to their roots. “Suppose you’re right,” Roman agreed, shuffling awkwardly on his feet as he contemplated whether he should sit down next to her or let the table act as no man’s land to keep them apart.
Gerri bit the side of her lip for a moment as she turned her phone in her hand. “You spoke to Lily, didn’t you?” she asked, knowing that something must have triggered the email that her eldest daughter had sent her. “Yes,” Roman confessed, hoping that it meant the woman had been in touch with her mother already. “How do you know?” he asked, hoping that whatever had transpired had been a positive step forward for them.
Gerri started the video, handing her phone over to Roman. He laughed at the sight of Lily in the pink apron, Selina next to her. The two of them made him wonder what that sight looked like when Lily was Selina’s age and it was Gerri overseeing her daughter’s baking activities.
“You sure she’s not actually Lily’s kid?” Roman asked, the corner of his lips pulling into a smile as he watched the little girl cutting the cookies out of the dough. The video kept playing on Gerri’s phone as he sat himself down next to her in the booth, “I think the looks are just a happy coincidence,” Gerri observed, letting herself smile as she watched the video over Roman’s shoulder as it looped once more before he handed the phone back to her. “She told me to tell you that she knows. I don’t know what that means exactly, but she said you’d understand,” he recounted as he relaxed next to her. At least she wasn’t going to be spending the entire journey back ignoring him.
Gerri thought back to the conversation in Lily’s townhouse. Her feeble attempt at trying to mend the bridges by telling Lily she loved her. She had spent at least half that night wondering if Lily still believed that to be a lie. Gerri nodded her head slowly, feeling a lump start to form at the back of her throat. Lily knew. Perhaps she hadn’t always known - but she knew now.
“I hope you get to see her soon,” he offered, nodding his head towards the phone that was sitting between them. “Roman,” Gerri paused, knowing that her own stubbornness meant that she wouldn’t have been the one to make the first move. Lily probably wouldn’t have done it either. “Thank you - for trying,” she acknowledged, knowing that Roman was the only reason she had been given those photos and videos from Lily. The knowledge that Lily had given that olive branch - because of Roman - made everything hurt a little less.
“I’d do anything for you, Ger,” he reminded her, his voice sounding more sincere than Gerri had ever heard it. Gerri looked away, unable to meet his eye as she turned her attention to the view out the window as the plane headed to the runway. Her lips parted but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Couldn’t find the strength within herself to apologise.
“That seemed to go well. With Matsson, I mean,” Gerri observed, thinking of how the man who had overseen a failed rocket launch never would have been able to finesse his way through a meeting with the likes of Matsson. She had never doubted him. If there was one thing she knew about Roman, it was that he was a better corporate performer than most people would give him credit for.
“Yeah, sure,” Roman agreed, knowing she would want to know what had been said when she left the room. “What did he want to talk to you about? I don’t get why this had to be a face-to-face,” she questioned as the private jet accelerated down the runway before taking off, heading for cruising altitude.
“Patricide,” Roman replied simply. Gerri raised an eyebrow, though the answer didn’t seem to shock her as much as Roman had expected it to. “Wouldn’t want a paper trail on that,” she mused, suddenly understanding why Matsson had wanted to see Roman. But why had he insisted on her coming along or something?
“I reckon he’s secretly a serial killer or something,” Roman offered, not wanting to have to divulge too much of his conversation with Matsson just yet. He would tell Gerri at the right time. It didn’t serve her interests to know just yet. “That would explain the whole vampire thing he’s got going on,” she agreed with a smirk, now thinking of how easy it was to picture the GoJo office as a vampire’s lair. Roman inched closer to her, lips hovering next to her ear as he whispered to her. “Do you think he really drinks blood?” he asked sincerely.
Gerri laughed at that. The same way she’d laugh at a screwball comedy or when Roman would do his best impression of Gene Kelly in ‘The Pirate’. “It honestly wouldn’t shock me,” she admitted between laughs, shaking her head. Roman smiled at her, watching as the tension seemed to release from her shoulders. “It’s good to hear you laugh again,” he admitted, watching as Gerri suppressed a smile before turning her head to look out the window as the seat belt sign turned off above their heads.
At the front of the plane, Nick was looking through the partition at Gerri and Roman. The air hostesses hadn’t closed over the curtains yet, so he could see straight through to where the couple were sitting side by side.
“Do you think everything is okay with them?” he asked Nancy, the woman looking up from her copy of Harper’s Bazaar. That sort of question wasn’t unusual. Nick always asked her about Roman and Gerri. Nancy simply shrugged it off as him being a typical man who couldn’t see beyond the end of his own nose. She never thought too much about his probing questions. After all, the four assistants had a front row seat to almost every twist and turn of their relationship.
But those questions had started becoming more frequent. Digger a little deeper than the time before. Nancy just thought it was her paranoia. She wasn’t afraid to admit that was at least a little protective of her boss. After all, Gerri had taken a chance on her.
“I mean, Gerri definitely seems down, but I don’t –” Nancy paused as she finally connected the dots. “Oh shit,” she sighed, digging around her pocket to pull out her phone, opening her text thread with Alice. “What?’ Nick asked, leaning forward in his seat as he took off his seat belt. “She went to see Lily on Saturday. I bet that’s got something to do with it,” Nancy disclosed as she connected to the plane’s WiFi as she started texting with Gerri’s first assistant.
“What’s the big deal with her going to see Lily?” Nick shrugged, not understanding the significance. “Geez, you really do live up to the stereotype of being a man,” Nancy groaned, wondering if Nick could ever see beyond the end of his nose. “They’ve got a complicated relationship. Plus, Alice and I are betting that there’s something Lily is keeping from Gerri,” she explained, setting her phone down onto the table between them as she opened her water bottle.
“Oh, you mean the kid,” Nick concluded coolly as he scooped up a handful of M&Ms from the box behind him. Nancy choked on her water, coughing as she patted her hand against her chest to try to catch her breath. “Excuse me?” she exclaimed, eyes bulging as she looked at Nick as if he had developed a second head. “Wait, I know something Nancy Drew doesn’t know?” Nick sniggered as he shook his head, throwing an M&M back and catching it in his mouth as Nancy sat looking at him open-mouthed. “My father is friends with Elise. She’s got a kid - must be like three or four years old,” he revealed, part of him amused by the fact that he had known something neither of the other three assistants had heard about.
“Well, that would do it,” Nancy announced with an exasperated sigh as she glanced back through the plane once more. Part of her couldn’t imagine Gerri as a grandmother. She often struggled to imagine her as a mother. She started tapping away on her phone screen, texting Alice to let her know she had been right. Nancy wasn’t sure how Alice had been so confident in her assumption that Lily had a child, especially when she had just laughed it off as a silly idea. Had Alice known somehow? There was something about it all that felt off to Nancy.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Nancy protested, having recovered from the shock. “Slipped my mind,” Nick shrugged as he kicked off his oxford shoes, getting comfortable for the seven hour journey back to New York. “And that’s why you can’t be my Watson,” she retorted, clearly annoyed at him for having kept that particular tidbit of information from her. “You’re way more of a Jessica Fletcher than a Sherlock, Nanc,” Nick observed, smiling to himself as Nancy bit the inside of her cheek before lifting her magazine to cover her face. He knew her well enough to know she’d be smirking on the other side of it.
Gerri fell asleep somewhere between the coasts of Iceland and Greenland. Her head tilted against the window, at an awkward angle that would leave her shoulder tense and neck aching for several days after.
It wasn’t the first time Roman had watched Gerri sleeping. He could only hope it wouldn’t be the last time. He wondered if this was the first proper sleep she was getting since their argument.
He was about to go and fetch a pillow when Gerri shifted in her sleep and Roman moved instinctively to put his arm around her. It was no different than being back in the penthouse - when Gerri would fall asleep mid-way through a black and white movie she had already seen twenty times before. She’d always fall asleep after a martini, somewhere been reciting the lines of Myrna Loy and scolding him for not appreciating William Powell enough.
The private jet seats were configured to be pushed back slightly as a two-seater, rather than individual seats. Roman pushed down on the leaner at his side, the seats tilting back to just the right angle for them to lean back without hurting their backs. He reached up to take the blanket that had been folded over the back of their seats, draping it over Gerri as she slept. His breathing started to match hers as he yawned, the events of the last three days catching up with him.
Roman wasn’t surprised that she woke up before him. It was just like in the penthouse. If he ignored the passing air hostesses and the assistants, he could almost fool his mind into believing they were still there. She had put the blanket over him this time, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she read through a briefing document on her computer screen. Though Roman thought he could see a Google Drive folder open in the background, a tab with a dozen or so photo thumbnails taking up a small section of the screen.
“Is breakfast ready?” he yawned, his eyes adjusting to the bright lights of the cabin. They were brighter than the lights in the penthouse’s master bedroom. Gerri rolled her eyes at that. Almost nothing woke Roman up faster than the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. “I thought your nose could sniff out a croissant from a mile away,” she poked, watching as Roman stretched his arms out like a cat as he shook the sleep off him. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked, yawning as the air hostess walked towards them with a black tray. It took every ounce of his self-control to sit up straight in his seat instead of curling into her side. They weren’t in the penthouse anymore.
The air hostess put down two napkins before placing their mugs next to them on a coaster.
Gerri cringed as she pulled the coffee mug away from her lips. It was bordering on being hot milk with a dash of coffee to it. Roman reached over to take the coffee mug from her hand. “Go back to shouting at someone over email again,” he suggested, waving his hand towards the laptop screen as Gerri’s brow frowned at him. “Just get me something drinkable, Roman,” she instructed, popping her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose as she turned back to the computer.
Roman disappeared down into the next cabin where the air hostesses had been making their drinks. It was five minutes and three emails later that he reappeared again with a smirk on his face. The same smirk he wore the time he managed to smash a $300 bottle of La Mer serum and came to apologise with two new bottles.
“I fixed it,” he announced, placing a different coffee cup down in front of her, an extra napkin in his other hand. He had already scribbled something on it. He’d wait for the right moment to slip it into her bag. “Thank you,” Gerri acknowledged him with a nod, her hand wrapping around the coffee cup for a moment before bringing it to her lips. It was just how she liked it. A little milk - one splash, no more and no less - and one spoonful of sugar.
“Sorry that there’s no pancakes,” he added with a smile, watching her smirk into her coffee mug as she shook her head. “Don’t think they’d appreciate you setting the fire alarm off at 35,000 feet,” she joked as she reached out to take a pecan danish from the pastry tray the air hostess had left down while Roman was away. “That was one time!” he protested, trying to reach for the same danish before Gerri slapped his fingers away. “That’s why you order them in,” Gerri reminded him, bringing the danish to her lips as Roman tried to avoid watching the crumbs fall down the silk of her shirt. “I’ll learn how to make them someday,” he insisted, eyes in front of him as he took a long sip of his lukewarm coffee.
That was a promise. Someday he’d stand in the kitchen of that penthouse and make her pancakes with fresh berries and honey. He’d make her breakfast while she was still sleeping in their bed. They had never called it that. Never called anything theirs - but it had felt like that.
The private jet landed back in New York fifty minutes later. Roman carried their bags out as Gerri thanked the two assistants, his napkin already smuggled into the top of her bag. Gerri reminded both assistants that they could spend the next day working from home and that they weren’t expected in the office. She wasn’t shocked to see Alice and Emily waiting for Nick and Nancy when they got off the plane.
“I’ll take this over for you,” Roman offered, still holding her travel bag in his hand as he nodded towards the waiting Aston Martin. Fredrick - the ever reliable Englishman - was waiting for her. Gerri stopped by the door of the car, one hand on the handle as she turned to look at him. Roman had waved Fredrick back into the car after he put Gerri’s bag into the boot, making it clear he needed a minute to speak to her before Fredrick could take her back to the penthouse.
But it seemed Gerri had something of her own to say.
“I spoke to Willa, she’s got a friend who will help you with the RECNY ball plan,” Gerri announced, forcing her voice to stay even as she convinced herself this was still the right thing to do. Roman’s heart dropped at that. Whatever moments they had shared on the plane had just been brushed under the carpet. He met the withering gaze of the interim CEO as she waited expectantly for him to reply.
“If that’s what you want Gerri,” he agreed unwillingly, holding the door open as Gerri moved to get inside. “It is, but I know it’s not what you want,” Gerri acknowledged, turning her face away from him as she got into the car. It was a half-lie, but a kinder lie nonetheless. She didn’t want it either. Gerri knew it wasn’t what she wanted but none of that mattered. It never mattered what she wanted. “No, Ger, I can’t say it is,” Roman confessed as he put his hand down over the open partition where the window glass sat as the door shut, stopping her from rolling up the window.
Their eyes met for a moment and Roman felt the events of the day catch up with him. “You’re my fucking Everest, Ger, I’m not going to be okay with that,” Roman confessed, his voice breaking as he watched Gerri look away from him. “And I need you to see that this can work,” he pleaded, not wanting to be put in a situation where they had to follow through with the original plan. He couldn’t go through with it now. Even if it was what Gerri wanted.
Gerri felt her resolve start to crumble as she willed herself to keep looking straight ahead. Eyes fixed on the back of the tan leather seat in front of her. She knew she would break if she looked at him. Would crumble up like yesterday’s newspaper and fall apart under the weight of it all. The pain bleeding through like the ink of words that couldn’t be taken back.
“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be, Roman,” she implored, chipping at the polish on her thumb as she kept her eyes fixed on her Manolos. Roman knew there was no point pushing the subject any further. Not today anyway. “Text me when you get home, so I know you’re there,” he requested as he tapped space above the window glass before he stepped away from the car. ‘There without me’ he thought. He knew every detail of the apartment as if he had lived in it all his life. That safe haven sixteen floors above Manhattan where it seemed as though they could hide out for an eternity.
The car’s engine started and the windows rolled up. Roman was gone from her view by the time the car pulled away from the private jet.
Gerri caught sight of something poking out at the top of her bag. A little cocktail napkin. The same one the air hostess had put on the table when she served their drinks. There was Roman’s chicken scratch handwriting staring back up at her.
I love you.
That broke her all over again.
Roman was - to borrow a phrase from Zelda Fitzgerald - a necessity and a luxury. Something she’d have to find a way to live without, but that she simultaneously couldn’t imagine a future without. He had gotten under her skin. But they didn’t have a future. Not one in their current circumstances. It was one thing for Lily to be giving her an olive branch, but there were too many chess pieces in play. The stakes would only get higher with every move. Her need for him getting stronger as he continued wiggling his way into every fragment of her life.
They had been doomed from the start. There was no point believing anything else.
Gerri turned her phone in her hand, going to the pinned text thread at the top of her iMessage as the car pulled away.
She typed the two words. Deleted them.
Typed them again. Deleted them.
Typed them once more.
Then hit send.
I’m sorry.
Chapter 16: Versace Dresses The Mistress
Notes:
We’re at the start of our RECNY ball trilogy! I’m posting this very early on my birthday like the Virgo that I am. This chapter has a little of everything in it - whether you’re looking for a touch of angst or a little fluff. There’s also lots of hints for where the third act of this fic is heading. Look out for the breadcrumbs!
If you’re reading ‘Stardust’ (my favourite fic!), you might recognise a reference in this chapter that was also in the latest chapter of that fic. I also know some of you are visual readers and there are a lot of fashion references in this chapter. I’m going to drop the links into the author’s note at the end to avoid spoiling any of the plot, while still giving you the visuals.
Anywho, without further ado….
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The last three days had been some of the worst of Roman Roy’s life. Gerri had acted as if he didn’t exist. Alice and Nancy had conveniently filled her diary with every meeting imaginable. Every time he called her phone it went to voicemail - until her inbox became full and he couldn’t leave her another one. His texts went unanswered. The 183 messages he had sent in response to her “I’m sorry” text message that she had sent after getting off the plane from Norway.
He had come to pick her up to take her to the hotel to start getting ready for the RECNY ball when he found her office empty. “Where’s the boss at this time?” Roman groaned, turning to look from the abandoned office to Gerri’s first assistant. “Gerri’s in a meeting till 2pm then we’re going with her to the Ritz Carlton, Nancy is away to the meeting with her,” Alice explained, her eyes focused on the little compact mirror in front of her as she tried to tweeze her eyebrows.
Most of the executive floor was empty - except for a few mid-level staff who hadn’t made the guest list and had to see out the rest of the working day. Roman glanced over to the other desk where Emily was curing her gel nails under a little white disk-style device.
Did their assistants live here?
“Gerri left this for you,” Alice announced, picking up the beige manila folder from the side of her desk, holding it out for him to take, her eyes still fixed on the compact mirror. Roman knew what was inside it. The NDA for the escort to sign. One of the only things Gerri had spoken to him about since their return from Norway. He had been given strict instructions to get it signed as early into the conversation as possible. “Thanks, Alice,” Roman acknowledged, tucking the folder into the front of his leather satchel. She really expected him to go through with it then.
Emily finished putting the top coat on her index finger, placing it under the blue light before looking up at her boss. “Roman, do you even have anything to wear?” she asked, elevator eyes looking him up and down to make it clear what he was wearing wasn’t RECNY ball appropriate. “Yeah, I have a suit being couriered to the hotel,” Roman reminded her, thinking of the trusty Tom Ford suit he had picked out from his closet the night before. Originally he had thought of going suit shopping with Gerri. But like everything else that had gone out the window after her birthday.
“I’ll make sure it’s in your suite when you get there,” Emily offered, moving her hand out from under the light as she applied another coat of polish to a different nail. “I’ve also emailed you the latest copy of your speech. It’ll be on the teleprompter, but read through it at least once, won’t you, Roman?” she requested, missing the eye roll that her boss had sent her way.
The last thing Roman wanted to do was give a fucking speech at the RECNY ball. He looked through the glass into Gerri’s empty office. The last three days had been spent with her trying to avoid him at every corner. That only made it worse. “Look, I need to go for a walk, I’ll see you idiots there,” he announced, picking up his leather duffle from the floor as he made his way towards the elevator. “Make sure Nick doesn’t take a fucking cardiac arrest or something when he sees Nancy,” he shouted over his shoulder as the elevator doors opened. Those two couldn’t be any less obvious. Nick looked at Nancy the same way Roman looked at Gerri. No one else mattered when she walked into a room.
Roman found himself aching for a cigarette. But cigarettes reminded him of Gerri. Everything reminded him of her. She was an inescapable essence that seemed set to haunt his every waking moment. Not even in sleep could he escape her. No. She was always far more vivid in his dreams. Always in the penthouse apartment. Almost always in the bedroom he had considered theirs for almost six weeks. There was no escaping her.
The idea entered his head somewhere between 6th Avenue and 37th Street. He wanted to buy Gerri a gift. Something more extravagant than a pair of Manolos or gourmet pancakes. Something she could wear. Something that showed her this wasn’t all a game to him. That what had started out as a little white lie had turned into something that was the beginning and end of everything.
Maybe that was why men bought jewellery. It might be a primal need to mark their territory or a feeble attempt to make a statement where words were not enough. It was one thing to say “ I love you” over pancakes and coffee. It was another to put a string of diamonds around someone’s neck. Diamonds were as close a man could come to wrapping a string around the moon and tying it up with a little silk ribbon. It was time to talk to Gerri in a language she’d understand. And that language came with a price tag.
Roman bypassed Tiffany’s. That was too obvious of a choice. Tiffany’s was a safe choice - the sort of place men shopped for their girlfriends when they were 24 and planning to blow half their pay cheque on a silver charm bracelet. And the seventh-floor of the 5th Avenue flagship - the high jewellery department - would only raise too many eyebrows. Last thing he needed was his picture ending up on TMZ buying diamonds at Tiffany’s.
Van Cleef wouldn’t do either. Roman walked right by its Fifth Avenue store without even glancing in the Gatsby-esque window as he headed towards The Plaza. He wouldn’t string a chain of those overdone clover leaves around her neck. Gerri wasn’t like every other woman with a Range Rover and superiority complex in New York. Van Cleef was best left to the nouveau riche. The lightbulb moment came as he turned off Fifth Avenue and walked past the Tom Ford that he preferred to shop at on Madison Avenue.
De Beers. More understated than Harry Winston but with a timeless elegance that only a Hitchcock blonde could personify. That only his Hitchcock blonde could personify. Tiffany & Co was for the impressionable girlfriend. Van Cleef for the long-suffering wife. De Beers for the quasi love of your life.
The piece had to be impressive without looking like he had just raided Elizabeth Taylor’s tomb. Something that an acquaintance might assume Gerri had bought for herself, but that those with a well-trained eye would spot instantly. Something to raise eyebrows and bring forth a few “I love your necklace, was it a gift?” from society gossips. Shiv would be at the front of that queue, Kerry trailing behind her.
The security guard unlocked the door as he approached, holding it open for him as he walked into the open planned store. “How can I help you today, Sir?” a blonde haired sales associate asked as she greeted him from behind one of the large glass display cases. The spotlights were positioned at just the right angle to give the diamonds a hypnotic feel. Roman had never paid attention to diamonds before, but now? Now each little diamond had him imagining what it would look like on her. What they’d look like against her skin. What they’d look like against La Perla silk.
“I’m looking to buy a last-minute gift for someone,” Roman explained, his eyes looking around the large glass cabinets. The security guard at the front returned to his place by the door, the lock clicking into place. “I just want something classy, you know?” he explained to the older woman. She was probably around Gerri’s age - maybe a few years older than her. He trailed after her towards the main display case in the centre of the shop floor - a circular display with a missing section at the back to allow the sales associate to move in and out.
“Is it for a partner or a family member?” the woman asked, inviting Roman to take a seat on one of the tall bar stools in front of the glass cabinet. “Partner,” Roman replied after a moment of consideration. The word feeling funny coming from his lips. They had never used labels before - least of all anything like ‘girlfriend’ or ‘partner’. But what could he even call Gerri? The fake girlfriend he had ended up unintentionally moving in with and playing house with for six weeks before she decided to dump his ass for real.
“Well, you can never go wrong with an eternity line necklace,” The sales assistant - Janet - Roman finally clocked the business cards in front of the display case. She disappeared behind the glass display with its gold edging to unlock another cabinet, reappearing with a grey velvet tray with several necklaces and a stand to set them each on.
“We offer several different carat weights, but I recommend going with a 14.5 carat total. It delivers just the right brilliance without taking away from the graduated look of the diamonds,” Janet explained, pointing through the glass towards the traditional diamond necklace.
Roman had seen a hundred just like it around the necks of the wives of every man with a Patek Philippe in New York. It was simple. A safe bet. Too much like a token. One step up from giving Gerri $20 for the powder room. That necklace wouldn’t do. It was stunning, yes. But too plain. Too expected. Something the eye could simply wander over without a second glance.
It was then that it caught his eye. The necklace sitting alone on a higher stand, the diamonds sparkling against the black velvet. A work of art worthy of its name. The necklace was large enough to be spotted across a room without looking grotesquely expensive. There were several dozen round and pear-shaped diamonds that reminded Roman of water droplets - or perhaps shooting stars.
“What about that one?” he asked, nose pressed up against the glass as he watched the prism of light escape from the largest of the diamonds at the heart of the necklace. It reminded Roman of the sort of necklace the leading lady would wear in one of Gerri’s black and white movies. “That’s a rather extravagant choice,” Janet warned, looking Roman up and down as if trying to work out if he could afford to fork out for the eye-watering sum attached to the necklace in question. Roman wasn’t prepared to be put off. At least, if nothing else, this confirmed that Janet didn’t recognise him. “Tell me about this necklace,” he encouraged, moving his face back from the glass, but his eyes stayed fixed on the necklace. He could picture her in it. The way the stones would sparkle against her skin, adding a luminosity to her that would have an almost halo-like effect.
“It’s the Assana necklace,” Janet announced, turning the key in the display case to pull out the shelf, lifting the necklace stand out to place it on top of the glass. “It’s inspired by the ancient belief that diamonds were formed by the stars, becoming drops of water when they reached the earth,” she explained, touching one of the diamond droplets as she explained the necklace’s origins. There were the stars again. Gerri’s stars. The same stars she used to cry under.
Perhaps Roman could finally bring the stars back to her. This necklace wasn’t just some string of diamonds to flash the cash. It was a declaration of intent.
“It has 60 round pear and marquise-shaped diamonds in graduated sizes. The centre piece is a pear-shaped diamond at over 2 carats. The total weight of this necklace is just under 37.5 carats,” Janet continued, turning the suede stand to showcase the necklace from different angles.
Roman didn’t need to hear anything else. The stars were coming home. By now Madeline was boarding a plane from Rome for New York and Lily, along with Selina, felt close enough for Gerri to reach out and touch. “I’ll take it,” he announced, fingers tapping on the glass before he started digging around his leather satchel for his wallet.
“Would you like me to gift wrap it?” Janet asked enthusiastically with a smile that told Roman she had probably made more on the commission from the sale of that necklace than she had earned in the last three months. “I’ll be giving it to her tonight, so no need for any frills,” Roman insisted, part of him not wanting to risk standing around waiting for it to be wrapped up. He glanced over his shoulder, as though expecting Shiv or Marcia to come striding in out of the blue. If there was one thing he knew about New York, it was that the very last person you wanted to see was already somewhere around the next corner.
Janet secured the box clasps before placing it inside the bag, doing up the handles with a ribbon before slipping the De Beers branded bag into an inconspicuous white bag. “Is there anything else I can help you with this afternoon, Sir?” she asked, placing the bag on top of the glass cabinet as she finished up inputting the purchase into the system.
Roman’s eyes momentarily glanced at the trays of diamond engagement rings resting behind the glass beneath his hands. While there had only been a handful of necklaces, there were dozens of rows of engagement rings. A chocolate box of emerald cut diamonds and fancy coloured stones.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Janet announced, placing the card machine down in front of him. Roman inserted his American Express Centurion card, a shiver going straight to his dick at the idea of dropping $490,000 on a diamond necklace for Gerri on a random Friday afternoon. But he’d let her raid every cent out of his bank accounts if it made her happy. Anything to be back in that penthouse with her.
“She’s a very lucky lady,” Janet smiled at him, handing him back his credit card with a paper copy of the receipt, slipping the larger one in its De Beers branded portfolio into the white bag. “Make sure you come back to me when you’re ready to buy one of those,” she observed, nodding her head towards the display case of diamond engagement rings to her left.
Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah, sure, of course, Janet,” he mumbled, putting his wallet away into his blazer pocket before grabbing the shopping bag and his case. He supposed it was only natural to assume he would be back looking at engagement rings after spending that much on a necklace.
“Sir, do you have a car to pick you up? I can’t let you just walk out onto the street with that necklace,” the security guard warned, nodding his head towards the almost half a million dollars worth of diamonds in the bag Roman was carrying. “Ugh, sure, fair point. Let me call my driver,” Roman agreed, the reality of his rather extravagant impulse purchase finally hitting him. That was the most expensive ‘ walk’ he had ever taken around New York.
Fredrick arrived ten minutes later, having already dropped Gerri off at the Ritz Carlton. “Buying the missus an apology gift?” the chauffeur asked as he greeted Roman, holding open the door for him. “Some fucking apology gift,” Roman muttered, putting the white bag in first before getting into the car as Fredrick got into the driver’s seat, setting off towards the hotel.
The RECNY ball being at the Ritz Carlton meant that Waystar Royco had taken a block booking of rooms and suites. The Presidential Suite had been set aside for Gerri and Roman as Interim CEO and COO with most of the rest of the floor blocked out for board members and VIPs. The four so-called “Kellman-Roy” assistants had managed to convince the events department to give them rooms on the floor below the Presidential Suite.
Nancy trailed behind Gerri as the concierge team gave them a tour of the Presidential Suite after checking them in. The hotel was already a buzz of activity, the events team in the final stages of set-up for that evening. Gerri silently counted down the minutes until it would all be over. Until everything came to an end.
“Oh, swanky! The Presidential Suite,” Nancy announced as the concierge staff left the suite after their quick tour. “I feel like one of those influencers at Fashion Week. This place is bigger than my whole apartment,” she gawked around the suite, digging through her Longchamp tote before pulling out a small Kodak 35mm camera. “Can I…?” she paused as Gerri’s phone started to ring.
“Go ahead, Nanc, take your pictures,” Gerri smiled, nodding her head at her second assistant as she dug through her blazer pockets for her personal phone. Lily Kellman. The display picture for her contact had been changed to one from the folder Lily had shared with her. The photo showed the blonde woman standing on the beach with Selina in her arms, sharing an ice cream under perhaps the largest sunhat she had ever seen.
“Hello, Lily,” Gerri greeted as she answered the phone, sitting down on one of the two sofas in the centre of the lounge. “Hi, Mom. Are you at the hotel?” Lily asked, the sound of an engine in the background made it obvious she was in a car. “Yeah, I’m just about to start getting ready,” she replied, glancing over to the left where her overnight bag and dress were waiting on her. Alice had already seen to it that both were waiting on her with Roman’s suit hanging on the other side of the lounge. “Elise and I are on our way. We’ve booked a room for the night,” Lily explained, another voice in the background coming through in a hushed whisper.
Gerri stopped herself from asking if Selina was with them. Lily would never bring her daughter that close to a Waystar event, but part of her wished she could have asked. She had spent every evening since getting back from Norway exploring that Google Drive folder. It turned out to be a treasure trove. Lily had documented almost every moment of Selina’s life, though sometimes it was clear that it was Elise behind the camera. Capturing the candid moments of Lily and their daughter.
“Oh, that’s great, Lily,” Gerri responded, settling on that answer as a safer bet. Her eyes focused on Nancy for a moment as the assistant stepped out onto the terrace balcony with her film camera. “Mom, just text me the suite you’re in and we’ll go straight up there,” Lily instructed, her car speeding through the Manhattan traffic towards the Ritz Carlton. “Do not get into your dress,” she quickly added as an afterthought. Gerri raised an eyebrow at that, glancing over at the dress she had picked. It was a simple off-the-rack grey evening dress. As plain as they came. Designed to help her blend into the background as much as possible. This was one night where Gerri didn’t want to be the centre of attention - not with what was going to happen by the end of it. “Okay, Lily, I’ll wait for you,” Gerri agreed, before the line went dead a moment later.
Lily hung up the phone, scrolling through it to open her text thread, tapping on her assistant’s name. “Remind me to call the babysitter before we leave our room,” she announced, feeling Elise shift in her seat beside her in the back of the chauffeur-driven S-Class Mercedes. “Lils, you have like fifteen alarms on your phone to remind you to call her,” Elise chuckled with a shake of her head, well aware that Lily was always the most anxious of the two of them when it came to leaving Selina overnight. Elise often wondered if it was a fall-out of a childhood spent never knowing whether her own parents were coming or going. She could sympathise with that, at least as far as her own father was concerned.
“I don’t want Selina thinking I’ve forgotten about her,” Lily revealed, confirming her wife’s suspicions. “She can go one night without you reading her that book,” Elise assured her, biting her lip at the blonde’s affronted look. “I don’t believe Peter Pan takes nights off,” Lily reminded her with a sigh, shaking her head as she turned to look out the window at the passing streets of Manhattan. Elise looked down to see Lily fiddling with the clasp of her Cartier watch - a tell-tale sign that her anxiety was on the rise. It was at Gerri’s birthday that Elise had realised where Lily had picked up the habit. Both mother and daughter were habitual fidgeters, digging their nails into their skin or jewellery to ground them during stressful moments.
Elise knew exactly what had put her wife’s teeth on edge. “So, how are you feeling about seeing them all?” she asked, eyes fixed on Lily as the blonde continued looking out the window of the car. “How would you feel walking into the lion’s den?” Lily muttered, kissing her teeth as she shook her head. She had spent the last five years putting as much distance between herself and the Roys as was possible in New York City. Now she was about to walk into a room full of them with public enemy number one included.
Elise pursed her lips, part of her hoping the evening would all go to plan. It was a high risk, high reward scenario - on every front. “This could be the last RECNY ball - at least one with Logan at the head,” she thought aloud, watching out of the corner of her eye as Lily turned back to look at her. The blonde didn’t look so convinced.
“The only thing that can tear down a family like the Roys is itself. You’ve always told me that,” Lily recalled, shifting in her seat as she crossed her legs, turning towards her wife. Elise knew that all too well. The dispute between her grandfather and his youngest brother had almost cost the family their fortune. A fortune originally made in oil and property before building a publishing empire. Almost gone in an instant over a petty family feud and the question of succession. “But Logan’s sold his soul to the devil. I don’t see him ever leaving unless it’s in a box,” Lily added cynically. She had endured enough emotional trauma from the head of Logan Roy’s table to ever be able to picture a world without his far-reaching shadow in it.
Elise shook her head, the theory growing in her head as she put the pieces together. She knew the rumours and speculation that surrounded the supposed GoJo deal - and the questions around the future of the Roy family’s involvement. Perhaps there was a way for wrongs to be put right. “I think there’s a world where Waystar goes on without Logan - frankly without any of the Roys. Especially with this GoJo deal,” she suggested, starting to see exactly who could rise to the top in this scenario. The candidate that Lukas Matsson would want to align himself with.
“You’re not telling me something, Elise,” Lily prodded, reaching out to take her wife’s hand across the arm rest. Elise knew there was no point hiding her suspicions from Lily. Perhaps it might put Lily a little ease - might even make this evening with its demons and trojan horses somewhat enjoyable. Elise slipped her fingers through Lily’s, squeezing the younger woman’s hand as she turned in her seat to look at her face-to-face.
“What I’m hearing is that there’s speculation the deal could flip and GoJo ends up acquiring Waystar - not the other way around. But there are doubts around whether GoJo has the capital to make such a move, especially if they’re not able to get their gambling licence approved to bring their sports betting stateside,” Elise explained, watching as the gears started to turn in the other woman’s head as she slowly started to process the information. “And what does this mean for my mother and Roman?” Lily asked, hearing her heart beating in her ears as she tried to imagine a Waystar without a Roy at the head of it. But could you truly ever cut off a serpent’s head to stop the venom dripping through after they had already sunk their teeth in?
“Waystar would no longer be under Roy control. If the deal went through, Roman and his siblings would be bought out of whatever percentage of the company Logan gave them - they might get a cash and stock offer on it but…” Elise paused, seeing the realisation fully dawn on Lily’s face. “Logan’s gone,” she whispered, feeling the weight start to lift off her chest. The demon on her shoulder starting to fall back into the shadows.
“I don’t know much about Matsson. I’ve only met him once or twice, but he’s European, he looks down his nose at the uncultured Americans,” Elise continued, making a mental note to get one of her assistants to put a call into Matsson at the start of the week. It might help to have an inside line to him - if her other suspicion was true.
The penny dropped then for Lily. “You think he’ll need an American CEO,” she declared, her blood pressure running higher as she took in the implications of Elise’s words. “And there’s no reason why that couldn’t be your mother,” Elise pointed out, knowing that Gerri’s name would have been top of the list of candidates for the role. She had just enough links to the Roys for it to be a similar transition but was separate enough to not be considered a direct family member. Even as Roman’s partner. Elise wondered if perhaps revenge came with a blonde bob and wearing Manolos. There would be something symbolic in Gerri surviving Logan Roy and getting the CEO position as her reward. Logan had built his empire not through hard work but draining the talents of others and breaking their necks in the process. A few lucky deals had got him the capital he needed to steamroll the company but it was people like Baird who had made it what it was. Logan was the General who was more than happy to take the praise for the work of his foot soldiers.
“You know Logan was only able to expand as quickly as he did because my father found every legal loophole going,” Lily pointed out, vocalising the thoughts that were already running through Elise’s head. “Matsson would bring in a culture change as well,” Elise added, knowing that Waystar under Lukas Matsson would be an entirely different company. One where a grandmother could split her time between her corporate responsibilities and her family life. “You know what the Europeans with their free healthcare and six-week summer breaks are like,” Elise continued with a roll of her eyes.
Lily tapped her free hand against the arm rest. “Say whatever it is you want to say, Elise,” she instructed, her mind already overthinking the possibility of what life could be like with a Waystar Royco without Logan Roy at the helm. A world where perhaps - just perhaps - her mother wouldn’t have to choose. “No reason Gerri couldn’t be CEO and still be Selina’s grandmother - and your mother,” Elise said softly, covering their joint hands with her free one, feeling how cold Lily’s fingers were.
“I don’t want her to have to decide between those two,” Lily confessed, knowing that it had been that fear which had kept her from going to her mother. It had always been like choosing between two devils. Living a life away from her mother or accepting that having her mother in her life meant entering the Roy inner circle again. “It’s the best possible outcome. Everything your mother sacrificed amounts to something. You put that demon to rest once and for all. And we all start a new chapter,” Elise pressed, squeezing Lily’s hand as she made a silent promise to do whatever she could to bring the plan to fruition. Perhaps it was something she could speak to Roman about.
Grand parties like the RECNY ball were the most intimate ones. It was always easier to slip off unnoticed between the trays of glistening champagne flutes and overeager businessmen with their cheque books.
Lily smirked as she shook her head. “You have this all planned out, don’t you?” she asked, knowing that her wife was always one step ahead of the competition. Elise Ward always got what she wanted - regardless of how many strings had to be pulled or dollars spent to make it happen. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think we’d need an on-call babysitter before going for number 2,” Elise shrugged, lifting Lily’s hand up to her cheek as she leaned against it. She had that look in her eye that told Lily there was no getting around the conversation. “So you’re adamant about that, then?” Lily asked, knowing their discussions around giving Selina a sibling with the help of IVF had so far only been fleeting conversations over bottles of wine or when Elise would get particularly nostalgic for Selina’s baby years. Lily had never known whether she could fully take those conversations at face value - although she knew Elise had explored the option before adopting Elise.
“I think you’d look pretty hot having my baby,” Elise announced, moving Lily’s hand from her cheek as she started to kiss the woman’s knuckles, her red lipstick not smudging against the pale skin. “Has Loewe started doing maternity clothes?” Lily joked, her mind trying to process the second possible bombshell that had just been dropped on her. Even if she had more reason to suspect the second than the first revelation. “I’ll call J.W. up myself to get him to design them for you,” Elise insisted, well aware that no expense would be spared in that scenario. Not that there was ever a budget when it came to things that Lily - or Selina - wanted. The luxury of being in the 1% of the 1%.
“You’re incorrigible,” Lily chuckled as she shook her head, her lips breaking out in a smile that showed her pearly white teeth. “No, darling, I’m just filthy rich,” Elise reminded her, leaning forward to capture her lips in a kiss, lingering there for a moment until Lily started tapping against her chest. “You’ll smudge my lipstick,” Lily scolded, smirking as she dug through her Kelly bag for a compact and her lipstick.
Elise ran her tongue across her top lip as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs as Lily fixed her lipstick. “Anyway - why do we have three dresses with us?” she asked, nodding her head towards the three garment bags that had been put into the front passenger seat as the boot was already full of their other luggage. “One is for Mom,” Lily explained, blotting her lips as she put the compact away again. “Lily,” Elise sighed, not sure how well that would go over with Gerri. “Listen, Elise, knowing my mother she will have chosen something way too safe. She’s the CEO and she’s dating Roman Roy. The woman needs to look the part,” Lily insisted as the car turned into 59th Street, the Ritz Carlton now in her line of sight at the end of the block.
“What did you choose for her?” Elise asked, well aware of her wife’s ability to choose a show stopping dress. “That black Oscar De La Renta we saw the other week,” Lily replied, remembering how she had instantly pictured her mother in the gown when she had first laid eyes on it. There was an Old Hollywood glamour to it that reminded her of the Givenchy dresses of the 1960s. It was the sort of dress that demanded attention. One that would make you turn your head the second they would walk into the room. “Oh with the tulle cape?” Elise asked as the car came to a stop in front of the hotel, their chauffeur getting out of the driver’s seat. “That’s the one,” Lily replied, gathering up her things. “Very modern Lady Macbeth,” Elise mused, wondering if that symbolism had been at least part of the reason why Lily had chosen it as her mother’s RECNY ball gown.
Lily shrugged, checking her reflection once more before getting out of the car. “I have a hunch Roman might deliver on something to go with it,” she explained as Elise walked around the back of the car towards her while the chauffeur saw that their bags were loaded onto the cart with the porter’s help.
It was then that Elise noticed it. She reached out to take Lily’s left hand, turning it over to bring the aquamarine ring into the daylight. Lily’s platinum wedding band was tucked under the stone, though still noticeable by the full circle of diamonds that encased it. “Not very often that you wear that,” Elise observed with a coy smile, her index finger running over the wedding band. Lily rarely wore the wedding band with her engagement ring changing hands depending on where they were going. Perhaps they could finally be a little more public about their own relationship now.
“Thought it was about time I started wearing my wedding ring,” Lily announced, watching the diamonds sparkle in the Manhattan sunlight before she wrapped her hands around Elise’s arm. “You can buy me a third ring as a push present,” she teased, pursing her lips as she led the way into the Ritz Carlton.
Roman had arrived at the Ritz Carlton thirty minutes later than he had originally intended to. Thirty minutes to buy almost $500,000 worth of diamonds wasn’t that bad of a delay on reflection. The inconspicuous white bag made it look as though he had bought something as simple as cupcakes. Roman tried his best to avoid the various Waystar employees roaming around the front of the hotel, the events team running back and forth between the second floor where the ballroom was and the main entrance as vendors continued to arrive.
He spotted Natalia the second he walked into the Contour Gastro lounge just off the lobby. There was something about her that made her stick out. An energy that seemed to compel you to turn your head and find her the second she walked into a room. Natalia was the sort of conventional choice his father would have wanted him to choose. A dark haired beauty who looked as if she had been plucked from somewhere outside the Louvre in Paris. She had that femme fatale look down to a fine art.
Natalia had been Willa’s recommendation. He was still surprised that Gerri had confided in Willa, but stranger things had happened in the last six weeks. Roman knew it would be easier doing this with someone he didn’t know. He could treat this like a little game. Not that he would enjoy it.
He had thought for a brief moment about asking Tabitha, but he wouldn’t do that to Gerri - regardless of the fact this was all fake. That felt too personal. Roman doubted Tabitha would even have agreed to it. He had long suspected that she had her suspicions about his feelings for Gerri as early as Tern Haven. Tabitha would have shook him by the shoulders and told him to put up a fight for Gerri instead of letting everything fall apart.
“I’m Natalia,” the woman introduced herself as Roman arrived at her table, holding her hand out for him to shake. Roman clocked the stack of Cartier Love bracelets on her wrist, hearing them jingle as the metal clacked together. Clearly her line of work paid well. Though there was something about Natalia that told Roman she had a poker face that served her well at the roulette table. “Roman,” he replied, shaking her hand before taking the empty seat across from her at the little round table in the corner of the room. The lounge was relatively empty. There were two older gentlemen at separate tables reading the Financial Times, but the rest of the spacious bar was empty except for the server behind the counter.
Roman took the manila folder out of his bag and set it on the table. He’d bring the NDA up at the right time. But he still had a few hours left to change things. To show Gerri that there was no need to go through with the plan. Perhaps they wouldn’t need Natalia at all and she’d get a handsome paycheque for showing up and looking pretty at a charity function packed to the ceilings with New York’s richest and most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes.
“So, you’re friends with Willa?” he asked, hoping to break a little of the tension on his end. “We’ve done a few plays together,” Natalia revealed, holding her cappuccino mug near her lips. Roman could see the red lipstick marks that had already stained the rim. It reminded him of the way Gerri’s lipsticks always came off on her martini glasses. “...And we knew each other in a past life,” Natalia added a moment later, hands curled around her coffee mug. That was a rather diplomatic way of saying she had been a high-class escort.
Roman shook his head as the server started walking towards their table to take his drink order. He wanted to get in and out of the lobby as quickly as humanly possible. All he needed to do was speak to Natalia and get her to sign the NDA then he’d be hightailing it right up to the suite.
Natalia’s eyes narrowed as she took in the man before him. It was normal for the person at the other side of the table to be nervous, but there was an anxious energy radiating off Roman Roy that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The whole situation struck her as precarious. But it wasn’t her job to ask questions. She was paid more than enough to know when to turn a blind eye. “So, how do you want to play this? You just want to be caught in a compromising situation, right?” she asked, tapping her freshly manicured nails against the wooden table.
“Right, yeah, that,” Roman agreed with an awkward shrug as he ran his hand against the back of his neck. He wouldn’t do anything with her. Couldn’t do anything with her. It just had to look as if he was up to no good. “Just make it look however it needs to. You’re the expert here, not me,” he muttered, shaking his head as he glanced at the clock behind Natalia’s head. Gerri would already be upstairs getting ready. Yet he was down here feeling like he was cheating on her when all he was doing was following her instructions.
“Trust me, this is not the first time I’ve done this, you’ve nothing to worry about,” Natalia assured him, though there was something about this that felt different. There was a hesitancy to Roman’s actions - as though he was a guilty party being dragged in front of a jury. “Is this like your thing that you do?” Roman asked, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Willa had a friend like Natalia in her back pocket. “Plenty of women want to divorce their husbands and keep all the money, it’s a good gig,” Natalia announced with a shrug as she finished her cappuccino.
Roman had been about to hand over the NDA folder when he caught sight of Lily crossing the lobby, walking down the hallway that linked the lounge to the elevators. Elise trailed behind her with a porter wheeling a cart with several garment bags and pieces of hardsided luggage. He watched as Lily pressed the button for the elevator and he wondered for a moment if she was going to see Gerri. There were three garment bags on the cart, but perhaps one was simply a backup or maybe one of them was an olive branch. Lily showing up this early had to be a good sign. It might help put Gerri at ease. The elevator doors closed, hiding the blonde woman and her wife from his view.
“You might have a business brain after all, Natalia,” Roman thought aloud, though his attention was elsewhere. He watched as the number above the elevator doors started to rise, going higher and higher until it reached the top floor. Elise and Lily had gone to Gerri. He had to get going before anyone else saw him in the lounge.
“How do you think I afford my rent?” Natalia asked with a raised eyebrow as she shrugged her shoulders. “So how does this work?” Roman questioned, tapping his foot against the floor as he waited impatiently to leave. “Come find me right after your speech. I’ll deal with the rest,” she instructed, picking up her magazine and flicking through it lazily as if she had been simply talking about the weather. “It’s that simple?” he asked, wondering just how many times Natalia had swindled men and women out of eye watering sums of money with her little games. “You can close your eyes and think of Cate Blanchett for all I care,” Natalia insisted, her eyes focused on the glossy pages of her magazine. She didn’t care who he thought of for the sake of the illusion. $50,000 to make it seem like he was cheating on his girlfriend meant that didn’t matter to her.
“Enjoy the party, Natalia, I’ve gotta find someone,” Roman announced, his impatience getting the better of him as he stood up and gathered his things. He tucked the De Beers bag behind his leather satchel as he stepped into the elevator, pulling out his phone to read over his speech once more. Roman hadn’t written it, of course. Karolina had written most of it under the direction of his father. But Roman wondered if there would be room for a little… improvisation.
But Roman hadn’t realised he had forgotten all about the folder. The NDA sat unsigned in the beige cardboard folder next to Natalia’s lipstick-stained coffee cup. A schoolboy error.
A knock sounded at the door of the Presidential Suite as Gerri finished reapplying her makeup, Nancy standing next to her with a setting spray and lipstick in hand. “That must be Lily,” Gerri announced, setting her mascara down as she stood up from the vanity, calling over her shoulder that the door was open.
“Hello, Mom,” Lily greeted shyly as she stepped into the Presidential Suite, the porter leaving the luggage cart near the door before Elise tipped him. Nancy took that as her cue to leave. “I’ll get out of your hair, Gerri. The girls and I have a room on the fifth floor. Just give us a call if you need anything,” the assistant offered, quickly gathering up her things as she made her way to the door.
Nancy stopped for a second to look at Elise and Lily, shyly waving at them before mentally kicking herself for acting like an awe-struck thirteen year old. Elise Ward only happened to be the chairwoman of the very company she had been dreaming of working for since she was 12-years old, saving up her leftover lunch money to buy Vogue. “See you later!” she called, before hightailing it out of the suite and down the hallway.
Elise and Lily exchanged a bemused smile before Lily stepped forward towards her mother as Gerri finished applying her lipstick. “How are you?” she asked, setting herself down on the armrest of the sofa nearest the vanity. “Nervous, but it’ll pass,” Gerri admitted, not wanting to confess the fact she hadn’t been able to eat anything all day. Perhaps that was why her hands were starting to shake.
“I’m sure it will,” Lily assured her, glancing over to the side of the room where a grey dress was hanging on a velvet hanger. She had been right. The dress her mother had seemingly chosen for tonight was more ‘60-year old mother of the bride’ than ‘CEO with a controversially younger toyboy’. Elise forced herself to turn away as Lily’s face turned up in disgust - as if she had just bitten down on a bitter lemon.
Gerri’s phone distracted her when a text message notification popped up. The background photo was one of her favourites from the collection Lily had sent her. Selina was curled up on Lily’s lap as the pair read what appeared to be Peter Rabbit - the same book she had read to the girls at that age. “Thank you, by the way, for the videos and photos,” she smiled, knowing that while they couldn’t make up for the time she had lost with Selina, they had given her a unique insight into the little girl’s life through Elise and Lily’s eyes.
“No need to thank me. I’ve thought of sending it to you a few times,” Lily confessed, though she had doubted that a Google Drive link was an appropriate way to tell someone they had a grandchild. “Just never found the right moment,” she added, thinking back again to the day she had run into her mother and Alice with Selina as a baby. But dropping that bombshell in the middle of Bloomingdale’s between the holiday shoppers and tourists would have ended with them on the front page of The New York Times. “I’m always adding more to it, so you should keep an eye on it,” Lily suggested, her type A personality meaning that everything from baby photos to colouring pages had been neatly filed away.
Gerri clocked the suitcases and garment bags in the cart near the door as she turned to look at Elise. “Are you staying here for a few days?” she asked, once again wondering if Selina was with them. “Nope, just one night. Your daughter is an overpacker,” Elise announced, having made a beeline towards the table near the balcony doors that had been set up with drinks and fruit platters by the Waystar events team. “Selina is even worse than her. We went to Paris during the summer and I think we had an entire piece of Louis Vuitton luggage just for her books and Barbies. If she was here we’d have another two cases,” she revealed, picking up one of the champagne flutes that had been lined up in a little row next to the ice bucket.
Meanwhile, the offensive dress had finally gotten the better of Lily. “Mom, is that…” Lily paused, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes widened the more she looked at the monstrosity of a dress on the other side of the room. “Please for the love of my sanity tell me that is not what you’re intending to wear,” she pleaded, hands on her hip as she standed to bend over a little, as if the dress was making her nauseous. “What’s wrong with it?” Gerri protested, hands outstretched towards the Ralph Lauren dress sitting on a velvet hanger across the room. “Nothing - other than the fact I’m relatively sure Queen Elizabeth wore it in 1982,” Lily taunted, wondering if someone at Ralph Lauren had been drinking too much kool aid the day they designed that dress.
“Helpful, Lily,” Gerri rolled her eyes, sighing to herself as she started to consider whether the dress was too plain for the RECNY ball. Maybe such an understated dress would only raise more eyebrows. “Good thing I foresaw this happening,” Lily announced, smirking to herself as she turned towards the door, making a beeline for the cart with the garment bags and luggage. She lifted the first one off the little rack, the Oscar De La Renta branded garment bag being almost as tall as her.
“Oh, no. Absolutely not,” Gerri exclaimed, eyes wide as she clocked the logo on the bag. Lily wasn’t someone who did things by half. That meant that whatever was inside that garment bag would make the dress she had originally intended to wear look like a tablecloth. “Mother, with all due respect, you make some incredibly questionable fashion choices,” Lily reminded her, folding the garment bag over her arm. “I saw that helmet hair you had going for a while, thank god your hair grows quickly,” she groaned with a shake of her head. Gerri decided it was best not to comment on that. The helmet hair had been a moment of temporary madness in the hair salon. “Cut it all off”, she had told the hairstylist after a particularly hard day at the office.
“Listen, you’re wearing this, Mom,” Lily announced, handing the black garment bag over to her mother with an assertive look. It was the same look Lily used to wear as a little when she’d stomp her ballet slippers and insist on one more song. There would be no point in arguing with her. “What is this?” Gerri asked, looking at the garment bag that had been put in her arms, searching for the zipper.
“ Oscar De La Renta,” Lily replied, putting her hands on her hips as she once more glanced at the offending dress her mother had originally intended to wear. “Why that brand?” Gerri asked with a sigh as she continued to try to open the garment bag one handed. Lily smirked, looking rather pleased with herself as she stepped forward to unzip the garment bag, revealing the corset of the dress. “Armani dresses the wife. Versace dresses the mistress. Oscar De La Renta dresses the controversially older girlfriend,” Lily explained, lifting the bodice up to show the sweetheart neckline of the black gown.
“Is De La Renta what Elise wears?” Gerri joked, her eyes running over the top of the dress in the garment bag. It was a world apart from the one she had originally chosen for the RECNY ball. This dress was more regal. It had the right balance between a seductive evening dress and a timeless silhouette. A safe choice while being just daring enough. Gerri could see now that the dress had a lower back with a tulle cape coming from each of the shoulder straps.
“Elise is wearing Valentino, I’m wearing Elie Saab,” Lily revealed, nodding her head towards the two garment bags still on the cart. “And who does he dress?” Gerri asked as Lily did up the zip over the Oscar De La Renta dress, taking the garment bag from her mother to hang it over the dress Gerri had originally intended to wear.
“The controversially younger trophy wife,” Elise responded, licking her lips before she tilted her head back as she downed the rest of the champagne. Gerri took that as confirmation of her long-held suspicion. A quick glance at Lily’s hand showed the diamond wedding band tucked under her aquamarine ring. Elise shrugged her shoulders as Lily glared at her in a way that reminded Gerri of Roman when he’d put his foot in it.
“Well, this trophy wife has a date with her Dyson Airwrap, so if you’ll excuse me,” Lily announced as Elise picked up two more champagne glasses, handing one over to Gerri as she walked towards the room. “I think we all need some liquid courage,” Elise suggested in a low whisper as Gerri thanked her, taking the glass straight to her lips.
“Mom, Elise will help you figure out your hair. I think you should pin it up,” Lily called over her shoulder as she disappeared off towards the master bedroom with the leather vanity case of her Airwrap in hand.
Gerri took a sip of her champagne as Elise started to talk about hairstyles and what would work with the dress Lily had chosen. “What was it like?” she asked, stopping Elise in her tracks as the younger woman stood next to her seat at the vanity. “What was what like?” Elise questioned, plugging in Gerri’s hair straighteners. Gerri looked through the mirror at the reflection of the bathroom door, making sure it was shut before asking the question that had been rolling around her mind like a little pearl in a shell. “Your wedding,” she qualified, running the nail of her thumb against her index finger.
Elise looked at Gerri through the mirror. It seemed easier that way, as if the woman wasn’t sitting right beside her. “We eloped. Just us and two of our best friends at the courthouse,” she explained, knowing that Lily’s family situation had been half the reason why they had chosen to elope. Gerri nodded her head in understanding. That made it a little easier, somehow, that Elise’s family hadn’t been there either.
“You’re not going to miss out on anything else, Gerri, I promise,” Elise assured her, squeezing her shoulder before she started pulling hair pins out of the box Gerri had given her. She could only hope the conversation she had with Lily would prove to be right. That way everything would amount to something and Gerri wouldn’t be left choosing between her career and her family life. That’s what would happen if there was any justice left in the world.
Roman’s journey to the Presidential Suite hadn’t been smooth sailing. One of the event executives had grabbed him by the arm just before he could step into the elevator. No one had told him that being COO meant listening to your events team whine about vendor delays and VIPs not RSVPing but still showing up expecting a suite. Thirty minutes of trying to be Switzerland and play the role of diplomat had left him tempted with the idea of a detour to the bar but that risked another Waystar saga.
He tapped his card against the reader, checking over his shoulder to make sure there wasn’t a Waystar employee waiting for him with another crisis to deal with. “Gerri?” Roman called, waiting for the door to click closed behind him before walking further into the room. The cart by the door told him that Elise and Lily were still there. He scrolled through his phone, finishing off his text to Emily as he walked into the lounge area.
Gerri was almost ready. Her hair tied up in her signature french twist, a vintage art deco hair comb pulling it all together at the back. The makeup was a little heavier than what she usually wore. A distinctive flick at the end of her black eyeliner and a glossy red lip that stirred something in Roman. Maybe he could talk her into marking him with it. He’d happily let her cover him in lipstick marks like he was just another martini glass.
“Hi, Elise,” Roman acknowledged the older woman with a nod of his head as she came into view. “Hello, Roman,” Elise greeted, sitting on the armrest of the sofa with her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she typed on her phone. Roman sat his satchel and the De Beers bag down on the empty sofa at the other end of the room, tucking the jewellery bag out of view. He glanced up to see Gerri looking expectantly at him, as though reminding him that they had an audience.
Oh, yeah. Everyone was still meant to think they were a couple.
“You look great, Ger-bear,” Roman tried, offering up his best attempt at a smile as he shuffled awkwardly behind the back of her chair before leaning down to kiss her cheek. Gerri had chosen that moment though to turn her head, Roman’s lips finding hers instead of her cheek. She flinched, pulling away with a little more force than she had intended. Lily’s eyes flickered between Roman and Gerri with a raised eyebrow as her mother tried to laugh the whole thing off. “You’ve got lipstick on your…” Gerri started, her fingers fluttering in front of Roman’s lips where her lipstick had smudged onto the top of his cupid’s bow. Her fingers twitched again before she gave in and wiped it away with the back of her thumb. Roman forced his lips to stay steady.
“Can’t go ruining your lipstick,” Roman joked, catching Elise’s eye as he stood back up to full height. He could already tell that there was no way he would make it through the RECNY ball in one piece. Not with Gerri so close - having to pretend that nothing was wrong while also setting up the fake scandal that was meant to give Gerri her get out of jail card. All while wanting to find a way to fix everything.
No problem. Easy peasy. A walk through Central fucking Park.
“Emily sent your suit up earlier,” Gerri explained, nodding her head towards the Tom Ford branded garment bag that was hanging near the entrance to the bedroom. She stood from the vanity chair, eager to put some space between herself and Roman. The last thing she needed was to lose her nerve this early into the evening.
“Lily, my shoes aren’t going to work with that dress you’ve got me,” she announced, fixing the strap of the white dressing robe she had changed into. “Well, it’s a good thing I thought about that, isn’t it?” Lily teased, disappearing behind the cart for a moment before reappearing with a Manolo Blahnik box, dropping it on the coffee table between the two sofas at the centre of the lounge.
Gerri picked up the off-white box, sitting herself down on the sofa across from Elise. Beneath the tissue paper and hidden away in individual dust bags were Manolo heels. Lily had certainly gotten that memo, but they weren’t her usual style. These shoes were black stilettos with an almond toe and lace detailing along the sides, capped off with a square buckle encased in a gunmetal frame and covered in crystals. More sultry than any of the Manolos in her closet. The lace reminded Gerri of one of the La Perla sets Roman had bought her. The very same set she had been planning to wear tonight - until that De La Renta dress had shown up. She’d have to forego one half of the set.
“Those Manolos are “fuck me ” shoes,” Roman observed, watching the crystals on the shoe sparkle under the bright spotlights of the suite. Elise held out a glass of champagne for him as he walked past, dropping himself onto the sofa next to her. He held up the glass in a mock salute before tilting back his head, downing most of the glass in one go.
“Don’t take the father’s name in vain,” Lily scolded, perching herself on the armrest next to Gerri, reaching out to tap Elise’s leg with her foot. A silent poke to get her to turn off her phone for the night. “And who’s the father?” Roman asked, confused as he popped half of a chocolate covered strawberry into his mouth from the tray on the coffee table. “Manolo Blahnik,” Gerri recalled, slipping out of her flats and into one of the heels to check they fix.
“Then what are “fuck me ” shoes?” Roman shrugged as he got up from the sofa, dropping his empty champagne glass on the side table as he picked up the Tom Ford garment bag. He wondered when someone would declare fashion its own language. Connor’s political rambles made more sense than whatever nonsense was coming from the two Kellman girls.
“Louboutins,” Gerri replied, thinking of the distinctive red bottom shoes that she had always avoided in the department stores. There was something about them. A mystery that you could only solve when you’d slip your feet into that Italian leather. Wearing Louboutins felt like having a devil on your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Telling you just where to place your stiletto for the death blow. Cheering you on to press down just a little harder.
“Lily, what shoes do you wear?” Roman called over his shoulder as he unzipped the garment bag, checking to make sure the right suit was inside before turning back around. “Louboutins,” Elise answered on her wife’s behalf as she tucked her iPhone back into her Birkin.
Roman raised an eyebrow at that. Maybe he had to buy some Louboutins for Gerri after all. He could buy her a pair with a matching La Perla set. A pair that would only be worn in the safe haven of the penthouse.
“Do you know it was Joan Crawford who coined the “fuck me shoe” phrase?” Lily inquired as she stood up from the sofa, crossing the room to pick up the bottle of Chanel No5 from Gerri’s vanity table. One glance at her feet told Roman that Lily was wearing Louboutins. A black stiletto pair with little metallic spikes along the side. He wondered if they could be classed as a weapon. They definitely could be one in the hands of Lily Kellman.
“And how, oh wise one, do you know that?” Roman asked as he started undoing the laces of his oxfords, realising they’d all have to finish getting ready in the next few minutes. “Madeline and I used to re-enact ‘What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?’ as kids. She was Bette Davis and I was Joan Crawford,” Lily explained, spraying the perfume onto her wrists and dabbing them together.. “That explains a lot,” Roman muttered, wondering if the Kellman girls were raised on Gable and Hepburn instead of Tom and Jerry.
“I’ll help with your dress, Gerri, then Lils and I will finish getting ready in our room, we just need to get into our dresses,” Elise suggested as Lily headed towards the phone that was plugged in near the entertainment system to call down to reception to get a porter to transfer their bags. “Behave yourself while we’re away, Roman,” Gerri warned, grabbing the hairspray bottle as she stood from the vanity to head towards the master bedroom. “Aye, aye, Captain G,” Roman sighed with a mock salute, his eyes glued to her back as she followed Elise around the corner.
He shifted his focus to Lily as he heard her set the phone back down on the receiver. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” Roman asked, one hand in his pocket while the other awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. Lily could tell something was afoot. Roman had been acting off since the moment he walked into the suite. “Sure,” she said, walking towards the balcony doors, holding one of them open for Roman as the pair stepped out onto the small terrace.
Roman leaned against the railing of the balcony, waiting for the door to shut before he addressed Lily. “Thank you, for giving your Mom a chance,” he acknowledged, mindful that Lily was a key piece on the Kellman-Roy chessboard. He’d only stand with Gerri if Lily approved - yet he had no notion of how Lily would react to the potential of Gerri being Matsson’s pick for CEO. “You put forth a persuasive argument, it would have been cruel of me not to,” Lily shrugged, putting her arms over the railing as she looked out towards Central Park.
“Glad you think so,” Roman nodded, relieved that he had managed to do at least this one for Gerri. If nothing else, he had helped bring her and Lily back together again. “You should have been a lawyer,” Lily joked, nudging the older man with her elbow as she smirked. “Did you ever want to be a lawyer?” he asked, easily imagining Lily as some high-powered corporate lawyer or a named partner at a law firm. Lily turned up her nose at the suggestion. “Oh god no, could you imagine? I think the children of lawyers should stay well away from the bar,” she insisted, shaking her head as she thought of how different her life would be now if she had fulfilled her father’s wishes of following in his footsteps by going to Yale.
A silence fell over them. The crisp September breeze blew out the cobwebs, helping them both think a little clearer. The moment gave Lily a chance to catch her breath. For her mind to catch up with where she was and finally start to process the reality of it. Lily had always avoided the RECNY ball, choosing to stay at home with Selina while Elise went by herself. Even in her early 20s she had declined every invitation her mother’s various assistants had sent her. Yet, here she was now. Standing on the balcony of the Presidential Suite with Roman Roy, her mother’s scandalously younger boyfriend.
“God, I need a fucking cigarette,” she muttered under her breath. She needed something to take the edge off. Roman glanced down at Lily’s hands as she started to run her nail along the skin at the side of her thumb. The same anxious habit that Gerri had. “I can fetch you one,” he offered, knowing Gerri would have her emergency stash in her bag. Not that she ever had to reach for them. They only ever smoked in the penthouse. They used to smoke in the penthouse.
“I really shouldn’t,” Lily sighed with a shake of her head. If Elise was serious about the comment she had made in the car, Lily could kiss the occasional stress-induced cigarette away. And her beloved martinis.
“How’s Selina?” Roman asked, hoping to break the tension and take Lily’s mind off her intrusive thoughts. “She’s good. One of our friends is staying with her tonight. So she’ll be dosed up on sugar and doing a Barbie movie marathon probably,” Lily laughed, though part of her felt that pang of guilt again for keeping her and Gerri apart. They would meet when the time was right for everyone. “Your Mom showed me the video of you two baking cookies,” Roman admitted, thinking back how much Gerri had smiled at that. It was the most he had seen her smile since her birthday. “I think it really helped her to see that,” he added, wanting Lily to know her olive branch had made a real difference.
She nodded her head, turning over the gold pendant around her neck. “I hope it didn’t hurt, though,” Lily confessed, having spiralled over that thought after sending her mother the email. That had never been her intention, but Lily had come to realise she had done nothing but hurt her mother for the last decade.
“You’re a good mom,” Roman pointed out, knowing Caroline had never baked cookies with him and his siblings. Though he doubted that cookie cutters and licking chocolate off the baking spoon would have changed anything in the long run. “Sometimes I worry that I love her too much,” Lily admitted, biting the side of her lip in a way that reminded him of Gerri when she was deep in thought about something. “No such thing,” Roman assured her with a shake of his head, fingers slipping through the belt loop of his trousers. “It’s nice that you have that relationship,” he added, convinced that Lily and Selina were proof that the poison didn’t have to drip through.
Lily pushed her hair out of her face as it moved in the breeze. “People who grow up knowing almost nothing but pain and disappointment tend to love harder because of it, it can be…well, it can be a suffocating sort of love,” she thought aloud, contemplating the events that had brought them to this moment. Lily wondered if Roman held her mother a little tighter because of the pain he had endured growing up. If he clutched onto Gerri in the dark of the night the same way she held onto Elise. Always terrified of waking up one morning to find her gone. Because Lily knew all too well how quickly you could lose someone.
“Why do I feel like we’re not talking about you anymore?” Roman questioned, leaning against the railing as Lily started to pace around in front of him. Another Gerri-ism. “Well, not strictly me,” she agreed, folding her arms as she glanced through the balcony door for any sign of movement from inside. “I know you care about her,” Lily finally admitted, accepting what now felt inevitable.
Roman knew her words were an understatement. But words so often seemed to fail him when they came to Gerri. Not that he was good with words in general. Maybe if he had been better at them he could have convinced Gerri that there was no need for this not-so-fake breakup.
“Roman, I might have misjudged you,” Lily announced, a weight pressing against her chest as she turned to look at him. That broke Roman out of his thoughts. There was a seriousness in Lily’s tone that hadn’t been there before. A far-off look in her eye, as if recalling a conversation from earlier that day. “You don’t have to live your life just being the son of Logan Roy,” she reminded him, her voice lower now as she stepped towards him. “There could be another way - a different path for you,” she pointed out and Roman knew what path she was trying to set him on.
“I don’t want to make Gerri choose,” Roman insisted, refusing to let himself be the thing that would come between Gerri and her family. “Well, neither do I,” Lily declared and Roman understood the seriousness in her voice. She was plotting something. Offering up a golden apple if he could just figure out how to solve the puzzle. “I think there’s a path where she ends up getting everything she deserves,” Lily continued, echoing the words Elise had said during their conversation in the car.
The chess board shifted once more, spinning off its axis as a Kellman once again took the upper hand. “You would be okay with her staying at Waystar?” Roman questioned, wondering if perhaps he didn’t have the whole picture. It took him a minute for it all to click. Had Lily somehow found out about the conversation he had with Matsson? He wouldn’t put past Elise to know about that - or at least be able to foresee Matsson’s proposition of making Gerri the CEO indefinitely.
“I can see the way the tide is turning. I think Waystar without Logan would be a different world,” Lily pointed out, watching as Roman tilted his head to the side, kissing his teeth. “Your mom deserves to be CEO,” he agreed, thinking back to his conversation with Matsson. Gerri had the right reputation, skills, and foresight for the role. If anyone deserved to be CEO on merit alone, it was Gerri.
The wind changed direction then.
“So, what are you going to do to make that happen, Roman Roy?” Lily asked, folding her arms as she tapped her Louboutin heel against the balcony floor. Roman blinked at that, wondering if the champagne had gone straight to his head. “What can I do?” he questioned, seeing as it seemed that Lily had already worked it all out in her head. “Talk to Elise when all this settles down, she might be able to help,” Lily offered, tapping her nails against each other as she looked back out towards Central Park. “And until then?” Roman asked, knowing he needed to find a short-term solution. A rabbit to pull out of a hat within the next hour.
Lily rolled her eyes as if asking if Roman expected her to do everything for him. “I don’t know. You said you’re a Matador. Grab the bull by the horns,” she suggested, throwing her hands in the air as she shook her head. “What does that mean?” Roman whined, knowing it would be easier if somebody simply told him what to do. His brain cells weren’t used to having to work this hard. “When the right moment presents itself, you’ll know,” Lily concluded, knowing that Roman had to figure this out for himself. There was only so much that she could do.
“I’m glad you’re on board with all this,” Roman conceded, suspecting he’d need to call on Elise and Lily’s help to pull everything off. Whatever plan he ended up landing on. Lily turned around, resting her back against the railing of the balcony. “Roman, can I tell you a secret?” she asked, eyes looking up to the sky as she counted her inhales and exhales for a moment. “Before my dad died, he had a health scare about six months before that. When he came home from the hospital, he called me into his office and sat me down. He told me it was my responsibility to look after Mom if anything happened to him, but he warned me to watch out for Logan,” she explained, twisting her engagement ring on her finger.
Part of Lily had feared Logan had put his sights on Gerri as the third ‘Mrs. Logan Roy’ for a brief moment after her father’s death. But she wouldn’t tell Roman that. Wouldn’t plant that poisonous seed in his head. Nothing had ever come of it after Marcia appeared on the scene that summer. “My dad thought Mom would be a good CEO someday. I never told her that, but he thought Logan might see her as a threat,” Lily continued, turning back around to face the railing.
None of that shocked Roman.
“Gerri knows where the bodies are buried, then?” he asked, already knowing the answer to that. “Dad left Mom all of his papers. Logan probably doesn't even know some of them exist,” Lily confessed, wondering for a moment where those papers ended up after her mother moved out of the brownstone and into the penthouse. “Maybe if we work together, she doesn’t have to choose,” she added, feeling like she had finally gotten everything off her chest.
Lily glanced down to the street below where the blacked-out limousines and executive cars were starting to arrive. The faithful arriving to write their cheques for their indulgences, absolving themselves of their sins with a little row of zeros on a thin piece of paper.
“I just want her to be happy,” Lily announced, as if offering some manifestation to the universe. Roman thought back to the place where he had seen Gerri be the happiest. The penthouse. If only he could take her back there now and pretend as if the last week hadn’t happened. “I can make her happy, Lily,” Roman said, feeling more confident in that than anything else in that moment. He had made her happy. No matter what Gerri might say. The last six weeks had been the most memorable and (at times) tranquil of his life.
He knew what he wanted now. Gerri and a penthouse apartment sixteen stories high with an ageing tortoise and collection of worn vinyl records.
“Then choose her,” Lily said, but paused as she heard the sound of a door closing from within the suite. “Don’t fuck it up, Romey boy,” she warned, throwing him the signature Kellman glare as she turned on her heel to head inside. Roman wondered if any man in this world could survive the Kellman glare. He wondered if even his father could withstand a look worthy of turning men to stone. Roman had seen his father silenced more than once by Gerri delivering that same Medusa stare.
Elise appeared from the master bedroom, closing the sliding doors behind her as Roman stepped back into the suite. “Lily, let’s go,” she announced, walking forward to wrap her hand around her wife’s arm. “Wait but I want to see…” Lily started to protest, her free hand pointing towards the master bedroom where her mother was meant to be getting ready. “Darling,” Elise warned before she leaned forward to whisper something in Lily’s ear. Roman watched as the expression changed on her face, her eyes widening as her mouth opened to form an ‘o’ shape. “Oh, okay. I see,” she conceded. Lily turned to look at Roman. She smirked as she shook her head before patting him on the back. “Well, good luck, buddy. Don’t take a heart attack or anything,” she warned, already turning on her heel, picking up her Kelly bag as she walked by the sofa.
“What do you mean?’ Roman called, wondering where Gerri was and what was so secretive. He watched as the door clicked shut behind Elise and Lily as they headed off towards their own suite down the hall. Nothing happened for a few minutes and he assumed Gerri was re-doing her makeup or deliberately hiding out on him. A quick glance at the clock told him they had five minutes at most to get down to the ballroom before someone would come looking for them.
Roman accepted his fate and started changing into his suit, throwing his shirt on as he heard the sound of a sliding door opening behind him. He gave up on trying to do up the buckle of his new belt, the Tom Ford trousers fitting a little tighter than how he remembered them. Must be all of those pancakes.
“Rome,” Gerri called, making him wonder how long she had been watching him for. Roman turned at the sound of his name, finding Gerri standing in the large door frame that separated the master bedroom from the lounge. “Holy fuck - Ger, I -” Roman paused, his tongue no longer able to work.
For the first time in his life, Roman Roy had been rendered speechless.
There he was standing in his suit trousers with his shirt open like a schoolboy, while Gerri stood there like Hera herself. The silhouette of the black dress drew his eye directly to the plunging sweetheart neckline. The tulle cape somehow made her seem taller, accentuating the curve of her neck in a way that made Roman think he would be forever glued to the floor.
Gerri smirked at that. Lily had been right. This was the dress she had to wear tonight. It had taken her a while but Elise had talked her around. And something in the back of Gerri’s head told her she should enjoy these last few hours. Before it would all be over. She should enjoy the end of the game they had been playing for the last six weeks. This was it. The end of the lies.
“You know how to whistle, don’t you, Romey?” she taunted, leaning against the doorframe for a moment as she watched him visibly gulp. Gerri knew how this would have ended up in the penthouse. “You just put your lips together,” she continued, speaking in a slow, drawn out voice as she started to cross the room. Lily had shortened the hem of the dress to work for her height, letting the toe box of the Manolos peek out from under the pleated skirt of the gown. Gerri came to a stop in front of him, just out of arm’s reach.
“And blow," she said as she imitated the sound of a low whistle, red lips forming a perfect little ‘ o’ shape as she pressed them together. It felt a little like playing with your prey before eating them whole. Gerri had the upper-hand here. Roman was stood in front of her with half his suit on. His shirt still open and his belt hanging loose around his waist.
She followed his eyes down to where the fabric of the neckline dipped into a square cut, the curved cups giving him a view of her cleavage as good as the one he’d get from her La Perla nightwear. “Do you like it?” Gerri asked, licking her lips as she put her hands on her hip, arching her back just a little.
To her this was just one more stolen moment in an overpriced hotel room. It was what their fucked-up situationship had been built on. It felt somewhat fitting for this moment to eulogise their relationship. A partnership book-ended by expensive hotel rooms could never last long enough for a life in a penthouse apartment.
“I - fuck - I don’t know what to say,” Roman breathed, not even able to make himself whistle for her like an obedient lapdog. Gerri stepped around him, staying out of touching distance as she moved into the light. “Lily picked it - Oscar De La Renta,” she explained, her left hand running along the fabric at her waist. The tulle cape floated behind her as she walked in a way that reminded Roman of the ballerinas he had seen on the one occasion that Caroline had dragged him to see Swan Lake. That dress was more like Odile than Odette.
“The rest is the usual. Manolo. La Perla,” she continued, lifting the hem of her dress to show the stiletto of her shoe. Roman felt as if he might swallow his tongue for how hard he just gulped. He wished they were back in the penthouse. That the black silk of that dress was on their bedroom floor.
Gerri came to a stop in front of him once again and Roman got his first chance to appreciate that plunging sweetheart neckline within touching distance. The La Perla was noticeably missing and it was only then that Roman caught the reflection of the back of the dress. It plunged even deeper in the back than in the front, exposing the soft skin of her back.
Another gulp. She was going to be the death of him. Maybe this was where it ended. He had a good run. He could just drop dead on the hotel room floor and not have to give his speech or follow through with the original plan.
Gerri smirked to herself as she looked at his open shirt. “You can never do them up right,” she taunted, pursing her lips as she stepped forward, one hand reaching out to touch the lapel of his shirt. “Is it my fault if I’m distracted by your tits?” Roman protested, eyes still fixed on them as her chest rose and fell with each breath. “Let me do it,” she offered, tapping his hands away from his shirt as she did up the first button. Gerri had become more accustomed to undressing him than doing up his shirts. That had only happened once before - in Hungary after the infamous ‘boar on the floor’ incident.
Roman finally looked up at her face and his eyes stayed fixed on her this time. Last time he couldn’t look at her. But they weren’t the same people they had been that morning in Hungary. His hands slipped onto her waist, the same spot she had put them on that night in Italy. At the beginning of this unholy mess.
“We don’t have to go down there, you know. We can lock the door and leave them all to fuck themselves up with a million dollars worth of champagne,” Roman offered, one hand slipping off her waist to curve around her back, pulling her closer to him as she did up the next set of buttons. “You can put your Manolos in my face and read your bullet points off your phone,” he suggested, eyes now fixed on the curve of her neck as he bit back a growl. He’d happily hide away there. Dig himself a nice little hole and never move again.
Gerri fixed his collar after doing up the top button. That old mantra, “What harm could it do?”, came back to her. Part of her thought of pressing a kiss against the pressed collar of his shirt, marking it with a distinctive red lipstick mark. A little reminder to the rest of the world that Roman Roy was still hers until the end of the evening. She ran her hands across his shoulder, smoothing out non-existent creases. Her fingers flinched as they came near his neck again before she took a step back, putting some much needed space between them.
Roman felt he could breathe again as Gerri stepped back towards the coffee table, picking up his bowtie. “Thanks, Ger,” he said, forcing himself to look away as she bent down. That dress really did show everything. “Can you do your bowtie or do you need me to do it?” she asked, holding the bowtie loose between her fingers as she held it out for him. Roman shook his head as he snatched it from her. “No offence, G-spot, but having your tits that close to me again wouldn’t end well,” he admitted, turning towards the mirror to look at his reflection as he did up his bowtie. Gerri laughed at that, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Do it and I’ll fix it then,” she offered, stepping into the reflection of the mirror as Roman finished doing up his bowtie. Her presence distracted him, making him undo and redo his bowtie twice before it looked presentable enough. Roman turned to look at her, his eyes landing on her chest again.
The necklace.
“ I bought you something by the way,” he announced, watching as her eyebrows frowned together. Roman stepped around the coffee table to move his leather satchel, revealing the bag hidden behind it. He kept his back to Gerri as he undid the ribbon to slip the large suede case out of the bag. “A consolation prize?” Gerri asked, trying to sound upbeat, even while she could hear her heart thumping in her ears. Perhaps that noise was it breaking just a little, the fault lines of her heart starting to give way.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Roman shrugged, balancing the box in his hand as he tried to work out how to open the lock on the front of the box. “My reward for getting through the last six weeks?” she questioned, folding her hands in front of her as she glanced at the clock. One of the assistants would probably start banging on the door any minute now.
“Some reward,” Roman tutted as he turned around, having finally managed to open the two gold locks. Gerri clocked the De Beers box in his hands, eyes wide as he stepped towards her. “What have you done?” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat as he stopped in front of her. She could make out a few of the diamonds sparkling under the dim light above their heads, but Roman had put his hand between the box and the lid, stopping her from seeing the whole necklace.
“This is what happens in those movies of yours, right?” Roman asked, thinking back to the nights he had spent watching black and white movies on her couch. The nights he had seen the side of Gerri that no one else got to. His Gerri. She looked at him with a blank expression. “The guy buys the girl a piece of jewellery,” he continued, adjusting the box in his hands as Gerri struggled to make any words come out of her mouth.
There were pieces of jewellery and then there was De Beers.
If the box had been smaller, Gerri wondered if her mind would have jumped to the conclusion that it was a diamond ring nestled in there. But something told her that what was in that box was more expensive than any normal engagement ring.
Her jaw went slack as Roman opened the box fully, the necklace almost blinding her for a moment as her eyes took a second to adjust to the prisms of light that shone from each of the stones. “Rome, why….” she paused, fingers hovering above the diamond droplets at the centre of the necklace. “Because I wanted to,” he insisted, wondering for a second if Gerri’s allergies were kicking in or if the corners of her eyes were starting to water.
Roman moved the De Beers box onto the coffee table, his hands undoing the open box clasp at the back of the necklace. “Can I put it on you?” he asked, holding the necklace between his fingers as Gerri slowly nodded her head, eyes still mesmerised by the necklace. It made sense now why Lily had told her to wear her hair up.
Gerri turned around to put her back to Roman and caught her reflection in the mirror as she felt the weight of the diamond necklace press down against her skin when he set it in place. The stones were cold. Almost cold enough to send a shiver down her spine. Gerri wondered for a moment if Lily and Roman had conspired about it. The necklace accentuated the plunge of the dress without overwhelming it. But it was a necklace that demanded even more attention than the dress.
Roman couldn’t help himself. The devil on his shoulder whispered into his ear as he pressed his lips against the curve of her neck, just above the row of singular diamonds. His arms snaked around her waist, gently pulling her flush against him, his hands resting on top of each other against her stomach. Gerri rested her hands on top of his, closing her eyes as his lips found themselves a home at the base of her neck.
“God, Gerri, let’s just stay here. Let’s just stay right here and not leave,” Roman begged, his lips moving against her skin as his grip tightened, his fingers grasping at the fabric of her dress. “We don’t have to do this, Ger,” he pleaded, moving his lips away to rest his cheek against the exposed skin of her shoulder. He wanted to stay there. Stay right here. If they walked out that door everything ended. The lie would be over. Even though it wasn’t a lie anymore.
Gerri heard her heart crack once more. The executioner’s sword lining up for the final blow. She shook her head, pushing his hands away from her as she freed herself from his arms. Gerri kept her back to him as she blinked away her tears, but Roman could still see her face through the reflection in the mirror.
“How does this play out? What does this look like in a week? In six months. In three years?” she implored, trying to keep her voice steady as she crossed the room to pick up her clutch bag, her tulle cap flowing behind her as she did. Roman watched as she ran her fingers across the necklace. “I’ll show you, Ger. We can make this work,” he promised, offering up an eleventh-hour prayer to whatever gods were listening. He just needed this. Just needed her. That quiet little life in a sixteenth-floor penthouse with old black and white movies and gourmet pancakes with berries and honey. He didn’t need anything else.
Gerri’s grip tightened on her clutch as she walked towards the door, she stopped next to it, turning to look at him once more. Roman would later swear that he thought she was crying. Her chin quivered as she straightened her shoulders, as though fighting against a demon on her back. “If only we could, Roman,” she admitted, letting herself have this one final confession. There was no need to tell any more lies. Not in these final moments.
Roman’s eyes met hers for a moment, as if daring her to look away first. But she held his gaze, even as he stepped towards her, reaching out to take her hand in his. Gerri’s fingers were cold. They were always cold, but they felt almost frozen. As if someone had cut off her blood supply. “Let’s go then,” Roman announced, pulling her hand along with him as he headed out of the suite, making a beeline towards the elevator at the end. His hand stayed wrapped around hers as he pressed the button, watching the numbers light up as the elevator headed up the floors towards them. He could hear Gerri breathing next to him but he couldn’t look at her. Not now.
Gerri dug her fingertips into his hand as the elevator doors opened. It was her turn to drag him in after her. The elevator doors closed yet neither of them seemed ready to let go of the other’s hand. A death grip on both sides.
Roman thought of everything that waited for them inside the ballroom as the elevator slowly moved downwards. Natalia would be there. Waiting to play her part in ending their little game. And Roman would be expected to be his father’s dutiful son and read his speech off the teleprompter. Then everything would fall apart and he’d have to act like the last six weeks had meant nothing.
It was then it hit him. His speech. An idea started to form in the back of Roman’s mind as the elevator dinged as the doors opened on the second floor where the ballroom was.
Showtime.
Alice liked to pride herself on two things: never paying more than $150 for designer shoes and her ability to never forget a face. The guestlist for the RECNY ball was always the usual suspects. The people who attended almost every other Waystar Royco function. She had even seen the guest list before the final invitations went out. So, why didn’t she recognise the dark-haired woman in the shimmering halterneck? She didn’t appear to be with anyone. “Emily, who’s that?” Alice asked as she pointed towards the woman in question before looking at the other first assistant who had a copy of the guest list tucked under her arm. “I don’t know, Roman added her to the list earlier. Her name’s Natalie or something,” Emily explained with a casual shrug, walking in step beside Nick.
Roman’s second assistant paused for a moment as he caught Hugo’s eye as the man walked past him into the ballroom, patting him on the back as he went. Nick knew the role he was meant to play tonight. Gather information. Look for anything suspicious. And try not to get distracted by Nancy.
The three assistants headed down the hallway towards the private entrance at the back of the ballroom. It was designed to allow VIPs to slip in and out without going through the main hallway - offering a direct route from the suites on the top floor. The second entrance would make it easier for Roman and Gerri to get inside without attracting too much attention, while making sure the official photographers got the photos they wanted. Emily put her hand on the curved handle to check that the doors had been unlocked. The sound of stilettos click clacking against the marble floor had the assistants turning their heads towards the hallway ahead of them.
“Oh my god, she looks stunning,” Alice gushed, mouth open as she wrapped her hand around Emily’s arm, the two first assistants huddled together as they watched Gerri and Roman head towards them.
Nick felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. “She does,” he whispered, mouth gaping as he took in the sight in front of him. But Nick’s eyes were locked on the person coming down the hallway behind Roman and Gerri. Nancy. She had gone to check on the couple before running into them getting off the elevator. Her dress hadn’t been what Nick was expecting. A off-white silk dress with an asymmetrical hem, trimmed with matching feathers that reminded him a little of the Burlesque dancers he had seen in Paris. Nick knew he had already failed in one of his tasks. Don’t get distracted by Nancy. He had failed within the first 10 seconds.
Roman gripped Gerri’s hand tighter as the assistants smiled at them. They didn’t know any different, of course. None of them had any idea what was meant to happen that evening - but perhaps it didn’t have to happen. “You look amazing, Gerri,” Alice beamed as Emily nodded her head next to her, Nick’s eyes still fixed on Nancy as she came to a stop behind Gerri.
Gerri forced a smile back at her assistant as Alice and Emily stepped forward to open the double doors, each one pushing down on one of the handles to pull them back. They moved behind the doors to hold them open, Nick and Nancy stepping out of sight to give the couple a moment to steady themselves.
“Are you ready, Rockstar?” Gerri asked quietly, her eyes fixed ahead of her as she tried to breathe under the weight of her necklace. It seemed to become heavier by the minute. A reminder of how Roman felt. An almost 38-carat reminder of how he felt. It was slowly starting to suffocate her as the reality of it all set it. But a relationship founded in expensive hotel rooms would never see the domesticity of a penthouse apartment. That’s what she had to keep telling herself. This had started as a lie, as a wicked game - it was right that it ended like this. Poetic even.
Roman brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss against her cold skin as the music floated through from the ballroom. “Let’s roll, Molewoman,” he announced, gripping her hand as he led the way into the ballroom. The interim CEO facade fell into place the moment they stepped over the threshold, but Roman couldn’t bring up his poker face as quickly.
Everything changed tonight. Roman could feel it in his bones. Nothing would be as it was before. All he had to do was find the right moment to fix things.
Notes:
Eeek! Thank you for getting the whole way through this VERY long chapter. I very much appreciate you.
As promised, here are some links to give you an idea of the various fashion pieces referenced in this chapter:
Gerri’s Oscar De La Renta dress
The De Beers necklace Roman buys Gerri
Gerri’s ‘not fuck me shoes’ Manolos
Chapter 17: Pas de Deux
Notes:
Hello! I’m so sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out. I won’t bore you with the real life stuff. This chapter is the second in our RECNY ball trilogy, continuing the set-up for the third act of this fic.
Three pieces of music are referenced in this chapter. If you want the ‘full experience’, I’d recommend having them on in the background during each scene - especially the last one.
Just like the last chapter I’ve added a few links in the author’s note at the end for specific pieces mentioned.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton had a sense of purgatory to it that night. Either they’d get through it in one piece and come out the other side still standing - or evrything would go up in flames. At that moment, Roman didn’t know which outcome was more likely to win. It was like a little pendulum was swinging in front of his face, swaying back and forth, unable to determine where to stop.
The orchestra had set up just off to the side of the stage that had been branded in every type of branding possible. Roman had listened to enough of Gerri’s opera collection to recognise the piece they were playing as Habanera from Carmen. He gulped as he took in the sight of the podium, feeling a sweat break out as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. He’d have toconjure a rabbit out of a hat - both figuratively and literally - to pull this off.
Something caught Roman’s eye across the room, two figures already on the dance floor. He shouldn’t have expected to see anything else. There had always been a sense of inevitability around those two.
“Look at Ginger and Fred over there. You’d think he’s the one walking backwards in heels, the lovesick puppy,” Roman pointed out, nodding his head towards where their respective second assistants were dancing in the centre of the ballroom, a few other couples dancing at a slower pace. Gerri squinted her eyes, taking a second for them to come into focus without having her glasses on.
Roman had been right. Nick was…well, he was blushing. ‘Lovesick puppy’ had pretty much hit the nail on the head.
Nick looked at Nancy the way every girl wanted to be looked at. As if her very being was the beginning and end of everything. Gerri wondered if Nancy knew just how much Nick cared for her. If anyone had ever told her how his eyes followed her as she left the room, how he’d find a reason to bring her name into every conversation, or about the way he looked ready to kill Greg when he declared he’d fuck Nancy in a game of “ fuck, marry, kill.” A conversation Gerri shouldn’t have overheard at the coat check at a Waystar drinks reception the week before.
Perhaps Roman looked at her that same way when she left the room. Maybe he found an excuse to talk about her as often as Nick did with Nancy. Had he ever gotten defensive at her name popping up in a harmless game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’ ?
Nancy’s laugh filled the room as Nick picked her up, her arms locking around his neck as he spun her around, the feathers of her dress giving her the illusion of a Parisian dancer.
Perhaps they were all just fragments of the same story. Nick and Nancy. Elise and Lily. Roman and Gerri. A tale as old as time. But one of those stories was not like the others.
Gerri blinked, bringing herself back to the presence as she pulled her eyes away from the couple on the dance floor.
“Is Lily down yet?” she asked, aware of the eyes watching them as they made their way further into the ballroom. A passing waiter stopped with a tray of champagne flutes, holding out the silver tray for the couple as they each picked up a glass. “I think we’ll know when those two show up,” Roman mused, expecting the Kellman-Ward duo would make just as grand an arrival as they had. It didn’t take a genius to guess that this was one of the few - if not the first time - that the couple would be out in public as…well, a couple.
Roman usually shied away at these sorts of things. Content to find himself somewhere to hide away by the bar, passing the hours by amusing himself with people watching and eavesdropping on drunken conversation between people who should know better than discussing business matters after a bottle of Dom.
But this was different. He didn’t mind being seen now - with Gerri beaming on his arm. Fuck those people whispering between their champagne glasses as if they hadn’t shown up for exactly this. To find out if the rumours and speculation about Logan Roy’s youngest son and Waystar’s Interim CEO were true or defamatory. To get their ringside seat for the shitshow that was the Roy family’s succession planning. Maybe they could offer an encore if Shiv and Tom were planning on showing their faces.
Roman’s hand slipped to the curve of Gerri’s waist. The same spot she had guided him to that night in Italy. “This is how you hold the woman you’re supposedly sleeping with” was what she had told him at the time. Except now he was sleeping with her. He knew what those curves felt like under his fingertips and he knew what they looked like under those layers of couture and lingerie.
He imagined this was a little bit like how the President must feel meeting and greeting before a state function. There he was staying next to Gerri as she shook hands with the guests as they made their way across the ballroom towards them in a steady stream. All he did was offer a vague “ hello” and a “ good to see you.” Gerri did most of the talking. Perhaps he should curtsy at her feet. It might just catch on.
Gerri - on the other hand - wondered if this could be classed as torture. Her face felt as though it might be stuck in one position. That obnoxious fake smile that she had learnt after her first day of working at Waystar. It said “I find you interesting, please keep talking,” even when inside she was internally screaming for the other person to quietly strangle themselves. Roman being as close as he was didn’t help either. It was one thing for their partnership to be the source of rumours and speculation. It was another for him to be flaunting it in people’s faces less than an hour before they’d stage the breakup.
Perhaps he was trying to prove a point. Force her to be the one to feel the pain. As if she really wanted them to have to go through with this plan in the first place. It was Roman’s fault. All of this was his fault. The fault of him and that little connection between his dick and his brain that never seemed to work properly.
“Lily should have been here by now, I’m going to see where she’s gotten to,” Gerri announced after ten minutes of meeting and greeting guests. “What do you want me to do?” Roman asked, hands outstretched as he looked around the room. It wasn’t as if he could go and hide in a corner somewhere like he used to do with Tabitha or whichever female friend he had talked into being his plus-one.
“Find me a martini. Go talk to your father. I don’t know, just do something Roman,” Gerri suggested impatiently as she shrugged him off and stepped away, feeling the tension start to lift from her shoulders as she put some distance between them. She could breathe easier without his cologne tickling her nose.
“Lilis,” Elise whistled in a low voice as Lily stepped out of the elevator, having sent Elise down ahead of her. ‘Lilis’ was the nickname Elise saved for those special occasions. It roughly translated to “we have ten minutes to get out of here before your Agent Provocateur set ends up on the floor of a bathroom stall.”
The blonde smirked as she ran a hand along the red garnet rose pattern that blossomed from her chest and trailed down to the curve of her hips.“If I have to be here, I may as well be seen,” Lily reminded her, thinking once more about how she would rather be home reading Peter Pan for the 243rd time in a row.
Elise raised an eyebrow, biting the inside of her mouth to stop herself from smirking. It was one thing for her to see Lily dressed like that, it was another for three hundred RECNY ball guests to see her.
“Did you wish Selina goodnight from me?” Elise asked as her wife fell into step beside her, watching as Lily slipped her phone into her clutch bag. “Yes,” she replied, following the crowd towards the main entrance into the ballroom. “And I told her that her GG said hello,” Lily added a moment later, knowing that it was another branch in the olive tree she had been offering her mother. “You’re going to have to let Gerri meet her soon,” Elise reminded her, having never pressured Lily into reconciling with her mother, but things were different now. It seemed cruel to keep Gerri and Selina apart now.
“I know I do, but at the right time, Elise,” Lily sighed, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she fidgeted with her clutch bag. She had managed to down one martini in the hotel suite while getting dressed, but she could already feel it turning her stomach. Lily couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was going to happen. What exactly, she didn’t know, but she could sense something was afoot.
“I don’t think it’s fair to keep them apart for much longer, darling,” Elise countered, her hand falling onto Lily’s back, pressing lightly against the exposed skin as they walked through the double doors. “Let’s just see how tonight goes,” Lily suggested by way of compromise. She stopped in front of the seating plan just inside the ballroom. ‘Elise Ward’ and ‘Lily Kellman-Ward’ were written in gold cursive handwriting under Roman and Gerri’s name and above several names Lily recognised as being Waystar Royco board members.
“Clearly no one got the memo that I did take your name as well,” Elise muttered with a shake of her head as she looked out towards the tables that were dotted across the room, leaving an open space for a dance floor in front of the speaker’s podium. “Joys of me being the trophy wife,” Lily teased with a giggle, slipping her hand through Elise’s arm as they stepped further into the ballroom.
Gerri managed to avoid anything more than small talk with the latest guest arrivals as she made a beeline towards the door, eyes fixed on the head of blonde curls that stood next to the seating chart. “You look lovely, Lily,” she greeted, stepping forward to hug her daughter. She had hugged Lily more in the last few weeks than in the last five years. Gerri didn’t know whether that warmed her heart or threatened to break it all over again.
“Wow, Mom, you…” Lily paused, holding her mother at arm’s length as she took in the woman’s appearance. Gerri blushed, tucking the single strand of loose hair behind her ear. Elise chuckled to herself as she noted down another so-called ‘ Gerri-ism’ that mother and daughter shared. “You picked well,” Gerri acknowledged, knowing it was only because of Lily that she looked like this - and Roman, of course. The whites of Lily’s eyes grew wide as she focused on the work of art that adorned her mother’s neck.
“The necklace is….” Lily paused, the realisation hitting her all at once. Her mother never would have splashed the cash on a piece like that - and she wouldn’t have been intending to wear that hideous 1980s Mother of the Bride outfit if she had been planning on wearing that showstopper. It all meant one thing.
“It was a gift from Roman,” Gerri explained, fingertips pressing down on exposed skin just below the necklace. “Well fuck me, the boy did good,” Lily whistled in a low voice, eyes trailing around the rows of diamonds as her wife leaned over her for a better look. “De Beers?” Elise questioned and Gerri wondered for a moment if her daughter-in-law was about to take out a magnifying glass to appraise the necklace herself. “How did you know?” Gerri asked, offering the woman one of her first genuine smiles of the night.
“Elise has a thing for diamonds,” Lily explained, but that didn’t shock Gerri when the other woman was wearing a full set of Tiffany’s Victoria diamonds. Small enough not to overpower her outfit but each piece dazzling in its own right.
“They look like little stars,” Lily observed with an amused little chuckle, bringing Gerri’s attention back to her daughter as she smiled at the woman. The stars once again within touching distance. “Elise, take a picture for Maddie and Selina,” Lily suggested, opening her clutch bag to take out her phone, passing it over to her wife. Gerri watched as the phone screen flashed up, Selina’s face grinning back at her. It stayed illuminated long enough for Gerri to make out the shape of the elephant plush in her granddaughter’s arms. She shifted her focus to Elise as the woman pointed the camera towards them, directing each of them on how to stand as she kept her finger on the screen.
“Thank you,” Gerri acknowledged against her daughter’s shoulder as they hugged once more after the last photo. “Lily, when can I…?” she paused, struggling to put the right words together as they pulled apart. There was only so much waiting that her heart could take. She had already missed out on four years with her granddaughter. “Soon, I promise, very soon,” Lily assured Gerri, acknowledging the question her mother couldn’t bring herself to ask.
Lily glanced over to where an older couple were standing waiting on them to finish. She vaguely recognised one of them as a former Waystar employee, one of the bigshots that always seemed to be hanging off her father’s coattails. “I can see you have to do the rounds, it’s not easy being the belle of the ball,” she smiled, slipping her clutch under her arm as she reached out for Elise’s hand.
“Duty calls,” Gerri acknowledged, straightening her shoulders as she put the ‘ CEO’ facade back into place. “Good luck, Mama,” Lily smiled, squeezing her mother’s arm before the woman excused herself to do a turn around the room, stopping first with the couple who had been waiting to grab her attention.
Elise stood back as Lily watched her mother for a moment, her eyes following the woman as she moved from one guest to the next. Lily wondered if perhaps this was the inevitable path her mother had been destined to take. She fitted the CEO role in every way, but none of that mattered. Not when it was a position where the right surname outweighed thirty-years of experience.
“Let’s go and have you seen,” Elise suggested, tugging on her wife’s hand, as though she had seen the gears turning in the younger woman’s head. Lily nodded her head, turning her attention back to the brunette. “Can we stop off for a martini somewhere along the way?” she asked, the open sleeves of her dress billowing behind her as they walked.
“Better load up on them while you can, Princess,” Elise teased with a knowing smirk. Lily glanced back over her shoulder to catch a final glimpse of her mother. She still couldn’t shift the feeling in her chest that something was about to happen. Even more so now she had seen her mother. There was something off about her. Though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
Roman had been halfway to the bar when he locked eyes with her. Natalia. The so-called ‘get out clause’ from the lies that he and Gerri had been telling. Except they weren’t lies anymore. But that technicality didn’t seem to matter.
“You look well,” he greeted her, elevator eyes taking in the sight of the off-the-shoulder black velour dress. There was a gold buckle that popped out from the neckline, just before the small cuff sleeve that trailed freely down the side of the dress as though it was a leash. “I had to look the part,” Natalia acknowledged with a nod, the powder on her sculpted cheekbones gleaming under the warm light of the chandeliers over their heads.
Roman nodded his head in agreement. The dark haired woman certainly fitted into the scene. Her dress might have been off the rack but it had been tailored to give it the illusion of a couture gown. Roman thought the little diamond pendant around her neck might be the real deal - for the Chanel clutch under her arm most certainly was. How did someone in Natalia’s line of work afford things like that?
“When do you want to do this?” Natalia asked, her eyes fixed on the guests milling around them as she took a sip of her champagne. Roman wondered if she played poker. She certainly had the face for it. “After the speech,” he confirmed, part of him hoping he wouldn’t need Natalia’s so-called ‘services’. Not if he could find a way to get what he needed from his speech.
Natalia pursed her lips as she twirled the champagne glass in her hand, thinking of the unsigned NDA that sat in her bedroom on the 37th floor. She had watched the couple arriving and greeting their guests. While she didn’t consider herself much of an expert on the concept of love, she could tell there was more to this story than either Willa or Roman had told her. She had seen the way he looked at Gerri. It was the way she had always wanted someone to look at her.
“You just make yourself comfortable, Natalia,” Roman suggested, though he doubted he needed to say that. “Oh, I intend to,” she smirked, having already worked out the net worth of at least five of the men who had been eyeing her up since her arrival. Clearly, Natalia intended to get up to no good either way. “Don’t go pick pocketing any Rolexes though,” Roman offered by way of a joke, awkwardly shrugging his shoulders as his eyes widened a moment later.
Was Natalia the sort of high-paying companion who enjoyed pocketing a few souvenirs by way of a tip?
“Omega,” Natalia corrected him as she took a moment to glance down at the dial of Roman’s watch. An Audemars Piguet Royal Oak in stainless steel with a black dial. It was certainly one way of telling the world you didn’t care what you put on your wrist, while spending the average median income on a watch. “What?” Roman asked, eyebrows drawn together as he looked at the woman in confusion.
“I’m more of an Omega girl,” she explained again and Roman finally clocked the slim Swiss timepiece on her wrist. So, Natalia fancied herself a Bond girl then. That didn’t surprise Roman. There was a Moneypenny quality about her. The sort of girl you could imagine being top of the class at law school, but just as devious with her romantic trysts as her choice of a dress with a leather leash hanging off it.
“Course you are,” Roman tutted, thinking of the oversized gold AP he had found in Gerri’s bedside dresser one night when looking for headache tablets. He had realised it was Baird’s as soon as he turned it over and saw the engraving on the back. Roman had always wondered why Gerri wore a watch that was too big for her, its oversized dial drowning her narrow wrist. It made sense that it was Baird’s. But Gerri hadn’t worn it since they got back from Italy. The human filing cabinet had put it neatly away in her bedside drawer next to her sleeping pills and L’occitane hand cream.
Roman pulled himself out of his thoughts, not wanting to let his mind wander on the vision of Gerri’s master bedroom. He took in the sight of the woman beside him once more. There was a voice echoing at the back of his head. Perhaps Gerri's voice. Telling him he had already fucked up - somehow. But he hadn’t, had he? Either way, Natalia was too smart for her own good. Perhaps even for his good.
“Well, have fun, I guess,” Roman offered before he set off towards the bar, waving his hand towards Nick as he caught sight of his second assistant standing by the other side of the marble counter, already nursing an old fashioned. “Two martinis, please,” Roman ordered as he reached the bar, forgetting about his assistant as he started to instruct the bartender on how to make the martini to suit the taste buds of the esteemed Geraldine Kellman.
Nick raised his whisky glass towards Roman as he leaned against the bar. He wondered why he was bothering with this. Any of this. Oh, it was all because of him. His father. It was always to do with his father. Bartholomew Carter had gone to the Logan Roy School of Parenting. Passing with flying colours and merits in psychological abuse and neglect.
Perhaps the poison dripped through after all.
He finished the last swig of his whisky, setting the glass down onto the counter when he felt a heavy hand come to rest on his shoulder. For a moment, Nick thought his father had found him. After all, he had seen the man’s name on the invitation list. But his father found these sorts of soirees beneath him.
“Nicholas, my man,” Hugo greeted, sitting himself down on one of the stools next to the younger man. “Hello, Hugo,” Nick waved his fingers up to catch the barman’s attention, signalling for another two whiskies. “Anything of interest?” Hugo inquired as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the marble countertop of the bar. “Not yet, they’ve only just arrived in the last twenty minutes or so. Elise and Lily had been up with them earlier for a good while, they’re here now as well,” he explained, nodding his head towards where Gerri was speaking to a group of guests, just a few feet away from her daughter and Elise.
“Okay, good, keep an eye on things for us,” Hugo instructed as one of the bartenders set the two whisky glasses down in front of them. “Do you think something’s happening tonight?” Nicholas asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Roman walked off with one martini, having tasked a waiter to bring Gerri hers.
“Who am I to know? But Roman is giving the speech tonight. Wouldn’t be shocked if he pulls some sort of big romantic gesture,” Hugo announced, not wanting to disclose that he had a bet going with half the executive floor as to whether Roman would do something as stupid as proposing during his speech.
“I find it all creepy, you know, like how much older is she than him?” he confessed, taking a sip of his whisky to hide his disgust. Nick didn’t feel the need to point out that Hugo’s latest flirtatious was even younger than Nancy - a bigger age gap than that between Roman and Gerri. He bit the inside of his mouth, stopping himself from speaking out.
“Yeah, it’s fucking odd,” Nick lied. But it wasn’t odd. It made perfect sense. Nick had been given a front-row seat to their relationship. The sight of Nancy’s curls distracted him across the room as she stood, martini in hand, huddled in a little circle with Emily and Alice. He smiled to himself as he watched her laugh, shoulders shaking as she gripped onto Emily’s arm as she started to protest to whatever joke Alice had just told. Someone pushed against Nancy’s back, sending her almost falling into Alice’s arms.
“Oh shit,” Nick muttered, stepping away from Hugo as he watched Logan sidestep around Nancy and the girls as he made a clear beeline towards the trio standing just off from the dance floor. Logan was heading directly for none other than Lily Kellman.
“Gird your loins,” Elise muttered to Roman while tapping her wife’s arm to direct their attention to the man walking towards them. “Lilith,” Logan greeted, handing off his empty whisky glass to one of the passing waiters as he gave Lily the slow elevator eyes that lingered a little too long on the curves of her hips for Elise’s liking. “It’s Lily,” she corrected him by way of greeting. Elise’s eyes narrowed as she prepared herself for the inevitable car crash that was to come.
“I’ve always thought Lilith suited you better,” Logan insisted with the sort of smile that always turned Roman’s stomach. It turned his stomach even more now that it was being thrown at Lily. The wolf showed his teeth as he prepared to make Little Red Riding Hood his dinner. Roman gulped down another sip of his martini, finishing the glass as he kept his eyes fixed on his father and Gerri’s daughter.
But Lily looked unimpressed. Athena glaring down Poseidon with her owl-like eyes that seemed to follow you from every angle. “It’s tradition for me to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room,” Logan continued and Elise looked as though she might reach out and slap him. Roman could understand that defensiveness - especially when it came to keeping the woman you loved from Logan Roy. “And you used to be a ballerina after all,” he added, eyes once more trailing across Lily’s curves. Her pointe shoes may have only recently been put back on, but she had always maintained a dancer’s physique.
“I know you have a thing for stealing other people’s wives, Logan, but I don’t think mine is interested in anything other than homicide when it comes to you,” Elise observed, twirling her wine glass between her fingers, her grip tightening as though she had her hand wrapped around his neck. Maybe that would have shut him up and put them all out of their misery. It would sure keep his blood-soaked hands away from her wife.
“No, it’s fine,” Lily insisted, though she couldn’t bring herself to smile. It would be better to get this done without too much fuss. If a scene was going to be made, Lily wouldn’t be the one left feeling embarrassed. “Let’s dance, Logan,” she declared, reaching out to take his outstretched hand, the aquamarine stone in her engagement ring distracting the man for a moment as his fingers tightened around hers, turning her hand to see the wedding band tucked underneath the stone. Another secret brought into the daylight.
“Don’t forget to smile, dear,” Logan hissed into her ear, the whisky on his breath almost enough to make Lily bring up her martini. She pulled back her shoulders, turning her head away from him as he gripped his fingers tight enough for them to go as white as a widow’s face.
Lily could see this for what it was. A dance ten years in the making. More a battle of wills than a traditional waltz. Not that the music coming from the orchestra’s string instruments necessarily called for a waltz. Lily couldn’t place where she had heard the song before - but there was an almost haunting ambiance to it. As though the ghost had left his resting place to join them once more, hovering just above their heads, peering down at them instead of looking up.
There was only one person that the ghost could be.
Roman shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot as he stood next to Elise. “You okay?” he asked, his eyes fixed on his empty martini glass. He didn’t need to look at the older woman next to him to know she was seething. “The human embodiment of Lucifer has just taken my wife for a spin around the dance floor, do you think I’m okay?” Elise snarled, fingernails scraping at the bare skin of her arms as she folded them in front of her chest.
She had dealt with men like Logan Roy all her life. There was a reason why he had wanted to get Lily alone - and that was either for his own sadistic pleasure or to publicly humiliate her.
The orchestra came to life once more as they started their next piece, fittingly named ‘The Last Dance’.
“Sorry I asked,” Roman mumbled, looking up in time to catch Logan snaking his good arm around Lily’s waist, his hand possessively tightening around that gentle slope. Elise sighed next to him and he could practically feel the tension radiating off the woman. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just…I’m protective of her, that’s all,” she explained, eyes fixed on her wife’s back as the cellist and violinists continued to string their bows like archers at the first sign of battle. The music sent a shiver up her spine as she tried to rock herself along with the melody.
Roman grimaced as he watched the way his father led Lily around the dance floor. A waltz where every step and slide seemed a step closer to danger. “I get that,” he sympathised. If it was Gerri in Lily’s place, he would have been wearing a hole into the floorboards under their feet as well.
“Your father and Lily have a complicated history,” Elise revealed, her eyes never leaving her wife as the woman danced around the ballroom with all the skills of someone who had once danced as Odile. Roman raised an eyebrow at that. Even he could read between the lines when it came to those two, but he knew nothing beyond Lily’s feelings surrounding her father’s death.
“I reckon Logan would have sent her away if he could have,” Elise added, snatching a champagne flute from one of the passing waiters, tipping the glass back against her lips, letting it sting the back of her throat. “Packed her off to college somewhere far away after Baird died,” she thought aloud. The cruel God banishing Lilith from the Garden of Eden. Elise had often tried to imagine what those months had been like for Lily - and for Gerri.
Roman’s curiosity got the better of him. “Why do they hate each other so much?” he asked, suspecting that the hatred wasn’t entirely one-sided. There was something about the blonde woman that set Logan’s teeth on edge. “Lily wouldn’t play the role of the good Kellman,” Elise announced with a shrug, putting her empty champagne flute down on the table behind them as she folded her arms once more. “You’re going to have to elaborate, Elise,” Roman pressed, suspecting that there was far more to the story than anyone was ever going to willingly tell him.
Elise glanced around the room, her eyes falling on her mother-in-law across the room. It seemed Gerri had yet to catch a whiff of what was happening. That was a small mercy at least. “Gerri almost quit Waystar after Baird died,” she whispered, as though scared of the ghosts that might be eavesdropping on their conversation.
“She almost quit ?” Roman repeated, turning his body inwards towards Elise as his eyes widened in disbelief. Gerri would never quit. Her entire life revolved around her work. They all knew how much she had lost because of it. How much she had lost out on. But had she ever truly considered walking away from it all?
“Depression - but your dad thought it was Lily pulling her strings. Maybe he thought Baird had told Lily his secrets,” Elise explained, turning herself towards Roman as they huddled together at one side of the dance floor. By now, several other couples had joined Lily and Logan, but most of the room was watching the elderly man and the blonde woman.
Roman’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. “His secrets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was close enough to see the prisms of light coming from the diamonds in Elise’s earrings. “And his lies. It’s always the lies that catch people out eventually,” she reminded him, pursing her vampy red lips together as her eyes settled once more on Lily and Logan.
Roman followed her eyes as he redirected his attention. “We all tell lies,” he insisted, shrugging his shoulders as he felt a cold chill run down his spine. Roman was living a lie. But had Baird left a poisoned apple in Lily’s hand? That could change things. He watched as the platinum thread of Lily’s dress caught the light from the chandelier above them. He imagined she felt a little like a swan - cold and siren on top of the water, while kicking manically underneath.
“This must be sad for you,” Lily said, her eyes fixed at some spot off in the distance beyond Logan’s shoulder. She wasn’t even focusing on anything in particular, simply keeping her eyes away from his face. “Your last RECNY ball,” she mused, forcing her body not to flinch as she felt the calluses on his fingers as they brushed against her bare back.
“My last?” Logan questioned, his whisky breath once more drowning Lily’s senses. “Oh, I don’t see you making it to the next one,” she remarked casually, as though simply commenting on the weather. Some things were a certainty - like rain on an April morning, the crisp air of October 1st, and the inevitable death of Logan Roy.
He seemed to find that rather amusing. “Have you been poking little pins into a voodoo doll of me, little Lily ?” Logan asked, moving their joint hands towards her face to turn her chin, forcing those brown eyes to meet him. Gone was the little ballerina who hid behind her father’s coattails.
Lily’s eyes narrowed in a way that reminded Logan of the paintings of the Oracle of Delphi. Pythia delivered one more oracle. “Oh no, Logan, you’re going to die a perfectly normal, boring, little death, I don’t have to do anything about it,” Lily declared, no venom lacing her voice as she spoke her prophecy into the world, punching each word out from between her lips.
“We’ll pack you away into a little box and bury you into the ground like you never mattered at all,” she hissed, voice dropping as the cello screeched back into life, its bow manifesting the rocking back and forth of power between the pair.
There was no greater insult to an extraordinary man than a normal little death - to be put in a wooden box like every other man before him. No one would wax lyrical for Logan Roy when his heart would stop beating. They would fight over his belongings the same way the guards did at Golgotha. But Logan Roy would be put in a box and sealed in a tomb for eternity, his soul damned to walk the River Styx without two coins for the boatman. It was exactly what he deserved.
“Nothing lasts forever, not even you, Logan Roy,” Lily prophesied. Even Cesar had fallen. Knifed by those he considered family. Those he believed he could trust. Right at the seat of his power. But who would be Brutus in this tale? “But I don’t see you lasting very much longer,” she professed with a purse of her lips.
Logan almost snorted. It was only because of their audience that he managed to keep it in. “I’ve lasted longer than dear old Baird,” he reminded her, those fingers once more meeting naked skin. That hit a nerve. The pendulum of power swung back to the Roy corner.
“I was very close with my father,” Lily remarked, eyes fixed in front of her as she counted each breath she took. Forget playing chess. This was psychological warfare.
“Daddy’s little girl, ironic given how you’ve turned out,” Logan pointed out, swaying them a little as if wanting to knock her out of her heels. Lily’s nails dug into Logan’s hand, deep enough that she’d mark his skin as though a dog had bit his hand, drilling their teeth deep enough to almost draw blood. But drawing blood would prove that Logan was human. It would suggest there was a heart beating away in that body that looked more like a corpse than a man.
Logan tilted his head up, trying once more to give the illusion of him towering over Lily in her heels. “What’s in it for you, Lily? Coming back here,” he questioned. “Oh, there’s nothing in it for me,” That was another lie. Spun into a web with all the skill of Pallas.
“You know, before my father died, we talked a lot about you,” Lily revealed, lifting herself back up to her full height as they stepped to the side once more. She could feel him trying to push her down, make her as small as a little spider that he could stamp on with his feet. But she had him now. The pendulum swung once more. It was Logan’s turn to find the blade against his neck.
“Daddy’s little secret keeper,” Lily breathed as they turned once more, her eyes level with his as she dug her heels into the wooden floor. Something flashed in Logan’s eyes then. His chest rose faster as his face became grey. Lily’s hand went numb as he tightened his grip on her fingers, his other hand pressing against the skin of her back to trap her in place.
“Go on, Logan, hit me. Hit me the way Uncle Mo used to hit those girls on the cruise ships,” she taunted, as if daring him to reach out and strike her porcelain skin.
Logan’s grip of her waist tightened and Lily counted the crystals in the chandelier directly across from them. She took over the lead of the dance, her heels pulling her forward as she side-stepped in time to the music - otherwise it would have been his turn to mark her.
“You little bitch,” Logan mumbled against her blonde hair as he pulled her closer still, his eyes meeting Elise’s across the ballroom as the brunette looked ready to pounce at the first sign of danger. “Do you think Dad would have left us without an insurance policy?” Lily hissed in return, her red nails scraped along the back of Logan’s neck, like a dagger against his skin.
That insurance policy hadn’t been a small fortune hidden away in a swiss bank account. No, that insurance policy was a poison pill. The mistresses, dodgy business deals, so-called accidental deaths, and every skeleton hidden away during the thirty years Baird Kellman had worked under the thumb of Logan Roy. The poison pill to force down Logan’s throat if the need ever arose. Revenge from beyond the grave.
The realisation hit Logan all at once. The ghost at the feast. His grip of Lily loosened for a moment, long enough for the woman to untangle herself as the orchestra entered the final chorus of the song. “Baird Kellman was twice the man you’ll ever be,” Lily snarled, showing her teeth. Logan grabbed her wrist as she stepped back, snatching it towards his chest to pull her towards him, as if he was about to take her for another turn around the dancefloor. “No kiss for your Uncle Logan?” he grunted, eyes wide as he sneered in her face.
“I’ll kiss your coffin,” Lily hissed, her words sounding more like a threat than a compromise. Logan’s fingers twitched as Lily stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his as her red lips turned up into a smirk. “Don’t forget to smile, dear," she mocked, using Logan’s momentary shock to pull her wrist free from his grasp.
Lily turned on her heel, eyes searching for Roman and Elise at the side. Logan pulled at the lapel of his suit jacket, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as he tilted his chin upwards. Their audience had been given a show - one that had left him in the role of the fool. He turned on his heel, eyes finding Shiv across the room.
“Did she just?” Roman paused, part of him having been expected to break something up between the pair. It hadn’t been obvious, of course, to anyone outside of the Kellman-Roy circles, not even to the guests who had been watching from the sidelines. But he could tell by the grip of his father’s fingers. The arch of his back. The way he seemed to somehow make himself just a little taller. All the little involuntary things that used to scream out to Roman that he was about to be thumped. It was never a slap. It had always been a thump. Designed to throw him to the ground and leave him whimpering like a puppy. But somehow Lily had escaped it, danced her way around the threat and lived to tell the tale.
“She didn’t slap him, that’s something,” Elise mused, eyes fixed on Logan as he watched Lily walk off the dance floor. Her eyes followed him as he kept looking back over his shoulder towards Lily, even as he crossed the room towards Shiv. Trust his sister to choose that moment to show her face.
“I was betting on her throwing her shoe at him,” Roman sniggered, trying to conceal his concern behind a half-hearted attempt at a joke. What would he have done if Logan had hit Lily? He had only ever brushed off that behaviour, whether hiding in Connor’s tall shadow or disappearing into the darkness of his bedroom. Lily would’ve hit him. She’d have slapped Logan right back.
And that would have been the end of her.
Lily stood before him again, suddenly appearing as if an epiphany. “I need a fucking drink,” she announced, puffing out a dramatic breath that lifted some of the curls from her face. It was enough to put Roman at ease again. “Two olives or three?” he asked with a chuckle, eyes catching Gerri across the room where she stood by the bar with her martini in hand, talking to Karolina and Lucy from HR.
He needed to speak to her one last time before his speech. “Two,” Lily replied, making Roman’s eyes flicker back to her in time to see Elise’s hand snake around the back of the younger woman’s waist. “I’ve got you, Lils," Roman acknowledged, walking around the couple to make a beeline back towards the bar, catching a glimpse of his father and Shiv as the pair stepped off towards a quiet corner in front of one of the windows.
Shiv stepped forward to put her hand on Logan’s arm, eyes fixed on his face as she tried to work out whether the man was about to scream or have a heart attack. “That little bitch. I’ll string her up by those fucking shoes and teach her a lesson,” Logan snapped, snatching his arm away from Shiv as he turned towards the window. A beast in the shadows licking his wounds.
“Dad, lower your voice,” Shiv warned, eyes darting around at the crowd surrounding them. The last thing they needed was a misplaced threat in the heat of the moment landing them a front page story. “She knows things, Siobhan,” Logan hissed, his shoulders raised up to his ears as he took one deep breath after the other, his face flushed red from the blood bubbling in his veins. “Course she fucking does,” Shiv sighed, glancing off towards where the blonde woman was walking away from the bar with her mother and wife on either side of her.
“It’s not just Lily we need to look out for,” Logan warned, already trying to put a plan together in his head. This had to be handled - and fast. “You’re concerned about Elise?” Shiv questioned, her neck almost snapping with the force of which she turned her head to look at him. “I don’t trust her. She’ll spin a web and then set a match to it,” Logan spat, his hands reaching for his tie as he loosened it, the veins in his neck starting to bulge.
Shiv felt as though she was missing a central piece of the jigsaw puzzle. She turned her head to smile politely at a trio of passing guests before turning back to her father, leaning closer as he wagged his finger at her. “As devious as her bastard father,” he groaned in a low rumble. “I didn’t realise you had history with them,” Shiv remarked, glancing over to where the tall brunette was standing in her opulent black dress with its floor length white cape. A far more simplistic look than that of her wife’s but one that made it clear Elise was - in her own right - one of the most important people in the room.
“He got into a bidding war with me for ATN,” Logan announced, one hand on the wall as he shook his head. “But Ward Inc. isn’t involved in broadcasting,” Shiv reminded him, wondering if she’d have to resort to Inspector Google to figure out what had actually happened. “They’re not because I paid $100 million over asking for ATN to keep them out,” Logan admitted, though the sourness in his tone suggested it wasn’t a sum of money that he had happily parted with. “Sounds like you have a grudge,” she muttered, folding her arms in front of her chest. “That’s one way of putting it,” Logan grunted, making it clear that there was more to the story than what he was willing to share with her.
Shiv bit down on the side of her lip. Both Elise and Lily had fathers whom Logan had a messy history with. Not exactly ideal. It gave Gerri two hound dogs for them to contend with.
“I don’t need Elise Ward sticking her fucking nose into this shit with Matsson,” Logan scoffed as he moved away from the wall, straightening his tie. “Why would she want to do that? We both know Lily hates anything to do with Waystar,” Shiv reasoned with a shrug of her shoulders as she tried to convince herself it was just her father’s paranoia talking. Logan leaned in closer to her, grabbing her arm. “Spite, Siobhan. Fucking spite,” he spat as he felt that familiar pressure pushing down on his chest.
Shiv watched as her father limped off in the direction of the bar like a wounded man in need of licking his wounds. Her eyes scanned across the room for Gerri until she found the trio standing next to one of the tables across the room. Most of the guests were still mingling or dancing, leaving the table settings relatively untouched. Shiv started walking towards them, determined to have it out with the woman, when Roman walked across her path, getting there before she could.
Gerri had managed to manoeuvre herself back to Elise and Lily about ten minutes before the pre-dinner speeches were due to start. Elise had been mid-way through recounting the story of her and Lily’s somewhat disastrous trip to Casablanca the year before when the orchestra deviated away from its usual choice of waltzes to a piece Gerri recognised as being by Andre Kostelanetz.
It was sort of music that couldn’t make up its mind what it was. Whether it was a waltz or a tango, as though illustrating a battle of wills. The two lovers on the edge. One ready to jump and the other pulling them back.
Roman chose that moment to appear in front of her, hand outstretched. “Dance with me, G,” he said, nodding his head towards the dance floor. Gerri looked back to her eldest daughter for a getaway but the blonde had already headed off towards her table with Elise, probably assuming that she and Roman would want a moment in private.
“No,” Gerri hissed with a shake of her head. She wasn’t going to give in to him again. This was over. It was done. They were over. “You promised me a dance,” he reminded her as he stepped forward, fingers stroking down the side of her hand. They had spent plenty of nights in the darkness listening to Italian love songs and Greek tragedies. They had practically everything a man and woman could do together except this. They had never danced. Not even behind the closed doors of the penthouse. Somehow that had felt too intimate - even for them.
“Roman, don't make this harder than it needs to be,” Gerri pleaded, keeping her eyes fixed on something over his shoulder, refusing to look him in the face. She knew all too well what those eyes could do to her. “Can’t I dance with my girlfriend?” Roman questioned, his fingers gently lifting her hand up towards his chest, cradling it there. “I’m not your girlfriend,” she insisted with a shake in her head. Gerri had never called herself that. Would never call herself that. After tonight they would be nothing to each other. As if the last two months hadn’t happened.
“You still are for the next thirty minutes,” Roman argued, both hands holding hers against his chest, stopping her from leaving. “Everyone is watching us,” Gerri warned, turning finally to look at him as the violins played their seductive melody. “Good, let them watch,” Roman shrugged defiantly, no longer caring what anyone else thought. Their opinion meant nothing anymore.
Gerri realised they had an audience now. One that seemed to be growing by the minute. It was her turn to look like a deer in headlights as she slowly nodded her head, accepting her fate. Dark eyes stayed fixed on her as Roman dropped their joint hands to his side. “Come on, Morticia,” he teased, pulling her along with him as they moved towards the centre of the ballroom, Gerri’s gown swooshing behind her as they stepped between the couples who were already swaying to the melody. “You watch too many children’s movies, Rome,” Gerri remarked as they reached an empty spot on the dance, Roman stopping them as he slipped his free arm around her back before he fell into step with the string orchestra. “You got the reference though,” he observed as a single violin began to play, each string vibrating as though a haunted man lamenting over his lost lover.
Roman looked over Gerri’s shoulder to where Natalia stood at the side of the dance floor, a freshly filled glass of champagne in her hand. His grip on Gerri tightened - scared as if she might slip through his fingers. He led them towards the other side of the ballroom floor, keeping his movements in time with the music.
“When did you learn how to dance?” Gerri questioned, her eyes fixed on his face as he held their joint hands out to the side. He had yet to step on her toes. In fact, he was rather good at it. Good enough to make her think for a moment that it was only them and the orchestra in the room. Gentle enough in his steps for her mind to replace the opulent ballroom with the simple comforts of the penthouse apartment. As if they were dancing in her bedroom and not the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton.
“You know those nights you had the meetings with the LA office?” Roman asked, turning them in time with the music, the tops of his fingers stroking across the exposed skin of her back. “Yeah,” she acknowledged, her head turned to face him as she stepped backwards, trusting him to guide her through the song. “I may have watched a few YouTube videos on how to do it,” Roman confessed, remembering that first night in Gerri’s apartment when she had taught him how to make a martini and promised him one dance at the RECNY ball if he learnt how to waltz.
“Who did you dance with?” Gerri questioned with a chuckle in her voice as she tried to imagine Roman mastering the art of waltz time. Not that this was strictly a waltz that they were dancing to. “Horus,” Roman dead-panned. Gerri pressed her forehead against his shoulder as she laughed, her walls finally breaking down. For a moment they were back there. Back in her apartment. Where no-one could touch them - or the ageing tortoise who lived in the study.
“I’m going to miss that little guy,” Roman confessed, though he knew Horus wasn’t the thing he’d miss most. What he’d miss most would be those quiet few minutes each morning when he’d wake up before Gerri’s alarm would go off. When he got to bask in the tranquillity of listening to her steady breathing next to him, her blonde hair tickling his nose as he pulled her close against his chest, inhaling the vanilla of her hair oil as the streets of New York woke up just beyond the balcony windows.
“Maybe you can have visitation rights,” Gerri suggested, bringing him out of his thoughts. But Roman knew that was a lie. They were either all in or destined to be apart. They couldn’t exist in purgatory, dancing across a thin line in the sand. It was no longer a relationship built on stolen moments in expensive hotel rooms and whispered phone conversations.
“I’d like that,” he agreed, lips twitching into something that resembled a smile. But it wasn’t what he wanted. The other violins screeched to life then, as though a Greek Chorus shouting at once, the message getting lost amongst the chaos. Their movements quickened in time with the rhythm change as Roman led them around the dance floor, sliding between the other couples.
“What if I don’t want to do this, Ger?” he pleaded, using the music as a cover for their conversation, the echo of the cello stopping the other dancers from eavesdropping. Gerri shook her head, pursing her lips. For a moment Roman thought her chin had started to wobble. Maybe it was the reflection of the diamonds, but he could have swore her eyes were glistening.
“We don’t have a choice, Rome,” Gerri stood firm, putting on that tone of voice she usually reserved for the office. The one that was meant to tell everyone in the room that her word was final. ‘Darth Kellman’ was what Roman had once referred to that tone as. But it had no effect on him anymore.
“Who says?” he challenged her, his mind made up now. This wasn’t ending here. Not tonight. Not in this suffocating ballroom with its ghosts and terrors. “Roman, please . It’s easier this way. Maybe we can figure something out but not now. For now, this is the right thing to do,” Gerri pleaded, once more telling the nice lie. The kinder lie that would make the pain a little easier to manage once it was all said and done.
Roman kept her locked in place as they sidestepped. Gerri didn’t know that she was the one with the upper hand. He had kept quiet about his conversation with Matsson, even though it had played on repeat in his head since they got back from Norway. He was loyal to Gerri. Her obedient little lap dog.
“I’m going to fix this, Ger,” he announced with all the confidence of a man preparing to go into battle. Gerri’s heart pounded in her ears as the violin strings screeched under the pressure of the bow. The diamond necklace pressed down against her chest, as if trying to drag her under. Perhaps that was why men gave their lovers diamonds. “Don’t do anything reckless, Rome,” she warned, but there was something in his eyes that told her he had already made up his mind.
Roman shook his head, his moments a little more frantic now as the melody sped up, reaching its crescendo. “No, you just want me to go along with this stupid plan that makes no sense, Ger. It’s not what you want either, I know it. You can’t lie to me. Not anymore,” he protested, his grip of her hand tightening as he felt the fabric of her dress float beside him as they turned. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” Gerri objected, her bottom lip quivering as Roman let go of her for a moment, both hands coming to grasp at her waist as her hands fell limp against the back of his neck.
“Yes, it does. You’re a fucking human Ger, you feel things. You’re allowed to want things,” Roman proclaimed, his fingers on her waist shaking her as his hands trembled under the pressure of it all. Why couldn’t she just fight for them? That string that seemed to run from his heart to hers was still clutching on, no matter how tightly it had been pulled apart. “I can’t do this, Rome,” Gerri hiccuped as she forced back her tears, refusing to let them fall. Her hands went to his fingers on her hips, pushing them away.
“Ger, wait,” Roman pleaded, but it was already too late. “I’m sorry,” Gerri whispered, her eyes leaving his as she stepped out of his grasp. The pas de deux was over.
Roman watched as Gerri’s dress flowed behind her, the black cape billowing around her as her heels clicked against the wooden floor beneath them. His eyes tracked that familiar head of blonde hair as Gerri disappeared into the crowd, side-stepping waiters and overeager shareholders as she made a beeline towards Lily. A safe harbour to weather out the storm. The way he had been a safe harbour for her the night of that faithful thunderstorm. Except he was the storm now.
It was then that Roman realised his hands were still frozen in place, reaching out for her. But she slipped through his fingers like those guiding stars that seemed impossibly bright.
“Roman, it’s time,” Emily announced from behind him, breaking the spell. The ever-dutiful first assistant was once again there to help him clean up his latest mess. “Do you have my speech?” he asked, turning around to face Emily as the orchestra played the dying notes of the song before they began to leave their seats, preparing to take their break during the speeches. “It’s loaded on the teleprompter,” Emily said, following her boss as the man headed towards the back of the stage, waving for her to come with him.
“Roman, are you okay?” she asked, adding a skip to her step to try and keep up with him. “Perfect, fine as a dandy, listen, Em…” Roman stopped, turning to face her once they were behind the stage, he looked around to make sure they were alone before he spoke again. “I have to do something, it might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done but I’ve gotta do it okay,” he explained, watching as Emily’s lips parted and the colour seemed to drain from her face.
“What the hell are you doing, Roman?” she hissed in a whispered voice, knowing she was going to be dragged into yet another shit show at the fuck-up factory on a one-way ticket courtesy of Romulus Roy. “You’ll just handle it okay, you always do,” Roman shrugged it off, straightening his suit jacket as he heard the voice of that evening’s presenter sound over the speakers as she prepared to introduce him.
“Ma’am, you can’t be back here,” one of the sound technicians called as they walked up with a clipboard to check that Roman was ready to go on stage. Emily glared at the shorter man before turning back to Roman. “I don’t know what you’re about to do, Rome, but I hope you’re ready for the consequences,” she warned, before turning on her heel and heading back out in front of the stage to take her seat with the other assistants.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Lily asked, the concern evident in her voice as Gerri sat down beside her at the table nearest the stage on the left hand side. “Yeah, fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Gerri snapped as she dropped her clutch bag onto the table, taking her seat between Elise and her daughter. The married couple shared a look behind Gerri’s back. Lily pushed her mother’s forgotten martini back towards her before taking a long sip of her own. That feeling was back again. That inevitable sense of doom.
Elise looked down in time to see Gerri pulling at the skin at the side of her thumb. Something had put her on edge. “Do you need anything, Gerri?” she whispered, leaning closer to the woman as the rest of the guests took their seats around the table as the presenter began to introduce Roman for his speech.
“Nope, no, I’m fine,” Gerri insisted, shaking her head as she kept her eyes fixed on the two olives in her martini. Her teeth began to chatter as she took a shaky breath, the applause drowning out her spiralling thoughts for a moment as she raised her head in time to see Roman walk out across the stage.
The beginning of the speech had gone off without a hitch. Roman read the speech that had been prepared for him - largely by Karolina with a little of Gerri’s distinctive touch. It focused on the bright future ahead for Waystar Royco, while acknowledging that the last year hadn’t been smooth sailing for them. All while skillfully dancing around the cruise scandal, congressional committee, and the rumours of a potential acquisition.
The words on the teleprompter started to blur as Gerri’s name appeared for the first time. It was the section of his speech where he was meant to thank her for stepping up to the role of interim CEO, commend her for her grace and resilience in putting the company back on track. Acknowledge her success before moving swiftly onto a rather lengthy passage about his father’s legacy.
That wouldn’t do. Not anymore.
His eyes found her sitting at their table. Dressed in the diamond necklace he had bought for her. Wearing a dress that showed off almost every curve in the body he had become intimately familiar with. It had all started as a lie but he had become so much more than that.
He couldn't let her go. Not now.
Roman watched as Gerri’s eyes narrowed in on him, her head tilting with that familiar look of concern - as if asking him if he was okay. This was how they spoke to each other. Without ever having to say a word. They could read each other like an open book. There were no lies between them anymore.
But on the other side of the stage at the table directly across from Gerri was his father. Flanked on one side by Shiv and the other by Tom. Logan wasn’t looking at him. No, he was watching Gerri.
Roman brought his eyes back to the teleprompter, acting as though he was simply reading the words that someone else had put in his mouth. “It’s my honour, a privilege really, to tell you that Gerri Kellman is no longer interim CEO,” he announced, the whispers starting before the last syllable could leave his lips.
Gerri’s blood ran cold. Logan’s heart stopped in his chest for one brief moment. “What the fuck?” Lily hissed under her breath, eyes widening as Elise reached out to grab the woman’s hand across the table. Something was coming. She could sense it.
“Gerri?” Elise questioned, but her mother-in-law’s face had frozen. She couldn’t read her.
Roman’s eyes darted between his father and Gerri. His vantage point on the podium put him equally between the two. The pendulum began to swing from one side of the room to the other.
Logan. Gerri.
Gerri. Logan.
Logan. Gerri.
His eyes stayed fixed on her this time. Roman had made his decision.
Gerri. He chose Gerri.
“Waystar Royco is delighted to appoint Gerri Kellman as our permanent CEO,” Roman announced, eyes once more back on the teleprompter. This was the most dangerous lie of them all - but the one that would set them on another inevitable path. The whispers were louder this time with scattered applause across the room. “Effective immediately,” he added, turning his head to look at his father first.
Logan had gone still. Part of him respected the boldness of it. Respected Roman for finally grabbing the bull by the horns and rolling the hard six. But he had blindsided him. Perhaps he never should have underestimated his youngest son. This was a move no doubt orchestrated by Lady Macbeth herself. Gerri had poured into Roman’s ears words that had poisoned his own son against him. Logan was sure of it.
Roman shifted his focus back towards the centre of the room before he could catch his father’s eye. “Have a good night, folks, don’t run New York dry of its whisky,” he concluded, giving himself a round of applause as he began to walk off stage, catching sight of his sister getting up from her table. Shiv made a beeline for the nearest waiter carrying a shiny silver tray of cocktails. It didn’t matter what was in the glass.
Her brother had just stabbed them in the front.
The look on her mother’s face told Lily this hadn’t been planned. Elise could tell as well. Gerri had the same look on her face as Lily would wear on the rare occasion that she had been caught out on something. The applause continued throughout the room as Roman stepped off the stage and Gerri stood to acknowledge it, forcing a smile as her mind struggled to process the chaos of what had just happened.
Elise’s chair scraped against the wooden floor as she stood from the table, throwing her arms out around her mother-in-law. She looked down at Lily over Gerri’s shoulder, nodding for her to get up as well. “Smile, Gerri, just keep smiling,” Elise mumbled against Gerri’s shoulder as they hugged. Elise’s taller silhouette had helped to conceal Gerri’s face for a moment, giving her precious time to compose herself.
Lily reached out her hand towards her mother’s back, putting all those years of dance recitals into use by beaming at the guests at the nearby tables. “Play it cool,” she whispered in her mother’s ear as Elise let Gerri go, allowing the older blonde to turn and hug her daughter.
Gerri’s grip was tighter this time. What had Roman done? Why had he done that? Everything was out the window now. This was another lie that threatened to end everything. Put them on an even dangerous footing with Logan. Lily squeezed her mother’s waist as she watched Roman stride towards them. “Give Prince Charming a kiss, Cinderella,” she whispered, gently pulling away from Gerri just as Roman appeared at their table, turning the woman around to face him.
The kiss happened before Gerri could stop it. It wasn’t just a hunger kiss. It was a defiant one. Designed to act as a middle finger to the world around them. Her hands were on his cheeks as he pushed her back, the stilettos of her heels digging into the floor to keep them steady. It was the sort of kiss that normally would have ended with torn shirts, crumpled bed sheets, and La Perla sprawled across the floor.
Lily cleared her throat loudly beside them as the clapping began to die down. Roman pulled away, his hands once more finding Gerri’s waist. He wouldn’t let go this time. Gerri ran her thumb across Roman’s bottom lip, cleaning away the lipstick that had smudged onto the corner of his lips. “You went off script,” she scolded in a low voice, forcing the smile to stay on her face for the benefit of those watching them.
“No, I just decided what I wanted,” he replied defiantly, the same look in his eyes as that night when he had shown up to her room at Tern Haven. “Which is?” Gerri breathed, though she already knew the answer - wore a $480,000 necklace that proved as much. “You,” Roman declared, putting all of his resolve into that statement. He had made his bed now. He may as well lay in it.
Her eyes widened as she tried to process the gravity of what had just happened. Roman hadn’t just made a choice for him. He had made a choice for them - and without thinking of telling her before pulling the carpet out from under her with yet another lie. Could she even call it a lie? This was something else far bigger than that.
“They need to get out of here,” Elise whispered to Lily, nodding her head towards the other side of the ballroom where Logan appeared to be on a death march - heading right for them. “I’ll get them to go, you distract him,” Lily agreed, glaring across the room towards the elderly man who was heading in their direction.
Her mother and Roman both appeared to be frozen in time. As if Pandora’s Jar hadn’t just been opened around them. “Time to go, folks,” Lily announced, stepping up behind them as she put a hand on each of their arms, directing them towards the exit at the back. Emily and Alice entered her line of sight in front of her, clearly having come to the same conclusion as her and Elise.
Gerri picked up the side of her gown, making it easier to walk in her heels across the carpeted floors. “I can’t believe you did that, Roman,” she whispered as she started to come back to her senses, looking at the man out of the corner of her eye as Elise navigated them through the crowd, helping them hide amongst the sea of cocktail glasses and couture gowns as they made their escape.
“Well, I just fucking did, Ger,” Roman snapped back, part of him still thinking this was just an out of body experience. “We need to talk,” Gerri insisted as Emily and Alice appeared to guide them towards the double doors at the back, allowing them to slip out while the rest of the guests went in search of a fresh drink or a canape. Lily waited for the doors to shut behind the couple before locking them, tucking the large gold key into the sleeve of her dress.
“What have you done, Roman?” Gerri whispered as they headed out the door, making a beeline down the hallway towards the elevator that led up to the Presidential Suite. “What the fuck did you want me to do Gerri? Just read some bullshit script off a teleprompter and then go off on my merry way to have a fake fucking session with an escort?” Roman argued, part of him wondering how Gerri could walk so fast in those heels as he tried to keep up with her. Hadn’t he just done the romantic gesture of the year? Why was she acting as if he had burnt down the last martini joint in New York.
The elevator doors opened with a ding as soon as Gerri hit the call button. “Not only are we stuck in this situation now, but you’ve just gone against your father. Why did you do that, Roman?” Gerri continued, her voice getting louder as they stepped into the elevator. “You don’t have to choose anymore, Ger, you can have everything now,” Roman interrupted her as the doors shut behind them. “Your father –” she began, but he quickly cut her off, grabbing at her hand. “What the fuck is he going to do? Fire you? Fire me? He can’t, Ger. It’s checkmate,” Roman assured her.
But he wouldn’t tell her about his conversation with Matsson - or the ones he had with Elise and Lily. Instead he had simply pushed down on the accelerator and got them to the inevitable final destination a little quicker.
The two stood in the middle of the elevator as it travelled up to the top floor. There were no shadows in there with them. The mirrored walls made it impossible to hide a secret - or even a lie - from each other. “I’ve made my mind up, Ger,” Roman announced, confident in his decision as he closed the gap between them. “Oh, have you now?” Gerri challenged, crossing her arms to stop him from touching her. Trust Roman to make a decision as crazy as this on his own. Usually he couldn’t choose his coffee in the morning without asking her about it.
Roman leaned in to kiss her as the elevator doors dinged, the heavy metal sliding apart as Gerri slipped from his arms. He hadn’t won the war just yet. “Gerri, wait!” Roman called, cursing the way his Oxford shoes pinched the front of his feet as he ran down the hallway after her, catching the Presidential Suite before it could slam shut.
Had he made the right call? He had taken the decision out of Gerri’s hands, but what else was he to do?
Lily’s eyes caught Logan’s as she re-emerged from the other side of the room, having slipped around the back to lead him off the trail. Elise seemed to have cornered him and Lily debated between getting a martini and rescuing her wife. But Elise’s confrontation with Logan had been even longer in the making than Lily’s. She made a beeline towards the bar, seeking out a martini big gulp to calm her nerves, passing Hugo as the man stepped around her for a more attractive target.
“Hey, pretty lady,” Hugo greeted her, having been watching her during Roman’s speech. Natalia groaned into her champagne glass. A quick glance at the man’s wrist told her he wore a Rolex. One of those hideous so-called ‘Pepsi’ styles. “Good evening,” she acknowledged him with a short nod of her head and a pursing of those cherry red lips.
“What’s your deal? Why are you here?” he asked as he leered closer to her, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Hugo had seen enough women like her to know exactly what she was.
Natalia’s eyes glanced over to the now locked doors, where Roman and Gerri had made their escape while she watched on from the other side of the room. Clearly, her services weren’t needed. “I’m a friend of Roman’s,” she replied, turning back to look at the short man beside her. “Are you really ?” Hugo taunted with a shake of his head as he smirked. “Walk with me,” he insisted, turning them in the direction of large double doors that led out to the balcony.
“What’s your name?” Hugo asked her as he took a moment to look her up and down, fingers playing with the leather strap that dangled from the side of her dress.
“Natalia,” she answered, her mind once more going to that unsigned NDA. A costly mistake. One she may have just been presented with an opportunity to exploit.
“Perhaps we can do business, Natalia,” Hugo declared, glancing towards the other side of the room where Logan was standing toe-to-toe with Elise. He could give Logan whatever information Natalia would offer up on a silver platter - or perhaps it was time for him to get something out of this.
Nick set down his drink as he caught sight of Hugo and Natalia disappearing out onto the terrace. He felt a sweat break out on his forehead. That couldn’t be good. While he didn’t know exactly who Natalia was, he had put enough of the pieces together to have a good idea of what her reason for being there tonight might have been.
Hugo had found the string to unwound the web of lies - taking one step closer to bringing the truth into the cold light of day.
“Are you going to keep being moody or are you going to take me for another dance, Nicky?” Nancy asked, hands on her hips as she swayed a little from side to side. It seemed Nancy’s limit was two martinis. And she was already on the last sips of her third. Nick glanced from her to the disappearing silhouettes of Hugo and Natalia. “I’ll be back, Nanc, okay?” he promised, knowing he couldn’t let the other pair out of his sight.
Nancy’s face dropped at that and Nick was reminded of just how much she would eventually come to hate him for this. “Don’t you go dancing with anyone until I’m back, right, Nanc,” he insisted, leaning forward to kiss her cheek before he darted off across the room before she could stop him.
Perhaps it was the martinis making her vision blurry, but Nancy could have sworn Nick was running after Hugo and the mysterious brunette. She set down her martini glass and headed off after them, leaving her clutch bag on the table that the assistants had been assigned to. “Nick!” She shouted, watching him from behind as he disappeared between a group of men in matching Armani suits, chasing after him.
Gerri had been right. One of these stories wouldn’t end the same as the others.
Chapter 18: No More Lies
Notes:
And just like that, the RECNY ball trilogy is over. This is a shorter chapter (by my standards). I could arguably have combined this and the next chapter, but I wanted to keep this separate to wrap up the RECNY ball arc. This chapter has a little of everything; the Everest motif, a break-up, another fight with Logan, and a conversation about that $480,000 necklace.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roman turned the lock in the door, waiting for it to click before following Gerri into the lounge. The Presidential Suite felt like Dante’s second circle of hell. Sweat was already starting to gather around the collar of his shirt - but perhaps that was from the panic rather than the heat. They were in the eye of the storm now.
“I can’t believe you did that, Roman,” Gerri shouted over her shoulder as she dropped her clutch bag down onto one of the sofas, making a beeline over to the bar cart at the side of the room next to the mini fridge. “Sorry, do you want me to get back on the stage and tell everyone it was a huge fib?” he protested, following behind her to the other side of the lounge. The suite looked lived in. Not as lived in as Gerri’s apartment, but it had a familiarity to it now with her vanity case and lipsticks sprawled across a side table. The suit he had worn to the office was thrown over the back of one of the chairs with Gerri’s black kitten heels tucked under it.
But this wasn’t their apartment. It was her apartment. It had never been theirs. Nothing had ever been theirs.
Gerri could feel the migraine building at the front of her head as she popped the cap off the whisky decanter. She kept her back to him as she pulled a long pour into the glass, savouring the liquid courage as the tension in her shoulders dropped. “Rome,” she warned with a shake of her head, twirling the amber nectar in the glass, watching it swirl from side to side. A storm in a whisky glass.
She turned around to face him, but her eyes stayed fixed on that golden elixir. Roman reached out to take the whisky glass from her hand, turning it so that his lips covered her lipstick mark as he downed the rest of the glass.
“Well, your break-up plan just went out the window,” he announced, saluting her with the empty whisky glass as he pulled the back of his hand across his mouth, cleaning away the whisky from his lips. Gerri scoffed as she put her hands on her hips. “You pushed it out the window,” she reminded him, leaning back on the stiletto of her right shoe.
Roman moved towards the back of the sofa, dropping himself down onto the top of it as he loosened his tie. “Oh, come on, Ger,” he gibed, his patience starting to wear thin at the ridiculousness of it all. Gerri raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms, shaking her head as she looked away, kissing her teeth. “You’re being silly,” Roman remarked, turning her preferred phrase against her.
Gerri was being silly. Couldn’t she see that? He had just put his neck on the line to give her what she deserved. To remove the need for her to choose. Even if that freedom meant cutting himself off from Waystar.
Somebody’s head would be on the chopping block but it wouldn’t be Gerri’s.
“What are we meant to do now? You may as well have told the entirety of New York that you’re in love with me,” Gerri accused, knowing exactly how the conversation must be going in the ballroom. The very same misogynistic comments they had whispered about her when she was promoted by Baird to Senior Counsel. But she had been married to Baird. And he hadn’t been Logan Roy’s son. Yet no one had commented about the age gap when it was the man who was the older one.
Roman put his head in his hands, nails scraping at his forehead for a moment. “Because I am in love with you, Gerri. I told you, you’re my fucking Everest,” he insisted, repeating the same words he had used to her that day at the airfield when they had come back from Norway.
She was his Everest. Once he’d reached the top, there was no going back. His life had been changed immeasurably by the view that greeted him from the mountaintop that put him level with the moon and the stars. His life existed in two parts now. Before Gerri and with Gerri. He supposed that was how explorers must feel after conquering such a great height. Their worldview changed to show them what they really need to survive.
“You can't say that, Roman,” Gerri sighed, shaking her head as she looked away from him, her eyes focused on anything other than his face. “Jesus, Gerri, shut up for like one minute, okay,” Roman pleaded, needing Gerri to stop and hear herself for a minute.
She opened and closed her mouth twice before giving up, snatching the empty whisky glass back from him. “We’re not breaking up,” Roman announced as he watched her return the whisky glass to the bar cart. “Not like we could now anyway, not after your little stunt,” she muttered, picking up the whisky decanter for a refill.
This conversation was going nowhere.
Roman shrugged out of his suit jacket, letting it land in a tangled mess on the other side of the sofa. “Gerri, stop fucking lying to yourself, it’s stupid,” he protested, standing up once more as he kept his eyes fixed on her as she set the glass decanter back down, the bar cart shaking under the force of it. “Me lying to myself?” Gerri snapped as she turned back to face him. “Seems to be your favourite hobby lately. Do you get some sadistic pleasure out of denying yourself things? Is it some form of fucking edging for you?” Roman accused, taking a step forward as he decided it would be up to him to navigate their way through the storm.
A storm he had caused.
“Just - I don’t know - let yourself be happy for once, Gerri,” he pleaded, sweaty palms rubbing together as he tried to find the right words to make her see sense. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s like you’re dead set on never letting yourself have what you want. Whether it’s your daughters, Selina, even me,” Roman observed, wondering how much easier Gerri’s life would be if she just let herself be happy. Perhaps she didn’t think she deserved to be happy. Was that it?
Gerri looked away as her chin wobbled. The first tell-tale sign that she was about to break. Long before any tears would start to glisten in her eyes or her breath would start to shake.
“Stop lying to yourself, Gerri,” Roman pleaded, his voice lower now as he came to a stop in front of her, fingertips reaching out to touch her arms. Gerri was virtually the same height as him in her heels now, bringing them eye to eye as he gently tapped her chin to turn her head back towards him.
The room fell silent.
“Were you telling the truth?” she asked in a low voice, her hand moving behind her to place the whisky glass down onto the bar cart, freeing her hands to touch his arms. Gerri could feel the tension start to drop from her shoulders as she let him ground her. “What?” Roman questioned, that single loose curl distracting him for a moment as he tucked it behind her ear. “When you said you loved me,” she clarified, feeling Roman’s hands slip back down towards her waist, inching her closer to him.
“I can’t lie to you, Ger. Everyone else - but not you,” Roman confessed, knowing that they were past that part of their relationship. He refused to accept the idea that their relationship had been built on a lie. There was a sense of inevitability around them for months. Perhaps the lie had just been the push they needed. “We can make this work, Ger,” he promised, knowing that her overthinking mind would be tormenting itself on the practicalities of where they went from here.
And he was right.
“Where do you fit into this?” Gerri asked, one hand absentmindedly fiddling with the middle button of his shirt. As if they were standing in the lounge in her penthouse and not the Presidential Suite of the Ritz-Carlton.
That was the $100 million question. Where did Roman fit into it all? They had been delusional in thinking this would only ever be a six-week thing. That they could pack it all up into a box and put it away on the highest shelf. Put into the darkness to gather dust until they’d go looking for each other at the bottom of a martini glass.
“What do you mean?” he questioned, having assumed it was clear where he fitted into all this. “If I’m CEO, where do you fit in? Do you really think we can keep doing this?” Gerri shrugged, feeling as if she was looking out at waves across the shore. Another incoming storm. It was one thing to have planned for this to be a six week thing. That she could handle. But for it to be something more permanent? That scared her. It made the future an unknown entity.
“I don’t care. Fuck. I’ll quit and be a trophy husband, if that’ll keep us together. Not like Matsson’s going to be wanting to keep me around anyway,” Roman insisted, knowing he’d be happy to spend the rest of his days entertaining the tortoise and greeting Gerri at the front door with a martini in hand when she’d get home from work. “And he’s going to want me?” Gerri pointed out, assuming Matsson would see her as nothing more than one of Logan’s old cronies. A relic of a by-gone era.
Roman couldn’t lie to her. Not anymore. But he couldn’t tell her the truth - not yet. This was perhaps one situation where keeping Gerri in the dark was for her own good. She could plead ignorance then. When the inevitable shit would hit the fan once Matsson had signed on the dotted line.
His right eye twitched. That was Roman’s tell.
“Roman, what do you know?” Gerri questioned slowly, narrowing her eyes as she tried to put the pieces together. “I’m not lying to you, Gerri. I’m just…” he paused, once more struggling with his words.
Their lies had become secrets. The secrets they’d keep from each other. Never out of malice or spite - but out of a need to protect the other. Secrets that served their interests.
“Not telling me until the right moment?” Gerri offered, tensing a little as Roman’s hands came up a little higher on her waist, one hand moving upwards to touch the exposed skin at the top of her back. “See, you’re much better with words than me,” he teased with a smirk, close enough now to smell her perfume. When did it start smelling like home? Probably somewhere between the sushi date and the first night he had stayed at her apartment.
Gerri gave him a look that told Roman to get to the point. “Just. Trust me, Gerri. Can you do that? Can you trust me?” he asked, watching the gears turn in her head as Gerri took his hand in hers. “What do you want, Roman? What’s in it for you?” she questioned, part of her feeling as though he was the one at risk of losing everything. He had effectively chosen her over his father. Pulled the rug out from under Logan by publicly naming her as CEO - giving his father one less card to play with.
“You, ” Roman brought his free hand up to the curve of her neck, fingers getting buried beneath her French twist. “I just want you,” he repeated, leaning in a little closer to her now.
That broke her resolve.
“Okay,” Gerri breathed, nodding her head as she kept her eyes fixed on his as she bit down on the side of her lip. She stepped around the bar cart, bringing him with her as she moved. “You’re not breaking up with me,” Roman clarified. “I’m not breaking up with you,” she promised.
“What’s going to happen now, Roman?” Gerri asked, knowing that they’d have to come up with another gameplay. A strategy to try and get them through the next few weeks. At least until the deal with Matsson went through. That was as far into the future as Gerri could look right now.
“I thought that was a given, Ger,” Roman groaned, his eyes fixed on the neckline of her dress as he closed the distance between them. The way it plunged down further than anything else he had ever seen her wear. He could tell there was no La Perla under it. The fabric hugged at her curves, as if it had been made just for her hourglass silhouette.
Fuck, that dress. It would have looked even better on the floor of the penthouse’s master bedroom. Perhaps he could convince her to wear it again. For a much, much smaller gathering.
“After that ?” Gerri taunted, licking her lips as she started to step backwards, Roman walking with her as his Oxford shoe came to a stop between her Manolo heels. “We’ll figure it out. That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he reminded her, one hand coming to rest on her back, fingers feeling around for any sign of a zipper. “It’s all going to work out, G. I know it. You and me. We’re a sure thing,” Roman declared, his head moving down so that he could drop his lips onto the curve of her neck, that delightful little spot he liked to think of as his own.
Gerri’s back hit the wall, the cape of her dress stuck between her and the wall. “Remind me to thank Lily for that dress,” he mumbled against her lips as he finally found the zipper on the side of the dress, tugging at it with a little more force than necessary. “Do you know how fucking hard it’s been standing beside you all night while you’re looking like that?” Roman whined, having been imagining doing just this from the moment Gerri had appeared from the master bedroom wearing that dress.
“You are not fucking me up against a wall,” Gerri growled, both hands moving to his shoulders as she pushed him backwards towards the bedroom. “You didn’t complain about it the last time,” Roman poked, cringing a little to himself as he spotted where he had ripped part of the fabric at the side of the dress while pulling at the zipper. “Last time I wasn’t wearing Oscar de la Renta,” she reminded him as she grabbed the front of his shirt as he kissed her once more, the sleeves of her dress starting to drop down her arms.
Gerri was right. Last time she was wearing nothing but La Perla and his favourite pair of Manolos.
“Don’t you dare rip this dress,” she growled against his lips as he kept pulling her back towards him as Gerri undid the buttons of his shirt. “Too late for that,” Roman replied sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault if those dresses had silly little zippers - and he was in a rush.
Gerri’s hands went to the back of her necklace, fiddling at the clasp as Roman walked her in the direction of the bedroom entrance, shutting the sliding doors behind them. “The diamonds stay on,” Roman tutted, swatting at her hands to get Gerri to stop her attempt at undoing the clasp of the $480,000 diamond necklace.
The back of Gerri’s knees hit the end of the bed as she kicked off her Manolos. They landed with a thud across the room before disappearing a few moments later when Roman’s shirt landed unceremoniously on top of them. “That’s what I bought them for,” Roman confessed, looking down at where Gerri laid pushed up on the back of her elbows on the bed, looking up at him expectantly with that look. The one that always made him go a little weird.
The diamonds did - in fact - stay on.
Downstairs in the ballroom, a tussle of another kind had gotten underway. Logan was seeing red. And it had turned scarlett when he saw Elise standing in his path, stopping him from getting near the door his son and Gerri had slipped out of.
“Out of my way, Ms. Ward,” he barked, weighing up the value of getting into a fight with Gerri’s daughter-in-law. “It’s Kellman-Ward these days,” Elise corrected him, continuing to stand in the man’s way, refusing to let him pass. She couldn’t let him anywhere near Gerri or Roman. Not until the redness was out of his face and his breath didn’t stink of whisky and cigars. Even then, she’d feel better keeping them apart until the dust could settle.
“Yes, I did clock that rather obnoxious looking ring on Lily’s hand, clearly none of the old money problems,” Logan revealed, coming to a stop near the table furthest from the podium, almost hidden in the shadows at the back of the ballroom. “It’s an investment. Some of us only intend to be married once, Logan,” Elise remarked, twirling her wine glass between her fingertips, a smirk dancing on her lips. That hit a nerve. This RECNY ball was the first public appearance without Marcia by his side. A fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed to someone with an eye for finer details like Elise.
“Get out of my way, Elise,” Logan declared, knowing he could either fight with Elise or track down his son to dangle him by his shoelaces from the nearest balcony. “I doubt you want to go to fight with me, Logan,” Elise taunted, her eyes scanning around the room to ensure that no one had spotted the dynastic clash that was happening in the very back of the ballroom. “What? You and that pretty little wife of yours,” Logan scoffed with a shake of his head.
“Jealous, Logan?” Elise pressed, straightening her back as she caught sight of her wife’s blonde mane across the room, the platinum threads of her dress catching the light of the chandelier above her. But Elise wasn’t the only person admiring her wife. “Waste of a woman is what she is,” Logan remarked, the venom in his voice setting her teeth on edge. She could tell by the way Logan was eyeing up her wife exactly what he had meant by that comment. It was hardly the first time she had heard it - but it had a viler meaning coming from him.
Elise downed the rest of her drink, droplets of red wine giving her lips a glossy hue. As if she had just pushed her teeth into Eden’s juiciest red apple. “You’re a dead man walking, Logan Roy. But you surely know that,” she hissed, leaning closer to him as she kept her eyes fixed on the room around them, setting her empty wine glass down on the table in front of them.
Logan straightened his blazer, grinding his teeth. “You Wards never do very well against me. How’s your father these days?” he asked, turning the conversation on its head.
Roy 1 - Ward 1
Elise felt her jaw tighten. Her father had stepped from his duty as CEO of Ward Inc. two years beforehand. While the press release at the time citied a desire to enjoy his retirement, those nearest to the Wards’ inner circle knew the truth. Dementia. More than once her father had mistaken Selina for being her - the nearest he had come to remembering that he had a daughter of his own.
She hadn’t stepped up to the role of CEO just yet, continuing at Conde Nast until the time would be right. Selina had been too young when her father retired and she wasn’t ready to compromise her family life to stick another three letters at the end of her name. Maybe she’d never be ready - and that would be okay.
But Logan knew about her father. Men like him always knew about the fatal flaws in others that made them human.
Elise straightened her shoulders, eyes fixed on her wife across the room as she took a sharp intake of breath. “I’m coming for you, Logan. And I’m going to make you cry like the pathetic, weak, little cripple of a man that you are,” she snarled, showing her teeth as she turned to face him, brown eyes bearing into him with all the anger of a protective wife and daughter.
Logan laughed at that. A low chuckle that sounded more like a rumble than an amused laugh, “I’d like to see you - of all people - try,” he taunted, that threatening tone back in his voice as he leered closer to her. The temperature in the room was starting to rise, even as the guests around them started to file out to the cocktail bars and lounges throughout the hotel.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Logan,” she warned, knowing that what set her family apart from the Roy family was that one simple human emotion. Love. Perhaps it was because being an only child meant there were no siblings for her parents to have pitted her against. Not in the way that Logan had tormented his children.
Her parents had only ever been married to each other. There hadn’t been a second wife married for her societal connections and easy access to men with money in their pockets to burn. The worst scandal to come out of the Ward family in the last twenty years had been her mother’s hideous choice of purple taffeta dress for the President’s inauguration ball in 2009.
But Elise couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled under, the weight of Logan Roy’s demonic ego hovering over her. Was this what it felt like to be dragged down to the pits?
“What are you going to do? Bankrupt yourself trying to buy my company,” Logan taunted, tilting his head to look at her. But Logan couldn’t tower over her - not with the help of those stilettos that put the height advantage back in her favour.
Elise smirked at that, burgundy red lips curling up into a teasing smile. “Now, that sounds like an excellent wedding present for my wife. She’s well overdue one,” she remarked, as though storing the thought away at the back of her brain, in her own clever little colour-coordinated filing cabinet. A courthouse elopement and a week in Nantucket was all Lily had gotten. Perhaps a golden apple was what her wife deserved.
The pressure started to rise. “And what would happen to your Lily then? Isn’t she why you haven’t had the balls to take the CEO job,” Logan gibed, his eyes once more darting back across the room to where the woman in question stood with Stewie and Sandi.
Elise bit her tongue. This was hardly the place to start comparing dick sizes - metaphorical or literal. The fact Logan hadn’t brought up Selina confirmed to her that he didn’t know about the girl. “You seem awfully concerned about my wife,” she pointed out, glancing at the water on the table at the off-chance a miracle might happen for it to turn into wine.
Logan levelled with her. “She hates me. Hates Waystar for taking her parents from her. What are you going to do? Buy it for her and wrap it up with a big bow like it’s a Mercedes convertible?” he mocked with a laugh that turned Elise’s stomach. Lily didn’t need a Mercedes when she drove a Bentley. Not that Logan would know that. “I think Lily could be persuaded to turn her back on all this mischief,” he mused aloud with a glazed look in his eyes that made a chill run down Elise’s spin.
Everyone had a weakness. An achilles’ heel. Logan couldn’t find theirs. Not when Lily had given up over four years with her mother to keep their daughter away from the sadistic inferno that was the Roy family’s inner circle.
For now they were in limbo. The first circle of hell. But lust, gluttony, and greed had already set them on the path which had brought them where they were today.
Elise stepped closer, faking a beaming smile for the sake of the nearby guests as she leaned closer, one hand on Logan’s shoulder as if she was whispering a joke in his ear. “Touch my wife and it’ll be the last thing you do, Logan,” she warned, her jaw clenching as her eyes narrowed.
There it was. The fifth circle. Wrath.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Logan continued, ignoring Elise’s threat as he reached out to touch the white cape at the back of her dress, running his fingers along the very edge of the fabric to straighten it. “I always assumed she’d follow in Baird’s footsteps but alas. Nothing more than wasted potential. She could have made a man very happy. Still might you know. That little heretic,” he cursed, the venom seeping into every word.
They descended to the seventh circle of hell. Violence. Elise dug her nails into Logan’s arm, her eyes fixed on him as she watched him grind his teeth.
“You’re a fraud, Logan. You’ve spent your life hiding behind better men than yourself. All you’ve ever done is terrorise people into doing your dirty work for you,” Elise accused, stepping forward to place the heel of her stiletto into the top of Logan’s shiny black Oxford shoes. She kept her eyes fixed on his face as he gulped, eyes twitching as he tried not to react. “Can I tell you something, Logan?” she paused, nails digging once more into his arm as she ran her thumb across the wrinkles on his cheek.
“They’re going to kill you. Your kids,” Elise whispered, the corner of her lips pulling into a smile. She looked out across Logan’s shoulder to where Shiv stood in the distance with Tom, the two of them seemingly arguing over something. It wouldn’t be Shiv. Not when it would come down to it.
The ninth circle. Treachery.
“Figuratively, of course.” Elise assured him, turning her eyes from Shiv and back to the woman’s father. “Personally, I’m betting on Roman to deliver the death blow,” she mused, pursing her lips. Roman had already blindsided his father once. Put the knife in his hand and he might just plunge it in. “But we can only hope. Can’t we, Logan?” she mused, letting go of his arm as she glanced down at her tank watch. 11:03pm.
“I think it’s past your bedtime, old man,” Elise observed, patting his arm before she walked around the man, snatching the side of her cape from his fingers as she made a beeline across the room. Lily was standing with her back to her, talking with her hands to Sandi before the older woman pointed out her presence.
“There you are,” Lily greeted with a smile, but her words fell on deaf ears as Elise reached out to grab her by the waist, one hand slipping into her hair as she kissed her. The sound of heels walking away made it clear that Lily’s companions had gotten the message. Elise pulled away a moment later, running her thumb across the corner of Lily’s lips, wiping away the red lipstick she had smudged off.
“What’s gotten into you?” Lily chuckled, wrapping her arms loosely around Elise’s neck as the woman pulled her in at the waist. “Ugh, it doesn’t matter. Come here. I want to dance with you,” Elise declared cheerfully, grabbing her wife by the hand as she pulled her towards the dance floor where several other couples were waltzing to the end of the orchestra’s latest classical take on a contemporary piece.
Elise stopped them in the middle of the dancefloor, taking Lily in her arms as she looked over her shoulder at Logan. The man had perched himself at the bar. A whisky in hand as he watched the two women dance. Elise knew then she had to do something about Logan Roy.
Large parties were the most intimate of them all. Nick remembered Nancy saying that once to him, but now he knew it was right. He had lost Natalia and Hugo almost ten minutes ago - with virtually no sign of them. The hotel layout didn’t help with all its little nooks and crannies. He had given up on finding them on the ground floor.
He hit re-dial on the number he had already called eight times. It rang as normal until it went to voicemail - for the ninth time. “Roman, mate, you need to call me back. Shit has just hit the fan. Seriously, call me,” Nick warned, hanging up the phone as he started heading up the staircase towards the second floor.
There would be no point checking the Presidential Suite. Even if Roman was in there, he wouldn’t answer the door.
He had just reached the area on the second floor where the residents’ bar was when he caught sight of a woman in a familiar black dress getting into the elevator just before the doors closed. Natalia. Nick glanced at the illuminated numbers above the elevator door, watching as the metal box headed up to the sixth floor - where he assumed either Natalia or Hugo had their room.
Where the fuck was Hugo?
That was what worried Nick most. He unlocked his phone again and hit re-dial. “Roman, buddy, Call me as soon as you get this. We’ve got a problem. A fucking huge one,” Nick said, adding another voicemail to his boss’ phone before he walked towards the residents’ bar. It only took him a minute to catch sight of Hugo sitting at the bar with a freshly poured whisky.
“We’ve got him now, Nicky boy,” Hugo cried in delight as he got up from the stool and thumped Nick on the back. “Natalia’s our ticket up,” he announced in a hushed whisper, waving for the younger man to follow him towards the archway at the entrance to the bar. The bar itself was relatively full. Several of the RECNY ball guests who were staying at the hotel had come to the bar for a quiet drink, while a dozen Waystar employees were seated around a long wooden table at the far end of the room.
Nick gulped as he straightened his tie. “Thought she’d be useful for something,” he agreed, listening with wide eyes as Hugo told him what he had learnt from Natalia. That she had been hired to create a scene that would allow Roman and Gerri to stage a fake breakup for a relationship that hadn’t been real in the first place. “Listen, I’ll get to work on this. You just keep Romeo off our tails,” Hugo declared, taking his phone out of his pocket as he downed the rest of his whiskey, setting it down on the bar counter before returning back to the archway.
“Wait, Hugo. What are you trying to get out of this?” Nick asked, stopping the man before he could walk out beyond the archway that acted as the entrance for the bar. Hugo smirked as he stopped texting for a minute to look at the younger man. “Karolina’s job, for starters. Might get enough money out of this little scheme to buy my own PJ. What type does your dad have, Nicky?” he asked, already seeing dollar signs in front of his eyes. “Uh, I don’t know, a G550 or something?” Nick shrugged, having never particularly paid much attention to his father’s assortment of toys.
Hugo stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on Nick’s arm. “Don’t worry, Nicky, you’re coming up with me,” he assured him, well aware that he wouldn’t have gotten this far without his companion. “Roman never should’ve insulted a guy like you by making you an assistant,” Hugo thought aloud, as he pondered for a moment.
“We’ll get you a nice little VP seat or something. Good spot to land until your father kicks the bucket,” Hugo suggested before he patted him on the back once more, picking up his refilled whisky glass before leaving the bar, heading in the direction of the staircase that led down to the ballroom.
Nick waited for him to disappear out of sight before he stuck his hand back into his blazer pocket, once more hitting redial on Roman’s number. He caught sight of Nancy standing just down the hallway.
Wait. Nancy was there.
She wasn’t just there.
She had been standing in the shadows of the archway where he had found Hugo. Nick could see the whites of her eyes. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head. No matter how much he tried to, Nick couldn’t get the words to form in his mouth.
“It was all a lie, wasn’t it?” Nancy asked coldly, her voice laced with something Nick had never heard from her before. “No. No, Nanc,” he stumbled over his words, stepping forward as Nancy turned away from him, only to circle back to face him a moment later. She had heard everything. And it suddenly hit Nick how that conversation must have sounded from her point of view. It would have sounded to Nancy just how it had sounded to Hugo. A convincing charade.
“What the fuck, Nick?” Nancy hissed, gloved arms thrown to the side as she stepped towards him, making him step back a little. “I thought you were different. Turns out you’re just like every other little rich boy in New York with a superiority complex,” she snarled, something poking at the corner of her eyes. But she wouldn’t let herself cry in front of him. Not here.
She turned on her heel, the stiletto scraping against the marble floor as she started to walk back in the direction of the staircase. “Nancy, Nanc, wait, I can explain –” Nick pleaded, walking after her as the guests that were milling around them started to look in their direction. Nancy snapped back around to face him once more. “Stop it! How much has Roman done for you? And you repay him like this?” she hissed, careful not to raise her voice in case anyone nearby was listening in. Hopefully the hotel guests would simply assume they were just another couple fighting at the end of a party.
Something flashed in Nancy’s eyes then and Nick felt the ground shake beneath him. Her face flinched, eyes squinting as her lip twitched. The moment of realisation. Nancy took a sharp intake of breath, as if the air entering her lungs was stabbing her heart on the way down. A thousand little tiny fractures along the fault line. For a moment, Nancy thought she could hear the crack as it broke apart.
“Oh, god, it was you , wasn’t it? You spoke to the press. You sold the pictures. You’ve been telling Hugo. Has Logan been paying you off as well? What’s another 500k when you have 50 million in your fucking trust fund?” she accused, her voice getting higher as she closed the gap between them, fingers poking at his chest as she pushed him back. Nick reached out to grab her wrist to hold her in place. “You used me. I was just a part of your con with Hugo,” she cried, wondering how she had been so blind to the lies Nick had told her to win her trust. To use her position as Gerri’s second assistant to spy for Hugo.
Nick shook his head as he failed once more to find the words he needed. Nancy didn’t know that it had all been a lie. That he had lied to Hugo in a bid to get information on whatever he was planning. Nick had given him the tip on Roman and Gerri that day to earn his trust. And since then the older man had told him everything.
“No, no. Nanc, look. It might have started out that way. Shit, it never started out that way. Not really,” he tried to explain, hands on the white opera gloves that covered her arms as he tried to stop her from leaving. “I’m mad about you, Nanc. Absolutely mad about you,” Nick pleaded, wide eyed as he watched Nancy shake her head, a red flush on her cheeks.
Nancy hit him once more in the chest, a feeble hit that felt more like a tap as she turned on her heel to walk away from him. “Stop it. From the very beginning you lied and I not only believed you, I –” she stopped herself from saying it. From admitting to him how she had felt. How he had made her feel.
“Nancy, please!” Nick shouted, running up to step in front of her, starting to walk backwards as he tried to block her path. “I never meant to drag you into this. Please. Just let me explain. It’s not what it looks like,” he pleaded, but part of him already knew it was too late. “Listen to me,” Nick pressed, feebly reaching out to grab her wrist once more. She was wearing the bracelet he had bought her for her birthday six months earlier. A diamond tennis bracelet he had stuck in a box labelled “cubic zirconia” because he didn’t want her to know how he felt. Gerri had seen him give it to her and he wondered more than once whether she had told Nancy the truth about that little bracelet.
“I don’t want to hear about anything to do with you, Nicholas Carter. You just leave me alone,” Nancy shouted as her bottom lip trembled, once more trying to get away from him. Nick turned in time to reach out and snatch at her arm, desperate fingers clinging to the exposed skin above her white opera gloves. He tried to pull her back towards him, anything to keep her from running away. Not until he told her the truth. That it was all a lie but not the lie she thought it was.
He heard the slap before he felt it. Straight across his cheek with more strength than he had expected. It would leave a mark, a red handprint across his cheek. The stinging sensation across his lip told him that one of the diamonds from Nancy’s bracelet had caught his skin as her hand worked across his face.
“NANCY!” Nick cried, chasing after her as she darted towards the group that were huddled near the doorframe with their champagne flutes and cigars. “Nancy, please, you have to know the truth!” he called, ignoring the tears that were welling up in his eyes, stinging him once more. But she had disappeared, pushing her way between the group and ducking under the arm of one of the men to make her escape. He caught the feathered hem of her dress disappearing around the corner as he reached the top of the staircase.
The ground floor of the Ritz Carlton felt more like Picaddily Circus at 3pm on Christmas Eve than the peace and tranquillity you would expect to find behind the doors of such a great New York institution. While most of the guests were still in the ballroom, small groups had made their way to several of the cocktail bars and lounges down the hallway. The side business to the main event. Lily wondered how many millions of dollars worth of corporate deals were being negotiated for at that very moment. A charity ball was never just a party. It was a business opportunity. Everything was a business opportunity if you looked at it the right way.
But what Lily was searching for wasn’t a business opportunity. It was Waystar Royco’s illustrious Head of PR. Once Elise had stopped spinning her around on the dance floor, Lily had come to a realisation.
No one had prepped a press release for Roman’s announcement. Not that you could prep anything for an on-the-fly announcement, but Lily had watched enough reruns of Murder She Wrote to know it was in the finer details that a devious plan could fall apart.
She eventually found Karolina hidden in the corner of one of the cocktail bars, sitting on a chaise lounge as she typed manically on her phone. Karolina was doing exactly what Lily had expected her to be doing. Single-handedly trying to put out the storm.
Karolina looked up from her phone when the platinum hem of Lily’s dress entered her line of sight. “How’s your mom?” she asked, before her eyes even reached the young woman’s face. Lily shrugged, fidgeting with the clasp of her bracelet as she sat herself down on the chaise lounge next to the PR executive. “How would you feel if you were suddenly announced as permanent CEO without your prior knowledge?” she pondered with a sigh. Now that she was over the initial shock of it all, Lily was starting to question whether something had been put in Roman’s wine or if he really had grown a set of balls.
The PR executive stopped her frenzied typing. “How did you know Roman went off script?” she questioned, setting her phone down into the lap of her black velvet evening dress. “Elise and I were with her. Mom’s poker face hasn’t worked on me since I was 11,” Lily reminded Karolina as she chanced a glance at the woman’s phone screen, seeing an opened Google Doc with a list of bullet points. The first outline for a press release, if Lily’s years in advertising had taught her anything.
“You need to draft a press release. ASAP. I know enough editors to be able to get it fast track into tomorrow’s papers before the final print deadline. We can have them on the digital versions within an hour,” Lily offered, her mind having already worked through the potential PR disaster that they were heading for. While Roman’s gesture had been bold, it had also left the PR department blind sided. The lack of a press release or an official line from Waystar Royco would set alarm bells ringing amongst the city’s business editors. They couldn’t get caught out on a finer detail like a press release. And official confirmation to the media would stop any potential shenanigans from Logan to brush Roman’s announcement off as a flight of fancy.
Karolina watched as Lily stood from the chaise lounge, retrieving her phone from her clutch bag. The very last thing she had expected was the eldest Kellman to help her put out the media storm started by Roman’s off-script announcement. “Lily, not that I don’t appreciate the help, but…” Karolina paused, not sure the best way to phrase her question. Navigating the Kellmans (and the Roys, for that matter) required a delicate balancing act, like a ballerina’s pirouettes.
“Why now?” Lily asked, looking up from her phone as she glanced around the small cocktail bar, relieved that it appeared empty of any RECNY ball guests. The bartender and an older gentleman, whom Lily didn’t recognise from the party, were at the other side of the room watching what appeared to be a motorsports race on the flat screen. But still, Lily had long ago learnt that even the walls had ears in these places.
She pursed her lips, running her tongue across the top one as she swallowed. “I love my mother. I may not always act as if I do. And we all know I’ve fucked up more than once. But I’m on her side now,” Lily announced, knowing she would inevitably come to regret the harm she had caused her mother. Those years apart. The years she had missed out on. With all of them. This was the first step to fixing things.
Karolina nodded her head in understanding. She had observed the mother and daughter long enough to know that the fractured relationship was slowly mending itself. The stitches of the family tapestry coming back together again after being torn to shreds when they lost Baird.
“Meet me up in our room. We’re in the Royal Suite. The lounge can be our war room,” Lily suggested, eyeing up a familiar looking couple as they stepped into the bar. It was time to move the conversation to somewhere a little more private. “Lily,” Karolina called, stopping the blonde woman before she could get more than a two or three steps from the chaise lounge. “You’d be good at Waystar, you know,” she offered, watching as Lily smirked to herself. It clearly hadn’t been the first time someone had said that to her. The blonde stepped back towards her, one hand on the chaise lounge and she leaned forward. “I don’t intend to put Logan into an early grave just yet,” Lily teased, winking at Karolina before finally making her exit from the cocktail bar.
Karolina and Lily were already on their final draft by the time Elise arrived in the suite, carrying her Manolos in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. “I leave you for an hour and you’ve got another woman in our room, my, my, Lillian,” Elise teased with a chuckle that told Lily that her wife was several glasses - if not bottles - deep. “That’s what happens when you take your eye off the prize, darling,” Lily remarked, eyes fixed on the legal pad in front of her as she scribbled something in cursive handwriting. Karolina shuffled in her spot on the opposite sofa, watching as Elise dropped her Manolos onto the floor before crawling onto the sofa, sighing dramatically as she rested her head down on her wife’s lap.
“Darling, are those my glasses?” Elise giggled, looking at the black spectacles that were perched on the end of Lily’s nose as she moved her leg pad to set it on the armrest. “So that’s where they disappeared to,” she chuckled to herself, reaching up to take them off Lily’s face before the blonde tapped her hand away. “You still have your contacts in, angel eyes,” Lily reminded her, folding over the legs of the glasses and setting them down on top of her legal pad.
“I think we’re done here anyway, Lily.” Karolina smiled, gathering up her things as she closed over the laptop that she had retrieved from her own room on the 10th floor before coming to Lily’s suite. It was then that a thought hit her. “So we’re just going to send this out without Logan’s approval?” Karolina paused, knowing that was the one stumbling block they had left to overcome. Usually either Gerri or Logan would sign off on a press release relating to executive or C-suite personale. But they could hardly ask either of them to do that now.
“I can forge my mother’s signature if it’ll make you feel better, Karolina,” Lily suggested as she leaned back on the sofa, her fingers slowly working at pulling the long pins out of Elise’s hair, freeing her curls from the low chignon her wife had styled it in. Lily had learnt how to do her mother’s signature by the age of 10 - around the same time Gerri had started to forget to sign her attendance record and her book reports.
“I’ll stick her digital signature on it. Don’t worry. You’ve already messaged your contacts, so I’ll have this over with them in five,” Karolina explained as she headed towards the door, shouting a half-hearted ‘goodnight’ over her shoulder. Not that either of the couple were likely to have heard it, if Lily’s giggles had been anything to go off as the door shut behind Karolina.
Across the floor in the Presidential Suite, another Kellman was giggling to herself. “Why did you buy me this?” Gerri questioned, fingers dancing across the stones of her necklace, the platinum setting cold against her bare skin. “I wasn’t planning on it,” Roman confessed with a shrug, though he thanked his past self for giving him the view that he was currently enjoying. “Oh,” Gerri paused, raising an eyebrow as she waited expectantly to hear how Roman had managed to impulse buy a necklace worth more than the average house.
“ Went for a walk to clear my head and somehow ended up in a jewellery store,” Roman admitted from where he stood across the room in a pair of grey pyjama bottoms, “Rather expensive walk,” Gerri remarked against the rim of her glass as she took another sip.
But it was worth every cent and dime for the sight in front of him.
Roman had raided the bar cart in the lounge to make two martinis when Gerri had gone to take off her makeup. He was examining the damage to the back of the dress while Gerri was curled up in the centre of the king-sized bed, a crumpled white sheet wrapped around her with her hair half fallen-out of its twist. Gerri nursed a martini in one hand, her teeth pulling one of the olives off the toothpick as she watched Roman walk around the room with her dress in hand. She had wrapped the sheet across her chest, just below where the largest diamond fell.
He had been right. Gerri really could wear nothing but that diamond necklace. Perhaps he’d leave the De Beers box beside her bed and hedge his bets on a repeat performance - or two.
“It’s after midnight,” Gerri pointed out as Roman dropped himself back down onto the bed beside her, swiping her martini glass and taking the last sip before setting it on the bedside table.
Roman reached out to take her hand, running his thumb across her ring finger. There was still a slight indent there. He supposed thirty years of wearing a wedding band would do that. “You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin now, are you, G-Spot?” he asked as he sprawled out across the king-size bed, hiding a yawn behind the back of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips.
“Cinderella didn’t turn into a pumpkin. The carriage did,” she corrected him, letting the sheet fall loosely around her as she pulled the duvet back up towards them. “Stop thinking so loud, Ger,” Roman mumbled into her shoulder as he pulled her on top of him, covering him as if she was a weighted blanket before Gerri leaned over to turn off the bedside light.
Across the suite, Roman’s phone screen illuminated in the lounge. A stack of notifications quickly appeared. British Airways. iMessage. WhatsApp. Missed Call. iMessage. The final message at the top read:
Maddie Kellman: Heading to the runway now. See you at JFK.
Notes:
....and with that, we're about to start act 3 of this fic. If you've got the theme shift, good for you! If you haven't, here's the quote from this chapter that you need to keep in mind.
"Lies had become secrets. The secrets they’d keep from each other. Never out of malice or spite - but out of a need to protect the other. Secrets that served their interests.”
Chapter 19: Lost in Translation
Notes:
A 7k chapter? Before you start thinking "is Cleo okay?", I promise the novella length chapters will be coming back soon. Chapters 21 to 25 are *big* chapters because that's where all the drama and resolution sits.
Anywho, this chapter - and the next one - are very character driven, while also getting us to certain places plot wise. So, I suppose, enjoy the fluff while it lasts.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Madeline Kellman had travelled to 121 countries, lost her passport 13 times, and almost got banned from the Schengen zone for overstaying her 90 days. She had learnt how to cliff jump in Bali and mastered the art of winemaking in Provence. Her French and Italian were fluent, but her German and Greek were passable. Somewhere along the way she had picked up enough Thai to hold a basic conversation.
Yet there was a certain homely feeling that always greeted her when she walked through the arrivals terminal at JFK.
“Mads,” Erik said, stopping Madeline’s train of thought as they headed towards the main exit of the arrivals terminal. “Yeah?” she asked, turning to look at her boyfriend, wondering if he was feeling as sleep deprived as she was. “I don’t see your name on any of these,” he pointed out, nodding his head towards the sea of private drivers standing with name cards. Not a single one of them said anything that resembled her name - and there was no Roman in sight either.
Erik was right. No one was there for them. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her Levi jeans, not surprised when she didn’t see any messages from her mother’s boyfriend.
“Hey, babes, go and see if that Starbucks has any iced matcha and I’ll call Roman,” Madeline suggested, nodding her head towards the Stardbucks at the corner of the arrivals terminal. The terminal was a sea of private chauffeurs, tour operators, and family members waiting to pick up passengers from the latest arrivals to JFK.
“Roman. Hi, it’s Madeline - again. You didn’t reply to any of my messages but you told me you would be here to pick us up and well…” Maddie paused, looking around the arrivals hall once more in case she had missed him. “I don’t see you or anyone from Waystar. Give me a call. We can wait a few minutes then I’ll just call an Uber,” she decided, hanging up the phone as she did one last check of the drivers in front of her.
Madeline scrolled through her notifications, having spent her time on the flight from London reading Jane Eyre instead of being glued to her phone screen. The stack of notifications were most the usual social media alerts, but there was a text message from Lily stuck in between them all.
The WhatsApp chat opened, several photos of Selina loading at the top, the latest message taking a second to download over the airport wi-fi. “Holy shit,” Maddie muttered, watching as the photo of her mother and older sister popped up on her screen. Since when did her mom start looking like that? And when had her mom and Lily suddenly become best friends again? It suddenly made more sense now why Roman had asked her to come back - forking out for first-class tickets with British Airways.
It was then that an idea popped into her head.
She scrolled over to her contacts, searching for the name she needed before hitting the call button. It took five rings for the person on the other end to pick up. “Bonjour, Madeline. What part of the world are you calling me from this time?” Elise greeted, looking out the window of her Ritz-Carlton suite towards the direction of Central Park.
“The arrivals terminal at JFK,” Madeline dead-panned, looking back over her shoulder to where Erik was ordering their drinks. “Is my sister there?” she asked quickly, not wanting to get distracted by her sister-in-law. “She’s on the phone to Selina in the other room, do you want me to go and get her?” Elise suggested, confused as to why the younger woman was even in the United States, let alone in New York. “No. I’m here as a surprise for mom. Roman arranged it. I’d like it to be a surprise for Lily as well,” Madeline explained, glancing at the time on the clock over her head. It was still early enough though and her mother probably hadn’t gone for breakfast yet.
“If Roman’s arranged it, why are you calling me from the airport?” Elise questioned, though she sensed that she already knew the answer. “He was meant to pick us up and well, he’s not here and I can’t get ahold of him. He’s not even read the text I sent him when we took off from London,” Maddie sighed, resisting the urge to make a comment about the reliability of the Roys.
Elise smirked at that, shaking her head as she imagined exactly why Roman hadn’t been checking his phone. “Think Roman was cashing in a thank you for a gift last night,” she joked, virtually hearing her sister-in-law groan in embarrassment on the other side of the phone, clearly reading between the lines. “I’ll have a driver pick you up in 10 minutes. We’re all at the Ritz-Carlton. Come right up to the suites on the top floor. Your mother is in the Presidential Suite. We’ll meet you there.” Elise instructed, exchanging goodbyes before hanging up the phone.
The driver was almost at JFK by the time Erik returned with their Starbucks, complaining about the sacrilege of grown men swapping espressos for frappuccinos. “Elise says the driver is just about to pull up. I’ve got the number plate,” Madeline said, eyes fixed on her phone as they headed back towards the exit. But something had caught Erik’s eye near the automatic doors.
“Maddie,” he stopped them, putting his hand on his girlfriend’s arm to keep her in place. “Yes, babes?” Madeline hummed, looking up from her phone and towards the newspaper stand that Erik was pointing towards. “Isn’t that your Mama?” he questioned, though it was the text above the photo that had caught his attention first. Madeline blinked once. Then twice. A third time for good measure.
Right there above the centrefold of the New York Times was a small photo of Gerri Kellman with the headline ‘Kellman Named Permanent CEO at Waystar’s RECNY Ball ’.
“What the fuck?” she hissed, stepping forward to snatch the copy at the top of the pile. “No one ever tells me anything,” Madeline complained, flicking through the newspaper in search of the business section as Erik pulled their suitcase behind him as they walked towards the pick up area outside the terminal.
Roman had just finished tipping the room service waiter when his phone started to ring on the coffee table. He caught it in time before it fell off the stack of magazines he had abandoned it on the night before, his ‘do not disturb’ setting having finally disabled itself. “Roman, good morning,” Elise greeted as he picked up the phone, her voice sounding too chipper for this time of the morning. “What can I do for you, Elise?” Roman asked, turning back towards the breakfast cart to pour himself a coffee. Though maybe it was the hair of the dog that was in order.
A moment or two passed, as though Elise was waiting for the penny to drop before she spoke again. “Have you forgotten something?” she questioned and Roman pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at the time and date before putting it back in place again. Why was Elise calling him anyway? The woman was literally down the hallway from him. “Fucked over my dad. Got wasted. Fucked Gerri. No, can’t say I have,” he responded, taking a sip of his coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon.
Elise pursed her lips, making a mental note to tease the man about it all at a later date. “Let me give you a hint. She’s about 5 foot 2, unruly blonde hair. Your girlfriend’s youngest daughter and she was coming over on a Boeing 777,” she hinted, drawing out each word as she waited for the man to finally realise his mistake. It took him until the mention of the plane to put two and two together.
“Shit, fuck, I’m an idiot,” Roman muttered, slapping his hand against his forehead as he tried to keep his voice down, though he could hear the hairdryer going from the master bedroom. Trust him to almost ruin the surprise by forgetting to pick Madeline up from the airport. “Look, I’ve sorted it. One of my drivers has her and her boyfriend on route to the hotel now,” Elise assured him, the noise on the other end of the phone making Roman assume she was drinking her own coffee.
“I owe you one, Elise,” Roman replied, before cursing himself as he burnt his tongue on his coffee, setting the offending drink back down onto the coffee cart. “Where’s your roommate?” Elise asked, walking around her suite as she went in search of her shoes to finish getting dressed. “She’s just out of the shower,” Roman commented, having been pushed out of the shower by his so-called roommate so that she could shampoo her hair in peace. “Well, Maddie’s car is going to be here in like ten minutes. I’ll bring Lily over to your suite,” she concluded, ending the call a moment later to check on her own roommate.
“Geraldine!” Roman shouted as he hung up his phone, setting it down on the room service cart as he headed back in the direction of the master bedroom. “Are you modest?” he called, adjusting the waistband of his grey pyjama bottoms as he turned the corner.
“What type of question is that?” Gerri asked as Roman leaned against the doorframe to look into the master bedroom, where Gerri was getting ready. Her vanity case and skincare had been set-up at the writing desk where Gerri appeared to be giving herself a blowout. One round brush was tucked in under a large strand of blonde hair with a Dyson hairdryer in Gerri’s other hand. But that wasn’t what had caught his attention. “Well, that’s a disappointing answer,” Roman pouted, eyeing the fluffy white Ritz-Carlton branded bathrobe that Gerri had dressed herself in.
Gerri rolled her eyes before she shifted her focus back to brushing out her freshly blow-dried hair. “You need to be ready in like ten,” Roman told her as he headed across the room to the closet where the room host had put away their clothes the day before. “For what?” Gerri questioned, peeking her head out from behind the mirror to look at him.
“I don’t know, maybe the President is going to show up or something, I don’t know. Just be dressed,” Roman insisted, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as he tried to get ready in time to make the lounge look somewhat presentable for their new arrivals. Gerri ran the round brush through the ends of her hair as Roman tucked his shirt into his trousers, searching around the floor for the Ferragamo belt he had thrown off the night before. “Come on, G. Chop, chop!’ he tutted, narrowly dodging the towel that Gerri threw at him.
The next five minutes were spent trying to make the lounge look somewhat presentable. Gerri’s Manolo box and their garment bags got thrown into the unused second bedroom, before Roman tried to fix up the bar cart to make it look as if they hadn’t raided it the night before.
A light knock at the door echoed through the room as Roman pushed the room service cart out of the way, the food and drink still untouched. He glanced towards the door to the master bedroom, checking Gerri hadn’t heard the knock, before making his way to the entrance hallway.
“Where’s Lily?” Roman questioned in a hushed voice as Elise appeared in front of him, walking through to the lounge, dropping her Birkin bag down onto the coffee table. “Waiting on the room attendant to bring up the newspapers she requested. She’ll be like three minutes tops, Rome,” Elise assured him as she took off the blazer of her pantsuit, setting it over the armrest of the sofa.
Roman fiddled with the cuffs, rolling them up and straightening them twice before settling for pressing his hands into his lower back. “You’re not nervous, are you? Surely, you’ve met Maddie before,” Elise observed with an amused tone to her voice as she crossed one leg over the other, turning her iPhone in her hand. “Yeah when she was like a kid, but never as…” Roman paused, shrugging his shoulders as he walked over to the breakfast cart, nabbing a handful of grapes. While he had vague memories of a teenage Madeline Kellman, he had never met her in… this capacity.
“What was it like when you met her for the first time?” he asked Elise over his shoulder, turning back around as he heard her snort. “Maddie thought Lily’s ‘big news’ was that she was pregnant, not that she was getting married to a woman . So, this 5 foot 2 blonde rocked up ready to fight some asshole of a guy for getting her sister knocked up out of wedlock,” Elise chuckled, shaking her head as she thought back to the scene of her sister-in-law barging through the doors of The Polo Bar in her denim overalls and sneakers ready to defend her big sister’s honour.
“And what did she do when she saw you sitting on the other side of the table?” Roman questioned, popping a grape into his mouth as he sat down on the arm rest of the sofa opposite the older woman. Elise smirked, licking her lips as she tilted her head to the side. “Bought us a round of tequila shots,” she recalled, vividly remembering the sight of Madeline forcing her sister to take a celebratory shot before dragging them all to the West Village. Lily had ended up with the worst hangover Elise had ever seen, taking two days, three yoga classes, and a juice cleanse to recover from it.
A knock sounded at the door and Roman jumped from the sofa, not wanting the noise to bring Gerri out too early. He opened the door, stepping behind it as he watched the blonde step into the room, a dark haired man following after her with a black suitcase wheeling beside him.
“Wow, this is swanky,” Madeline whistled in a low voice as she walked through the Presidential Suite, dropping her hiking backpack onto the floor as she looked around. “Hey, Elise,” she greeted, stepping forward to hug her sister-in-law before she turned to look at the man hovering awkwardly near them, having moved out from behind the door. “Thanks for forgetting about me, mister,” Maddie teased, shaking her head at Roman as she debated whether she should shake his hand or give him a hug. In the end she decided against either.
“Sorry about that,” Roman acknowledged, not quite sure what to make of the youngest Kellman girl. Madeline didn’t look as though she had just walked off an 8 hour flight, but she wasn’t as polished as her older sister. There was a vibrancy to Maddie that reminded him of the photos he had seen of Gerri in her library. The ones of her on her travels during her early to mid-20s. Perhaps there was more of Gerri in Madeline than he had expected there to be.
The sliding doors of the master bedroom opened then, revealing Gerri on the other side, fixing one of her little gold hoop earrings.
“Rome, is breakfast….” Gerri paused, her words dying on her lips as she blinked twice, eyes finally fixing on the blonde woman standing in the middle of her hotel suite. “Madeline?” she questioned, lips parted as she stepped across the threshold, making a beeline towards her. “What are you doing here?” Gerri cried, eyes beaming as she reached forward to pull the girl towards her for a hug. “Hey, Momma,” Madeline chuckled, squeezing the woman for a moment before lifting her head off Gerri’s shoulder, looking up at the woman who stood a few inches taller than her in her Manolos.
“Well, we wanted to be here for your birthday but Erik had a skydive booked and I promised I would go to this wedding and anyway it doesn’t matter now,” she explained, though part of her felt even more guilty now for having missed her mother’s birthday for a fifth year in a row. They hadn’t properly celebrated it in over a decade, since before her father had died. But nothing had really been properly celebrated since Baird died.
“But how did you get here?” Gerri questioned, running her hand along the end of her daughter’s long ponytail. She was well aware of how much a flight from Europe to New York would have cost at short notice and there hadn’t been any large charges on the AmEx that she had given Madeline in case of emergencies. “Roman bought our tickets,” Maddie explained, looking up at her mother like she was still the six-year-old who would sneak into her office to ask her to braid her hair before bedtime. Gerri found herself speechless for the second time in as many minutes, shifting her focus from Madeline to Roman, who simply shrugged his shoulders at her.
Another voice floated into the room before Gerri could say anything. “Is that Madeline I hear?” Lily questioned, stepping into the room in a long satin skirt with a white button-up blouse tucked in, an Hermes scarf tied loosely around her neck. Maddie turned around in time to see her older sister appear in the doorway, newspapers in one hand and her phone in the other.
While Lily and Madeline looked alike, that was where the similarities seemed to end. They were as different as the stars and the moon, yet destined to co-exist side by side in perfect harmony. Their clothes alone told Roman that the two Kellman girls were nothing alike. Lily was the Ralph Lauren archetype, while her younger sister was the walking stereotype of the backpacker. Vintage Levi jeans and an ‘80s band t-shirt with a stack of jade bracelets and a little evil eye pendant.
“LILY!” Madeline cried, moving around the sofa to jump at her big sister before the other woman could even reach the coffee table. Elise reached out to take the newspapers from her wife to give the woman a chance to hug her sister. “How are you even here? You’re meant to be in Europe,” Lily questioned, squeezing her younger sister tightly against her in a way that seemed just as maternal as how Gerri had held her. Though it had always been her older sister that Maddie had turned to after their father died.
“How’s my niece?” Madeline grinned, beaming up at the blonde woman who towered over her in her stilettos. “Is she here?” she asked, looking around as though expecting the four-year old to appear through the door behind Lily, ballet shoes in hand.
Gerri pursed her lips as she tried not to linger on the thought of Madeline having seemingly known about Selina all along. Perhaps she had already spent time with her. Experienced the little girl’s life through more than just photos and videos shot on someone’s iPhone. Gerri had only ever seen her granddaughter through a screen - if you didn’t count that fleeting glance as she left Lily’s house all those weeks ago. Her youngest daughter had clearly been in on it - but the Kellman sisters had always been each other’s secret keepers.
Gerri sat herself down next to Elise, while Roman took the empty spot on the opposite sofa across from her as the group’s attention finally turned to the blonde haired man standing by the breakfast cart. “Momma, Lily, this is my boyfriend, Erik,” Madeline introduced him, reaching out to take her boyfriend’s hand and pull him forward. The blonde-haired Dane awkwardly waved at the four of them as Lily slipped into the empty space on the sofa next to Roman. “Erik, that’s Elise and that’s Roman,” Maddie explained, nodding her head towards each of them in turn.
Erik paused for a moment, looking at the two couples, divided across the sofas. He seemed confused for a moment until a lightbulb appeared to go off over his head. “Oh, it is a new thing isn't it? Women coming out as gay later in life,” Erik pointed out, his Danish accent evident as he tried to muddle his way through the sentence in English.
Elise and Gerri looked at each other, confused expressions mirroring between them, but neither could say a word. Lily looked at the man open-mouthed, feeling as though she was experiencing a car crash in slow motion as he turned towards the sofa she was sitting on with Roman. “You must be Selina’s father,” Erik assumed, holding his hand out for Roman to shake, causing the other man to choke on his coffee, narrowly avoiding covering his shirt in it.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” Elise whispered, hand hovering at her forehead as she looked dumb-founded at her sister-in-law’s boyfriend. The two couples on the sofas looked between each other, going from their respective partners to the people sitting next to them. “That’s my wife!” Lily protested, pointing the index finger of her left hand at the woman across from her, flashing her engagement and wedding ring in the process.
“ And that’s my….that’s my Gerri,” Roman faltered, stopping himself from saying something he might come to regret. But what was Gerri to him? What did you call someone you buy a $480,000 necklace for? What term of association do you use to describe the person you think of from the moment you wake up in the morning to the second you close your eyes at night - even after that?
Nothing seemed to fit. Girlfriend seemed too trivial. Partner was too close to the corporate jargon that they used everyday. And Roman knew that Gerri would have his head if he called her “my woman.” So, she was just his Gerri.
That seemed to encapsulate it. His Gerri. Just like he was hers.
“I’m…holy shit, Erik ...I am so sorry about him. He does not pay attention,” Madeline apologised, nudging her boyfriend in the arm with her elbow after she regained the ability to speak, wrapping her hand around the man’s arm as she moved him back a little - just in case anyone decided to go nuclear on him.
“Oh, no. No…this is a…how do you say it?” Erik paused, turning to his girlfriend as he tried to figure out the right words for what he was saying. “A fuck up?” Elise offered with a teasing smirk on her lips as her wife reached across to hit her foot with the side of her heels as a warning. It was Roman who took pity on the newcomer. “As far as meeting the family goes, Erik, my boy, that classes as a top five fuck up,” Roman joked, patting the younger man on the back as he stepped around him to refill his coffee cup. Perhaps water would be a safer option - in case anything else got lost in translation and caused another spillage.
Gerri turned to look at Roman as he rummaged around the breakfast cart next to her while Madeline dropped herself down onto his former seat, the two Kellman sisters once more attached at the hip. “Thank you,” Gerri whispered, feeling a familiar prickling at the corner of her eyes as she brushed her fingers against his hand for a moment. She couldn’t cry over this, not in front of the girls. But she’d thank Roman later - in her own way. Perhaps the necklace could come out again, styled with nothing but La Perla and Manolo.
Madeline’s voice distracted her once more as she started to tell Lily about her latest travels to Greece, looking at her sister with the same wide eyes as the little girl who had once been her shadow. Gerri wondered for one brief moment if perhaps it was always destined to happen like this. For those two little stars to go off into the world, paving their own paths, before coming back to her - changed almost beyond recognition, but still the little girls they had once been.
Across Manhattan, another gathering was happening around coffee and pastries. Nancy sat on one side of the booth, head in her hands as Alice sat beside her, trying to encourage her to drink her coffee. The emergency assistants meeting had been called by Emily after watching Nancy high-tail it out of the hotel with Nick hot on her heels. Nancy had managed to hold herself together long enough to tell the two first assistants about what had transpired after the RECNY ball before finally giving into her pent-up feelings.
“Nanc, why don’t you go and get a herbal tea or something to help your headache?” Alice suggested, waiting for the junior assistant to slip out of the booth before she turned to the woman opposite her. “He’s turned his ‘find my iPhone’ settings off,” Emily revealed, setting her own iPhone back down onto the table. Nick had been sharing his location with her since the night he got lost in Japan while out getting them all sushi - but now it wasn’t showing anything at all.
Alice shook her head, tapping her short cherry red nails against the wooden table. “Where is he?” she mused, trying not to let her mind instantly go to the worst case scenario. “Where do most broken-hearted guys go?” she asked her opposite number, well aware that her knowledge of the male mind was limited at best.
“He’ll be away on his bike somewhere - or at the bottom of a bottle,” Emily paused, shaking her head a moment later. Nick always went off on his motorcycle when he had to clear his head, but Emily doubted he would have been in any fit state to get on it. If her hunch was right. “Nick wouldn’t betray Roman. Those two understand each other. They’ve both got fathers who like to fuck with their heads and neither of them are exactly made for the corporate world,” she reminded Alice, having made up her mind that Nick wasn’t the villain that Nancy’s story had painted him to be. There had to have been a misunderstanding or something more to the story.
“Plus, he wouldn’t risk Nancy,” she added, thinking of all the drunken declarations of love for Nancy she had been forced to listen to from Nick. Emily’s eyes darted up towards the counter where Gerri’s second assistant was ordering herself another herbal tea. “He’s mad about her,” she sighed, wrapping her hands around her mug of hot chocolate. The marshmallows and whipped cream were about the only thing keeping her sane at that moment in time. Nick Carter was many things - an overzealous trust fund kid might be one of them - but he wasn’t a traitor.
Alice leaned across the table towards Emily, pushing her own coffee out of the way. “She slapped him,” the first assistant whispered in a hushed voice, watching as her friend’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped. “She did what?” Emily hissed, part of her wishing she had seen that with her own eyeballs - but it seemed to explain why Nancy was so on edge. She knew the second assistant well enough to know the girl would be replaying the slap over and over again in her head in slow motion.
“ You know she’s protective of Gerri. She feels like she owes her a lot. I mean I do as well, but Nancy was just some kid applying for anything going, so that she could make enough money to stay in New York and try to get a photography gig,” Alice tried to explain, thinking of the bushy haired, bright-eyed midwestern girl who had rocked up at Waystar Royco for her interview without any idea who Gerri Kellman or Logan Roy were. Oh, how things had changed.
If Alice was protective of her junior counterpart, Emily was just as protective of hers “There’s something not right here. I’m going to find Nick,” Emily announced, not able to sit around and wait any longer. “So, you’re just going to leave me to deal with post-breakup Nancy?” Alice protested, watching as the woman across from her started to gather her things. “You deal with your second assistant and I’ll deal with my second assistant,” Emily insisted, throwing on her double breasted black blazer as she slipped out of the booth.
“I hear there’s a Kate Spade sample sale happening down off Madison Avenue. Might cheer her up,” she offered, knowing that a part of her felt guilty at leaving Alice alone to tend to Nancy, but someone had to find Nick. “We can make martinis, get ice cream, and cry at Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” Alice sighed into her chai latte, clearly having accepted her fate as babysitter in chief. “That’s what we did when you broke up with Taylor,” Emily pointed out, slipping on her Longchamp backpack before downing the rest of her drink. “Well, it worked,” Alice shrugged, thinking of the three days she had spent sobbing in her apartment after her last break-up, until Nancy and Emily had shown up on her doorstep.
“I’m going to go and find him,” Emily announced, snatching her phone off the table as she made a beeline towards the door, waving at Nancy as she left. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story than just what Nancy had told them. Nick wouldn’t sell them out to Hugo. What did he have to gain from it? The guy had more in his trust fund than the rest of them would probably ever make in their lives combined.
But if there was one Emily was sure about, it was that she needed to find Nick - and before he did anything stupid.
Two streets over, another post-RECNY ball debrief was happening. Hugo sat across from Natalia, reading over the unsigned NDA that she had brought with her to their breakfast ‘meeting.’ If you could call planning a blackmail plot over mimosas and eggs benedicts at Balthazar a meeting. “I think we focus on Roman,” Hugo announced, already suspecting that Logan’s divided attention would mean that he would forget about what it was he and Nick had been working on. He suspected that there would be a change in tactic coming from Logan - a new approach to deal with his son and new-found permanent CEO.
“I’ll show him what we have and present him with our demands,” he offered, straightening his shoulders as he sat a little taller in his seat. Though Hugo still looked shorter than Natalia, even when he was puffing his chest out in a feeble attempt to impress her. “But what’s in this for you, Mon Cherie?” he asked, leaning closer across the table to take her manicured hand.
Natalia had rarely been so glad of her poker face. It stopped her from looking as though she had just been slapped by Hugo’s particular choice of wording. What was it with American men thinking they could speak French?
“I’ll be bluntly honest, Hugo. I’m just in it for the money,” Natalia admitted, comfortable in the knowledge that she’d sell her information to the highest buyer. None of this mattered to her, after all. It was a little like playing with Barbie dolls. If those Barbie dolls were media moguls with billions of dollars in the bank and more than enough contacts to give her a cosy job somewhere or a rich, older husband who could conveniently kick the bucket without a prenup.
“If they want to fill my mouth full of gold until I gag. That number better start with a 1 and have six zeros,” Natalia announced, moving her hand out of Hugo’s reach as she picked up her mimosa, swirling the glass between her fingers. Perhaps there was more than one way to run this blackmail. Natalia smirked to herself as Hugo shifted the conversation to the GoJo acquisition and how its impending closing date would drive up the price they could ask for because of the rumours of Mattson’s supposed preference for working with Roman over Logan.
That was how she had always gotten them. The rich executives who ran their mouths a little too freely in the presence of a beautiful woman. Who divulged company secrets in a bid to impress her, assuming it would all just flow over her head. But Natalia had learnt to be an excellent conversationalist - and the first step in that was understanding exactly what your clients were talking about. Letting them think you were ‘ just’ a pretty face was part of the game.
And Hugo was falling for it every step of the way.
At the Ritz-Carlton, Elise had already left to fetch a porter to take their luggage down to the garage when Lily called her sister out into the hallway of the Presidential Suite. “Mads, can I speak to you for a second?” she asked, standing in the door frame as she watched her mother and sister eating breakfast in the suite’s dining room. “Sure, Lils,” Madeline said, setting down her mimosa as she got up from the table to side-step around her boyfriend’s seat, leaving Erik alone for the first time with Roman and Gerri. “Don’t scare the shit out of my boyfriend, please,” she warned the pair as she headed out of the room, before following Lily down the hallway until they were out of earshot of their mother.
“I need your help,” Lily announced, glancing at the time on the grandfather clock over her sister’s head. “What’s up?” the younger Kellman sister asked, folding her arms against her chest. “I’d like Selina to meet mom tomorrow,” Lily revealed, the tension once more coming to her shoulders as she imagined all the ways that first meeting could possibly go wrong. She had kept the two of them apart for long enough, but there was part of Lily that she was still anxious about them meeting. About those two very different sides of her life finally colliding with each other. It would be like a supernova, two opposing forces finally coming together.
“The little princess is being let out of her tower, wow,” Madeline beamed, though there was an obnoxious teasing tone to her voice as she thought of how overprotective her big sister was of her niece. She knew exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of that treatment.
Lily rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, choosing to ignore her sister’s smart remark. “I’ll text you the address. I just need you to get her there for around 2pm. That’ll give me enough time to get Selina there after her piano lesson,” she explained, cutting right to the point, knowing that she had to high-tail it out of the hotel in the next five minutes to make it in time to pick up her daughter from her ballet class. “The kid does piano?” Madeline questioned, the slowness of her speech showing her obvious disapproval for the four-year old’s busy schedule. “She’s pre-registered at Dalton,” Lily announced, taking out her phone as she texted Elise to let her know she was about to leave.
“Ah,” Madeline breathed, wondering if her sister realised just how much she sounded like their mother. Their parents had put them through piano lessons, ballet classes, and even horse-riding lessons to give them that all-important CV to land them a spot at a school like Dalton.
“Just don’t let her know, okay? I’d like to surprise Mom,” Lily warned, having decided that orchestrating the meeting as a surprise was the best option for them all. She’d have time to prepare Selina and her mother wouldn’t spend the next twenty-eight hours overthinking about meeting her grandchild for the first time. “Give her a heart attack more like,” Madeline muttered, still disapproving of her sister’s decision to have handled the situation as she did. Though Maddie had never been one to fight with anyone, let alone her older sister.
“Well we all know that it’s me that you like to give heart attacks to. I do not need you phoning me from another embassy because you’ve lost your passport for the fourteenth time,” Lily pointed out, picking up her Kelly bag from the table by the entrance of the suite. “We ended up finding it in Erik’s backpack last time,” Madeline protested, hands on her hips as she tried not to think about the embarrassment of standing in the middle of the embassy, mid-way through an emergency passport application when her boyfriend had found it stashed between two copies of National Geographic. “Anyway, look after mom for me,” Lily instructed, turning on her heel to leave. “Give my niece a kiss for me,” Madeline called, waiting for the door to shut behind her sister before going back into the suite’s dining room.
“Mom, can we go shopping tomorrow? I haven’t bought new clothes since before we went to Bali,” she announced, confident that the promise of her mother finally getting to take her clothes shopping would be enough to get Gerri to the meet-up location in time. “Maddie, that was like 10 months ago,” Gerri pointed out, shaking her head as she thought of the backpack that her youngest daughter practically lived out of. “Yeah, I know,” Madeline shrugged, popping an orange slice in her mouth as she started poking around the breakfast cart that had been left at the side of the dining table.
“I need to check my messages, I’ll be back in a bit,” Roman announced, handing his plate of leftover fruit to Gerri as he got up from the table. “Do not go looking at your work emails, Ger,” he warned, pointing towards her as he crossed the room. This had been the longest Roman had seen her go without checking her messages. “Maddie, if she even tries to look at them, it’s your job to stop her,” he added, shooting the younger blonde a look before leaving the suite, swiping his phone from the coffee stand as he went past.
Roman stepped out onto the balcony, tapping into the phone’s voicemail as he shut the sliding glass doors behind him. There were the usual missed calls from a few journalist contacts, no doubt fishing for an exclusive on the announcement, but one thing threw him off.
Nick Carter (13)
He played the first voicemail, before clicking into the second, then getting to the third. Something had happened at the RECNY ball. Something that was serious enough for Nick to have spent most of the night looking for him. But the time-stamp on the final voicemail had been before 11:30 pm and there hadn’t been anything since then. That was enough to make Roman’s heart pound in his ears and the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Three taps of his phone screen later and his phone was pressed against his ear, the familiar dial tone sounding from it. “Emily, where’s Nick?” he asked as soon as his first assistant answered the phone. There was a pause for a minute, as though Emily wasn’t even there. That freaked him out more than the thirteen missed calls.
“Roman, I’m sorry,” Emily acknowledged, her eyes fixed on the man sitting across from her in the pokey little booth she had found him in at a jazz bar in Midtown. Nick was hunched over a whisky glass, forehead pressed against the table as he tried to stop the room spinning. Tried to stop the events of the night before from once again torturing him in slow motion. “Is everything okay?” Roman demanded, hearing the music playing in the background, a dead giveaway that they were either in a bar or a club.
“We have a problem, Roman, a big one,” Emily admitted, before she started to recount the story that she had gathered from Nick and Nancy. Not that Nick had made much sense when she had found him fifteen minutes earlier. But she had gotten enough out of him to confirm her suspicion that everything wasn’t as black and white as Nancy had made it sound. She told Roman everything - about Natalia and Hugo going off together after the speech, how Hugo had told Nick he was going to use her to essentially blackmail them, and how Nick had gone to the bottom of a bottle to find something he had lost.
By the end of the conversation, Roman felt as if the chessboard had spun once more, the pieces falling out of his grip. This was the last thing they needed. For Hugo - of all the slimy people on the executive floor - to have ended up with Natalia in his lap.
It was then that Roman remembered about the NDA. That silly little piece of paper he had forgotten about, distracted by what had been happening around him. One signature was all he had needed to get. But Natalia hadn’t signed on the dotted line and he had left the evidence behind.
And now they had another problem to contend with. One that wouldn’t just be pushed under the rug with a blank cheque.
Roman stepped back into the lounge, pacing around the floor as he tried to think of a plan. But all he could see in his mind was that little folder sitting on the table at the bar. He hadn’t even taken it away with him. And now the lie was out there. Even if it wasn’t a lie anymore. It was out there. In the hands of two people who wouldn’t be afraid to exploit it for every cent and dime they could get - regardless of who signed the cheque.
He couldn’t tell Gerri. He wouldn’t tell her. At least not this weekend. Not with Maddie home and after having both her daughters together for the first time in almost five years.
Gerri couldn’t know. Not yet. It would be a secret but a kinder option than telling her now. It could wait until the right time. Or perhaps Gerri didn’t need to know at all. He was the one who had gotten them into this mess. He could get them out of it. All without Gerri knowing.
This wasn’t a lie. It was a secret. A simple postponement of the truth.
Secrets were easier to keep than lies, right?
Notes:
Eeek, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm admittedly a little unsure about it as it lacks the usual drama/angst that tends to fill these chapters, but it sets us up for meeting another very important character in the next chapter and the next part of Hugo (and Natalia's) scheme.
Chapter 20: To Catch The Moon
Notes:
Another character-led chapter, but it's the last one before we really get into the blackmail plot and deal with the Waystar chaos. Chapters 21 to 24 are a bumpy ride, so enjoy the slightly smoother journey in this chapter. I was very in my feels writing this one - and the Gerri + Lily + Selina dynamic, in particular - so it's slightly angsty, but in an attempt to dig into that relationship a little more.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roman and Gerri had fallen into a routine. He always woke up first, but her alarm would go off before his. Those few minutes during the in-between were some of the lightest of his days. When he’d pretend that nothing existed outside of the walls of the penthouse’s master bedroom. When he’d memorise each part of Gerri’s face, the little details that made her face uniquely her own, as he’d twirl his fingers through her natural curls. The ones that only those closest to her got to see. The ones that no one else other than he got this close to.
But that Sunday morning those few precious minutes were not spent the way they normally were. Gerri was still fast asleep beside him, looking more relaxed than he had seen her in weeks. She always looked more peaceful in her sleep, perhaps younger even. Having Madeline home had lifted a weight off her shoulders, even amongst the chaos of the RECNY ball and its inevitable fallout.
Yet it was that fallout that had led him to scrolling on his phone, the light set to its lowest setting so as not to disturb Gerri. The Google alert on Gerri’s name had brought him up a dozen or so articles covering the announcement in his speech. The usual suspects; The Washington Post, New York Times, Forbes. So far it had all looked positive, most of the articles positioning the move as the appointment of a skilled hand that could ‘ steady the ship’, close enough to the Roys to be considered family without having the family name.
Roman was half-way down the final article where an email notification popped up at the top of his iPhone screen. The subject title simply read: The Ritz-Carlton 5:32pm. He tapped on the email, watching as the attached video began to autoplay. It was the CCTV footage from inside the bar at the Ritz-Carlton. The camera view had been cropped to focus on him and Natalia. The resolution was enhanced enough for him to spot the manila folder with the NDA inside it sitting on the table.
He exited out of the video and tapped the link on the email, not surprised when it loaded up a scanned copy of the unsigned NDA. The first warning shot.
The mattress dipped beneath him as Gerri turned next to him, hand covering her face as she yawned, eyes adjusting to the morning light. It gave Roman just enough time to slip his phone under his pillow before she could notice. He couldn't tell her. Not yet.
Roman had almost forgotten about the email by mid-afternoon. They had only left the master bedroom almost an hour after Gerri woke up after hearing banging from the kitchen, arriving on the scene to find Erik attempting to make Madeline an omelette.
Gerri had eventually gotten a call from Karolina, sending her out to the balcony for most of the morning, while Erik and Madeline told Roman about their last trip to Venice. Madeline made sure to drop more than a few hints about the fact Venice had been top of her mother’s bucket list. Eventually, Gerri had reappeared to tell Madeline she was almost ready to go and Erik had headed back to the master bedroom to shower, leaving Roman and Maddie alone around the kitchen island.
“Uhm, Roman,” Madeline paused, biting down on the side of her lip in a way that made Roman conclude that both the Kellman girls had inherited their mother’s anxiety. “Yeah, Mads?” he asked, setting down his half-eaten bowl of cereal onto the kitchen island between them. The blonde looked down the hallway, relieved to hear the TV on in her mother’s bedroom as she finished getting ready. Background noise to stop her overhearing what she was about to say.
“So like, this is top secret, so keep your mouth shut on this. But I’m taking mom to meet Selina and Lily,” Madeline whispered, keeping her voice low just in case her mother had developed supersonic hearing. Roman leaned forward, head tilted. “About time,” he muttered, thinking of the videos and photos he had caught Gerri looking at almost every night before bed. Always refreshing that Google Drive link to see if anything new had been added. Always finding something new about her granddaughter every time she clicked onto it.
“Well, anyway, I’m taking her to the museum to meet them there. Just giving you the heads up ‘cause they could end up coming back here,” Madeline explained, downing the rest of her coffee as she walked around him to put the glass into the dishwasher. “I can send Fredrick to pick them up,” Roman suggested, feeling more like a spare part than he had in weeks. It was unnerving to have the penthouse go from a place that seemed to exist solely for him and Gerri to it suddenly housing other people, even if one of them was Gerri’s daughter.
“Does he have a car seat though?” Madeline asked, picking up the vintage Prada nylon backpack she had swiped from her mother’s closet the day before. It wasn’t like her mother needed it anymore. She wouldn’t be caught dead with a nylon bag. “He can get one,” Roman responded, picking up his phone from the kitchen island, ignoring his emails on the off chance there were any more nasty surprises waiting for him. “Okay, moneybags,” Madeline teased, deciding it was Roman’s prerogative if he wanted to splash out on a booster seat for a one-time use.
The door of the master bedroom creaked open before the familiar clack of kitten heels against the wooden floor announced Gerri’s arrival. Madeline glanced at the clock over the television in the lounge. 11am. Just enough time to grab a bagel, run her errands, and safely deposit her mother at the museum entrance in time to meet Selina and Lily. If she worked it out just right, she’d even have time to swing by Magnolia Bakery on the way home.
Roman let out a low whistle as Gerri appeared in front of him. That black wrap dress was one of his favourites. He had teased her on more than one occasion that it gave her ‘law school professor’ vibes with its plunging neckline and belt. “Do not hang around in your pyjamas all day,” Gerri warned, glancing up and down at the grey sweatpants and white t-shirt that Roman was wearing. He simply shrugged as he picked up the cereal bowl once more. “Give me a reason to get out of them then,” he countered, ignoring the eye roll and mock gagging noise that Madeline sent his way.
“Right, come on, Mom. Let’s go. I want to get a bagel when we’re out,” she announced, appearing behind her mother to wrap her arm around the woman’s shoulder, walking her towards the front door. “Do you always think with your stomach?” Gerri asked, wondering where her youngest daughter had inherited her metabolism from. “Only when I’m hungry - which is about 14 hours in the day,” Madeline responded, shouting a goodbye to Roman over her shoulder as the door shut behind them.
Gerri and Madeline’s day out had gone like every other shopping trip since Madeline’s 13th birthday. Her mother would pick up a conservative, albeit trendy, dress and offer to buy it. Maddie would screw up her face and pick up a pair of denim jeans or a bodysuit instead. Inevitably, the pair fought over who would foot the bill until Gerri won out by getting her American Express card to the sales associate first. And, as it always did, every Kellman girl shopping trip inevitably ended up in one place.
Bergdorf’s shoe department.
Madeline made herself comfortable in one of the low armchairs, helping herself to the complimentary champagne as her mother tried on different shoes. Naturally, her mother tried more than once to coax her into swapping her sneakers out for a pair of heels. Madeline eventually relented, allowing her mother to buy her a pair of tan Loewe sandals. “Only because they’ll fit in my backpack for the beach,” she insisted as Gerri smugly ran her credit card once more.
Getting from Bergdorf’s to the museum hadn’t been difficult. Though it had required the customary ‘I’m sorry, we’ll be late’ text to Lily. Some things never changed - not even Madeline’s perpetual inability to be on time.
By the time they were a block away from the museum, they were already thirty minutes late. Madeline blamed the free champagne for going to her head and making her lose track of time. She slowed down a little as they came towards the steps leading into the museum. “So, Mom, here’s the thing,” Madeline announced, bringing them to a stop near the entrance. “Don’t tell me you want another snack break, Mads,” Gerri sighed, glancing down at her watch as she rolled her eyes, slipping the straps of the shopping bags onto her arm.
“No, I’m going to head back to the penthouse and you’re going in there,” Madeline declared, reaching out to take the shopping bags from her mother. Gerri raised her eyebrows, the confusion evident on her face as she looked towards the museum then back to her youngest daughter. “Someone’s in there waiting to meet you,” Maddie continued, nodding her head as she tapped her mother’s arm to get her to head inside.
“Where am I even going?” Gerri questioned, her voice going up a pitch as she wondered whether Madeline was trying to pull a prank on her. “Oh, you know where you’re going,” Madeline smirked, popping her sunglasses back onto her nose, splitting the Bergdorf’s and Ralph Lauren shopping bags between her two hands.
It was then that the penny dropped.
Only one person would meet her here. Lily. And there was only one person who would be waiting to meet her there for the first time.
“Is she…” Gerri paused, feeling her chin shake as she took a deep breath. “Is Selina in there?” she asked, voice breaking as her heart pounded in her ears as she reached out to take her daughter’s arm to ground herself for a moment. The world seemed to start spinning but everything was moving in slow motion. All the heartbreak. All the expectations. All the pain. It came rushing back to her at that moment.
“Better get a move on, grandma,” Madeline teased, chuckling to herself as she lightly pushed against her mother’s back, encouraging her to head inside. Gerri turned on her heel, pushing her hair out of her face as she took the same path she had walked a hundred times before. But this time with a new purpose. Madeline waited until Gerri was inside the museum before heading off down the street, dropping a text to Roman that she had safely delivered ‘the package’ to its destination.
The museum was relatively quiet for a Sunday afternoon. It lacked the usual tourist groups with their field guides and the wanna-be models lining the gallery hallways to make their latest social media post. The journey to the third floor took twice as long as usual. Gerri stopped more than once, wondering why she was more anxious to meet her own grandchild than she was to testify in front of a Congressional Committee.
Because in the grand scale of life, that committee didn’t matter. But Selina mattered. Perhaps she mattered more than Gerri would let herself admit.
Gerri turned the corner into the gallery, seeing Lily and Selina exactly where she had expected to find them. Standing side by side in front of ‘The Starry Night’. But it wasn’t the painting that was making her heart heavy. It was the sight that greeted her. An all-too familiar one. It felt as if time froze at that moment, transporting her back almost thirty years to the same spot.
Lily and Selina morphed into Gerri and Lily. Gerri and Maddie. Gerri and both the girls. All those years spent with her daughters in front of that painting. Now it was another mother standing clutching her daughter’s little fingers as she showed her Van Gogh’s stars. Her daughter standing in front of it with her own child.
Gerri stood back and watched for a moment. Watched how Lily pointed out her favourite parts of the painting - always the stars - Selina’s eyes fixed on the paint strokes. Those stars felt a little closer now, only an arm's length away. Closer than they had ever been. With a blinding brilliance that only a mother could appreciate.
Selina noticed her first.
The little girl’s head turned back, eyes widening with the wonder of a child seeing something they had only ever heard stories about. A bedtime story manifesting itself in person. Had she been one of Selina’s bedtime stories? Had Lily tucked her daughter into bed with stories of summers spent by the seas? Where she had taught the girls how to swim and where Baird had swapped his contracts for morning cartoons, watched over a bowl of sugar-filled cereal and freshly squeezed orange juice.
Selina stood looking at her. Bambi eyes gleaming under the warm light of the museum’s chandeliers. Gerri would later compare it to the same feeling she experienced the first time she had laid eyes on Lily and Madeline. When they had been each handed to her in a little bundle of pink blankets in a Manhattan hospital room.
She wasn’t Lily’s by blood, but those big brown eyes reminded Gerri of the little girl who used to play dress up in her closet. The little girl who used to peek into the cradle to watch her baby sister sleep and the teenager who had looked her in the eyes and said “everyone gets a freebie, Mom,” when she cried in the front pew at Baird’s funeral.
Was Selina a chance to make up for her failures as a mother? That little girl represented everything she had failed to be, yet everything she could still become.
Selina looked up at her mother, as if asking permission to go to her grandmother. Lily nodded her head slowly, watching as her daughter moved towards the woman standing frozen behind them. The little girl didn’t hesitate, a skip in her step as she crossed the gallery floor towards the woman. To any passerby they probably looked like any other grandmother and grandchild enjoying a Sunday afternoon in an art gallery.
Gerri crunched down as the girl came to a stop in front of her, balancing on her heels as she got to eye level with her granddaughter. A lump had already started to form in her throat. No longer did that little girl exist solely within the tiny screen of her phone. There she was standing in front of her - all bright eyed with her big blonde curls and a dimple in her cheek.
Gerri’s eyes blurred and for a moment it was Lily standing in front of her with Baird’s eyes. She had always been daddy’s little girl. Had always ran to him when she scraped her knee or wanted tucked into bed. Perhaps that had been a consequence of Gerri not having been one of those women who grew up dreaming of having kids. No, it had always been her career. Baird had been the one who wanted children - until Lily was put into her arms that cold December morning when New York was experiencing its first snow of the winter season. When Baird had walked into her hospital room with a bouquet of lilies and suddenly the little bundle in her arms had a name.
Lily. The feminine little flower that represented the side of herself that Gerri always hid away from the corporate world.
“Hi GG,” Selina said, her fingers waving towards Gerri, breaking the older woman out of her train of thought, bringing her back to the present. Selina’s voice was enough to start the water works. “Hello Selina,” Gerri whispered, fingers flinching in front of her as she slowly reached out to touch her granddaughter’s cheek. “I’ve waited a very long time to meet you, little star,” she breathed, feeling the little girl press her cheek against her hand. As if it was the most normal thing in the world to cuddle herself up to her grandmother.
“You’re very pretty,” Selina smiled, a little hand reaching out to touch the loose curl at the front of Gerri’s face, her finger twirling around it. “Can you do my hair like that?” she asked, her little fingers moving to touch the braid that her mother had done that morning. “But your braid is so pretty,” Gerri insisted, eyes catching the little blue ribbon that was tied around the end of Selina’s braid. The same sort of ribbons Lily had worn in her hair before Baird died. The ones Gerri used to run through her blonde curls as a little girl, when she still had time for things as trivial as picking out ballet shoes and leotards. All that had stopped by the time Lily had turned six and Logan had appointed her Associate General Counsel.
“Mama did it,” Selina answered, pulling a little at the ribbon in the end of her hair. Gerri thought it looked a lot like the braids she used to do in Lily’s hair before school - until one of the nannies started doing it. The same way the nannies had taken over reading their bedtime stories and picking them up from ballet practice. She doubted it was that way for her granddaughter though. Lily probably tucked Selina into bed every night. Made sure she was there for every ballet practice and recital. Done all the things Gerri had put to the wayside for her career - and for what?
Had Waystar been worth it? Would Waystar be worth it now? Could she stand back and watch Selina slip through her fingers the same way Lily had? Were the board meetings and trips on private jets really something to miss ballet recitals and birthdays for? A voice in the back of her head was giving her a resounding “no”.
Selina stepped closer, curling up against Gerri’s left side, tucking herself under the woman’s arm. Gerri ignored the tension building in the back of her calves from kneeling down in her heels as she wrapped her arm around Selina’s back. “Are you here to see Mama’s picture?” the little girl asked, holding onto her elephant plush by its floppy grey ear. “And to see you,” Gerri confirmed with a nod of her head, blinking back another round of tears as Selina sighed contently, resting the side of the forehead against Gerri’s shoulder.
Part of her had been terrified at the idea of Selina not knowing who she was - of the little girl looking at her like a passing stranger on the street. But she hadn’t. Selina had walked straight up to her with the familiarity of any other child - with an innocence that made Gerri finally realise the last five years had been as much her fault as Lily’s. The loss of those years hurt once again.
“Who is this?” Gerri asked, reaching out to touch the elephant plushie that Selina was carrying. It had seen better days, but it was clearly well loved and had been stitched back together on more than one occasion. The little silver thread around its ears and tail were evidence of that. “This is BB,” Selina giggled, raising the plush toy in front of her face, moving its front left leg to wave at her grandmother.
“BB?” Gerri questioned with a raised eyebrow, heart skipping a beat as she wondered if Selina had really named her little plush friend after the grandfather she’d never get to meet. “For Baird,” Lily explained, stepping forward to close the gap between herself and the duo crunched down on the floor.
That broke Gerri’s heart all over again. Another reminder that Baird’s death had hit their eldest daughter hardest. Another reminder that he would have thrived in the role of grandfather with far more ease than she had taken to being a grandmother. But a lot would have been different if Baird hadn’t died.
“It was the first thing I bought her,” Lily revealed, looking down at the plush toy that hadn’t left Selina’s side from the day Elise had brought her home. It was the best friend that a four-year old girl could have. The little plush elephant that had been carried to every ballet class, family vacation and doctor appointment. An ever-present comfort. The sort of comfort a grandfather would offer, always waiting with a reassuring hug.
“Your dad bought you an elephant plush when you were a baby,” Gerri pointed out, turning her head to look up at her eldest daughter, her fingers touching the plush in Selina’s hand. The plush grey elephant had been twice the size of Lily when she was born, but it had practically become part of the family. More than once Gerri had torn hotel rooms and private jets apart looking for it when the plush would inevitably come with them on business trips and family vacations, inevitably going off on an adventure of his own. “I know,” Lily said, having deliberately chosen the little plush elephant for its likeness to the same one she had as a child.
Selina picked up the gold pendant that laid against Gerri’s neck, turning it over between her fingers, watching the little emerald catch the light. “Oh, pretty,” she said, fiddling with the pendant as Gerri tightened her arm around the girl.
Lily felt a heaviness in her heart watching them. Perhaps it was the guilt taking over, feeding away at her soul for the harm she had caused both her mother and daughter. Keeping them apart had seemed like the only option when Selina was a baby. When everything was still so new and her only instinct was to shield her daughter away from the trauma of her own childhood. Not for the first time that day, Lily’s mind went back to that first Christmas when her mother had almost seen them. Selina tucked in the baby carrier against her chest, fast asleep without a care in the world as she stood glued to the floor of a department store, watching her mother between the hordes of tourists.
But what would have happened if Gerri had looked up? Part of Lily knew it was delusional to assume it would have ended in anything other than a shouting match. Perhaps her mother would have looked straight through her without even recognising her.
“Let’s get out of here,” Lily suggested, pushing away those intrusive thoughts as she rested a hand on the back of Selina’s head before offering her hand out to help her mother stand up again.
Selina reached down to take her grandmother’s hand, content to swing their arms lightly from side to side, BB in her other hand. “Can I…can I pick her up?” Gerri asked timidly, thinking of the half a dozen staircases that they’d take to get from the gallery room to the front of the museum. Lily felt the corner of her lips twitch, the heaviness returning to her chest.
“You don’t have to ask, Mom,” she assured her, forcing a smile as she looked down at Selina. “GG’s going to carry you,” Lily told her, stepping back to let Gerri reach down and scoop the little girl up in her arms. Selina giggled with a carefree laugh that made it seem as though being picked up by her grandmother was an everyday occurrence. Lily turned her wedding ring as she watched Selina wrap her arms loosely around Gerri’s neck, babbling away about her ballet lesson earlier that day as her grandmother carried her towards the door.
It was only then that Lily let herself cry. When her mother’s back was turned and her daughter was too captivated by her grandmother to notice anything. The tear slid down her cheek, splashing onto the silk of her blouse before she wiped her hand across her cheek as she straightened her shoulders. This had been a tragedy of her own making - and one she had only started repenting for.
Her heels clacked against the wooden floor as she walked after them, listening as Selina talked about her role as one of the mice in the Nutcracker at her ballet school’s upcoming recital. “GG come?” the girl asked, hands locked around her grandmother as the woman carried her through the museum towards the exit. Gerri paused for a moment, part of her not wanting to make a promise she couldn’t keep - but another part of her, that little voice at the back of her head that had been getting louder, told her she deserved this. Deserved to be able to go to her granddaughter’s ballet recital and bring her a little bouquet of sweet peas the same way Baird had done with Lily.
“GG’s very busy,” Lily said softly as she reached her mother’s side, standing beside her as they waited for the elevator. Gerri’s mind was made up then. The voice in the back of her head, the one that was sounding distinctively more like her dead husband, had won out. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be there. Lily, can you get me two tickets?” Gerri asked, stepping forward as the elevator doors opened to step inside with the girl in her arms.
Lily walked into the elevator after them and exchanged an understanding smile with her mother. “Two tickets then. We can go for dinner afterwards,” she suggested, thinking of the routine she had with her parents as a little girl. “Pasta!” Selina announced as the elevator doors closed and the trio made their way down to the museum lobby.
Gerri stepped out first, her eyes instantly finding the man across the room. Fredrick was standing waiting for them in the middle of the lobby. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he greeted as he walked towards them, nodding his head towards the trio of blondes. “Hello, Fredrick,” Gerri responded, her tone making it clear that she was confused by his sudden appearance. “I’ve been sent to drive you all back to the penthouse,” he explained, leading the way towards the exit and the car that was waiting for them outside.
“He has a funny voice, GG,” Selina whispered in a high pitched voice as she leaned in towards Gerri’s ear, though her voice was loud enough for the other two adults to hear her as well. “I’ve got a car seat for her in the back, Ms. Lily,” Fredrick explained, opening the left passenger door to show the car seat that had already been installed for the girl. Gerri wondered for a minute if it had been Madeline or Roman who had seen to that. It looked brand new, as if it had been bought just for this very occasion.
“Selina sits with GG!” the girl announced, arms locked around her grandmother’s neck defiantly. It was the same look she had on her face as when she’d demand one more blueberry pancake on a Sunday morning or another go on the swing at the park. “I’ll get into the front,” Lily compromised, keen to avoid the awkwardness of the three of them being squashed into the back seats of the Aston Martin.
The journey to the penthouse had been relatively uneventful. Lily sat in silence as she listened to her daughter talk away to Gerri, as though simply filling her in on what she had missed since the last time she had seen her. It didn’t go past Lily that there was a certain irony to it all. Selina seemed far more at ease talking to the grandmother she had never met than Elise’s mother. Though her mother-in-law was more of a Caroline Collingwood without the grandeur of a title and the aristocratic background.
Lily caught her mother’s eye through the rear view mirror at the front of the car. Brown eyes catching blue for a brief, solitary moment. Lily thought she could see tears. Gerri knew she could see them in her daughter’s eyes.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the apartment complex and Lily stepped out first, unbuckling Selina and setting her on the ground by the time Gerri appeared at their side. “Thank you, Fredrick,” Gerri acknowledged him with a smile before leading the girls towards the lobby.
Fredrick must have texted Roman to tell him that they had arrived, for he was standing waiting at the door of the penthouse. There was a distinctively smug smile on his face. One that told Gerri he had been in cahoots with at least one of her daughters - if not both of them.
“Who are you?” Selina asked, looking upwards between her mother and grandmother at the man who held open the penthouse door for them. For the first time in a year, Roman had found himself looking at someone else first when Gerri was in the room. No longer did his eyes instantly find hers - but rather the little blonde haired girl who stood above her grandmother’s knees, an elephant plushie hung over one arm. Part of Roman had to remind himself that Selina - for all her blonde curls and dimple cheeks - was not Gerri’s granddaughter by blood. No matter how deceptive that face was.
Gerri cleared her throat, falling into step beside Roman as they headed through to the lounge, shrugging out of her coat. “This is Roman,” she introduced, letting him take the coat from her hand and place it on the coat rack at the edge of the lounge, where the room led into the open planned kitchen. “Romey,” Selina tried, a devious smirk on her face that told Lily her daughter was seeing how far she could push her luck with the newcomer. How quickly she could wrap another of Fortune 500’s richest New Yorkers around her little finger.
Roman shook his head, thinking the nickname was better suited to a dachshund than an almost 40-year-old man. “How about we go with Ro?” he suggested, watching as the little girl put her hands on her hips - another great Gerri-ism he suspected she had inherited via Lily - making her look older than her 4 years.
Another voice echoed through the penthouse. “Is that my niece I hear?” Madeline called from the guest room, appearing at the door with an iced coffee in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. “Maddie!” Selina shouted, little Mary Jane shoes squeaking as she ran across the wooden floor, launching herself at her aunt. “Ohh, watch it kiddo, don’t drop my sandwich,” Madeline warned, looking down at the child who had attached herself to her legs. It took a little manoeuvring, mainly sticking her sandwich in her mouth, to get the girl up on her hip, the iced coffee now safely in Selina’s hand.
“I see one child there and it is not the one holding the coffee,” Lily muttered, crossing the room to retrieve her child, dumping the coffee back in her sister’s hand before walking towards the sofa in the lounge. “Where’s Erik?” Gerri asked, having expected the Dane to appear out of the guest room behind her daughter. “He’s away to experience Target for the first time,” Madeline replied between bites of her sandwich, following her big sister towards the sofa. “And you didn’t go with him?” Roman asked, leaning against the wall by the TV as he watched the four Kellman girls with Gerri hovering near the sofa. “He’s going to be there for hours. Have you ever seen a European in Target? It’s like letting a fucking kid loose in Disney World with a credit card,” Madeline shrugged, stirring the ice around in her Dunkin cup.
Gerri smiled as she looked from the amused smirk on Roman’s face in time to see Lily throw one of the decorative pillows towards her sister’s head. “Language, Madeline,” Lily scolded, putting her hands over her daughter’s ears, earning a giggle from the little girl.
It was then that another member of the Kellman family popped into Gerri’s head.
The tortoise.
“I have someone else you should meet, Selina,” Gerri announced, once more scooping the girl up into her arms as she headed down the hallways towards the study. “Hold on, wait! You’re not showing her him without me,” Roman called, setting off after them down the hallway, almost sliding in his socks on the wooden floor. The girls were already in the study by the time he caught up with them, hovering over the enclosure that sat at the back of Gerri’s private study between the walls of bookcases.
“It’s a turtle!” Selina gasped, sitting on top of Gerri’s knee as the woman bent down next to the enclosure. Horus was munching away on some berries, blissfully unaware of the four-year old terror who had just pirrouted her way into his life.
“He’s a tortoise, spud,” Roman corrected Selina as he bent down beside her. Gerri glared at Roman over the top of her glasses as they slid down the bridge of her nose, one arm keeping Selina tucked by her side. “Spud?” she hissed over Selina’s head, her chin resting on the crown of the girl’s hair. “She looks like a spud, Ger,” Roman insisted with a shrug as he reached into the enclosure to pick up the tortoise, bringing him closer to the little girl. “This is my buddy Horus,” he announced, watching the little girl’s eyes widen as she looked at the creature.
“He’s not a puppy, Roman,” Gerri reminded him, her hand on top of Selina’s as she showed the little girl how to safely pet the tortoise. “Whatever you say, cabbage,” Roman responded, both hands holding the tortoise steady as Selina giggled between them. “You’re sleeping on the sofa, Roman,” Gerri threatened, shivering at the very idea of being called ‘cabbage’. It was one thing for him to call Selina a nickname like ‘spud’ - it was cute, not that she’d ever admit that to his face - but calling her a vegetable’s name was a crime punishable by a week-long La Perla ban and a night on the sofa.
Gerri lightly tapped Selina’s back, getting the girl to stand up long enough for her to set herself properly down on the floor to save her thighs from crunching down. “Horus is cute,” Selina declared as she plopped back down onto Gerri’s lap, once more reaching out for the tortoise.
“Can I take him home?” she asked, earning a mock gasp from Roman as she held the tortoise up in the air. “No can do, spud, he lives here,” he insisted, setting the tortoise back into his enclosure as Selina pouted as she folded her arms. “But you can visit him, he likes berries,” Roman added, handing one of the berries over to Selina for her to feed the tortoise. Selina giggled as she watched the tortoise slowly chew on the berry, before Roman reached down to pick her up, one hand going out to give Gerri a heave up off the floor.
“Go wash your hands, Selina,” Lily called from the lounge as she heard the footsteps coming towards them from the study. Roman appeared first, Selina carried in one hand, her plush elephant in the other. “Geez, the kid didn’t cry,” Madeline observed, watching as Roman sat her niece down on the counter next to the sink, pumping some hand wash into her hands before turning on the tap, checking that the water wasn’t too hot. “Maddie’s only saying that because Selina screeched the house down the first time she saw Madeline,” Lily announced, popping another olive in her mouth as she continued to flick through the photo album she had swiped from her mother’s coffee table.
“My daughter has a thing for shoes,” Lily mused, watching out of the corner of her eye as the four year old sat herself down on the carpet, picking up one of Gerri’s heels, trying to put it on. Her little foot took up less than a third of the shoe, but that didn’t stop her from putting both shoes on. “Must be a Kellman thing,” Roman observed, raising an eyebrow as Gerri bent down onto the floor next to Selina, helping the little girl stand up in the shoes. She kept one hand on each of Selina’s arms, holding her upright as the girl giggled in amusement, trying to move her feet in the high heels.
“What happened to you then?” Roman asked, turning his attention to the youngest of the two Kellman sisters who was sitting with her feet up on the coffee table, one sneaker resting over the other. “Me?” Madeline questioned, hand to her chest as she balanced her iced coffee on her stomach. “Yeah, you, Miss. ‘I only wear vintage Levi’s and Converse high tops.’ What happened to you?” Roman observed, looking at the offending sneakers that were a world away from the closet full of Manolo Blahniks organised by colour or Lily’s red bottom stilettos.
“Come on, Selina, you can help me put these away,” Gerri suggested, lifting the girl up so that the shoes fell off her feet, before scooping her and the high heels back up again. Roman went to follow them, but Lily shook her head, touching his arm as she went by, heading after her mother and daughter as the pair headed towards the master bedroom. “Give them a minute,” Lily told her mother’s shadow, waiting for Roman to nod in acknowledgment before she disappeared down the hallway.
By the time she reached the master suite, Selina was sitting cross legged on the carpet in front of the bed, while Gerri was somewhere in the closet returning the shoes to their designated spot. Lily couldn’t think of the last time she had been in her mother’s bedroom. It might have been the morning of her father’s funeral. A bedroom in another home, the brownstone townhouse she had grown up in.
“Mama! These are yours,” Selina announced, flicking through the stack of vinyls that sat in a white cube under the record player. “No, sweet pea, those are GG’s,” Lily corrected as she walked further into her mother’s bedroom. Though she could tell by the cologne bottle on the bedside table and the Tom Ford suit hanging by the mirror that it was no longer only her bedroom. It looked as though Roman had essentially moved in.
“Oh,” Selina paused, as though unsure whether she should keep looking through her grandmother’s things. Her brown eyes found the woman as she reappeared from the closet, crossing the room towards her. “ Why don’t you pick one?” Gerri encouraged, bending down beside Selina in front of the stack of vinyl records.
Lily leaned against the doorframe as she observed the scene in front of her. Gerri had never bent down to her level as a child. No. Her mother had always been this great tall figure that hovered over her in her heels. She hadn’t been the sort of mother who rolled around with her daughters on the floor or who sat cross-legged in their bedroom for imaginary tea parties with plush toys as their guests. Yet here she was constantly bringing herself down to Selina’s size.
Maybe it was because she wasn’t scared of the little girl in front of her this time. It took becoming a mother herself for Lily to realise how terrifying the concept was - even more so for someone who hadn’t been a natural fit for the role.
“I want this one,” Selina decided, pulling out one of the thin vinyl cases from the back of the cube. Gerri chuckled as she brushed off the dust from the cover. The Beatles. Abbey Road. Of all the records for her granddaughter to choose, it had to be that one. “This was your Grandad Baird’s favourite,” Gerri explained, reaching up to place the vinyl onto the record player, setting the needle of the turnarm in just the right position before lowering it. The disc spun as Selina sat back down onto the floor, occupying herself by poking through the trinkets and nicknacks that littered the shelves nearby.
Lily watched them for a moment longer, leaning against the doorframe as she watched her mother answer Selina’s questions, pointing out each of the people in the pictures. There were more than a few with ‘BB’ in them. Lily took a step back, blinking back the latest round of tears as she waited in the shadows before heading back towards the lounge. She’d give them this. A rare chance to be like any other granddaughter and their GG. For Selina to play around in Gerri’s jewellery box, spray her perfume bottles and dress up in her silk scarves the same way Lily had once done.
Roman stood against the wall as he watched Lily appear back into the lounge. Madeline read her sister before he could. “You okay, Lils?” she asked, eyes following her sister as the older of the two Kellman girls walked towards the bar cart, swiping a martini glass as she headed to the kitchen. “Just thinking, Madeline,” Lily replied, pouring her martini the same way that Gerri made hers. Roman cleared his throat from the other side of the room, heading towards the kitchen as he held out the jar of olives. “I’ll finish that. And make Maddie one. Take a seat,” he suggested, unsure how to navigate his way around the sisters and their…. feelings.
Gerri and Selina returned two hours later, the little girl’s nails painted with a pink polish and one of Gerri’s cardigans wrapped around her like a shawl. “I think someone’s tired,” Gerri announced as Selina yawned loudly for added effect, her eyes glancing over the three empty martini glasses on the coffee table. Clearly, it wasn’t only her and Selina who had been bonding that afternoon. “I better get her back, she’s missed her nap,” Lily announced, setting down the phone she had been texting on a moment earlier.
“Do you want me to get Fredrick to drive you home?” Roman offered, fast to get to his feet as he watched Lily pick up the tired child, Selina’s head quickly tucking itself under her mother’s chin. “Elise has sent a car for us, but thank you, it should be here in the next few minutes,” Lily explained, accepting the plush elephant toy from Gerri as she held it out, offering to walk them to the door.
“Let me know when you get home, will you?” Gerri requested, holding the door open as Lily adjusted Selina in her arms, the girl waving goodbye to her grandmother between yawns. “We’ll see you later, Mom,” Lily acknowledged with a smile, aware of the fact she’d have to try and keep Selina from falling asleep until she could get back to the townhouse. “Lily,” Gerri called, watching as her daughter paused on the other side of the door, turning back around to face her, the bundle in her arms growing heavier as Selina turned her mother’s shoulder into a pillow. “ Thank you,” Gerri said, at a loss for what other words she could use to acknowledge how she felt at that moment. It wasn’t just from meeting Selina. It was from the new perspective she had on things.
Hindsight was as painful as it was beautiful.
“I’ll get those tickets sorted for you. Perhaps we can arrange for you and Roman to come for dinner sometime,” Lily offered with a smile, the tension in her shoulders gone as she swayed slightly with Selina in her arms. “I’d like that,” Gerri smiled, offering one final goodbye as she watched the pair head off towards the elevator before she stepped back into the penthouse.
Roman went to follow her again, the ever obedient lapdog, but stopped when the blonde beside him grabbed his arms. “Give her a bit,” Madeline suggested, watching her mother head off towards the master bedroom once more. “Do you think she’s okay?” Roman asked, leaning back on the sofa as he turned his phone over in his hands. “She’ll be okay, eventually, it’s been a long time coming,” Maddie insisted, finishing the rest of her drink before she stood from the sofa. She paused for a moment, the carefree sister suddenly looking older than her years, a wise head on young shoulders. Madeline had seen enough over the last day and a half to make up her mind.
“You’re a good guy, Roman. Even if you are a Roy,” she told him, raising her empty glass to him before heading off towards the guest bedroom. “Wait till you hear the music then go and check on her,” Madeline advised, glancing over her shoulder at Roman one last time before rounding the corner and disappearing into the bedroom she had claimed as her own.
Roman waited exactly 28 minutes before going to check on Gerri. He had already gotten a text from Lily, thanking him for sending Fredrick to the museum and letting him know they had gotten home safe. His initial plan to check on Gerri had gotten waylaid by Erik returning to the penthouse with what appeared to be half of the local Target in an assortment of carrier bags. He had helped Erik put some of it away before the Dane excused himself to go and see Maddie, freeing Roman to finally check on Gerri.
The opera music was the first sign that something was up. Maria Callas. It was always Callas when something was wrong or when Gerri needed to think. Madeline had been right to tell him to wait for the music. As melancholic and depressing as it might sound.
He found Gerri laying over the end of the bed, blonde hair falling in waves towards the floor, her head over the edge with her eyes closed. Roman leaned against the doorframe for a minute, although he knew she’d sense him watching her. She always knew when he was watching her.
Gerri pulled the cigarette away from her lips, a small puff of smoke following as she felt the blood drain to her head. Maybe she had never been fit to be a mother. Life as the cold hearted bitch would have been easier without the emotional baggage of two daughters, a dead husband, a younger lover, and a tortoise who would probably outlive her.
“Close the door, you’re letting in a draft,” Gerri announced, eyes slowly opening as she ran her tongue across her top lip, the palm of her hand resting on her forehead as she felt a tension headache starting to build. Roman stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, hesitating for a moment before turning the lock. They had visitors, after all.
“Which one is this?” he asked as he checked the lock. It all sounded the same to him. The soprano’s screams and the tenor’s high octaves all blended into one after a while. Not that he’d tell Gerri that for fear of another music lesson.
“Un bel dì, vedremo. It’s from Madama Butterfly,” she answered, eyes fixed on the ceiling above her head, tracing the outline of the little fleur-de-lis that had been sculpted over the white paint. She had put the Beatles vinyl to one side, making a mental note to put it somewhere safe for when Selina would be old enough to appreciate its significance.
Roman hummed as he crossed the room, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed next to her. “And what depressing shit is this one about?” he asked, taking the cigarette from between her fingers and bringing it to his own lips. “It’s about imagining the return of a long-lost love,” Gerri replied, pushing herself up to sit back on her elbows, looking up at Roman as he took a slow drag of her cigarette.
“Let me guess. She dies in this one as well, right?” Roman pondered, holding the cigarette back out for Gerri to take as he released a little puff of smoke from between his lips. “Kills herself with her father's knife when she realises that her long-lost love has married someone else,” Gerri explained, twirling the cigarette between her fingers for a moment before returning it to her lips. “I thought I was meant to be the certified batshit one,” Roman thought aloud with an amused smile, taking a moment to enjoy the view from where he sat above Gerri. That dress really was one of his favourites.
“The kid’s cute,” he remarked, knowing they would need to have a conversation about Selina eventually. “Looks like you,” Roman added, taking back the cigarette from between Gerri’s lips, his fingertips gracing over her cheek as he pulled it away. There was something slightly unnerving about how much Selina looked like Gerri and Lily. An unlikely time capsule back to an era he could never be part of.
“I’m not a natural blonde,” Gerri reminded him as she rolled over to lay on her stomach, feeling the room spin a little as she rested on her elbows. “Well then where does Lil…” Roman began, but paused as Gerri laughed next to him. “I’d have to kill you if I told you who does my hair, because I’m fairly sure Lily still goes to the same salon,” she insisted as she moved around to sit up beside him, not trusting even Roman with the knowledge of where she got her hair done. A woman’s hair stylist was as sacred to them as a lover. And she didn’t need Roman knowing she spent $200 on a blowout.
“I’m sure I could…get it out of you,” Roman taunted, turning himself towards her as his hand came to rest on Gerri’s knee, fingers skirting up the hem of her dress. Her tights had already been discarded to the other side of the room along with her heels. The absence of nylon made his fingers move quicker, seeking that familiar destination of La Perla silk. He knew what set she was wearing. Had seen it sitting out in the closet next to her dress earlier that morning.
But Gerri’s hand came down firmly over his, draping his fingers under the wool-blend of her dress. “My youngest daughter is down the hall,” she reminded him, shaking her head in a way that told him the locked door wouldn’t be enough to make Gerri forget about their houseguests. “I’m sure she has ear plugs, cabbage,” Roman taunted, his other hand on her cheek as he leaned forward, close enough to smell her perfume. It was faint, but it was still there.
“Roman,” Gerri warned through gritted teeth, pushing his hand out from under the hem of her dress. The last thing she needed was him calling her that. It was a one-way ticket to a night on the sofa. “Not like you can hear anything over that screeching,” Roman continued, nodding his head towards the aria that was sounding from the record player.
“I’ll shower by myself then,” Gerri announced, sliding out from under his arms as she made a beeline towards the en-suite. “You can come in five minutes if you promise never to call me that again,” she said over her shoulder, deciding five minutes would be enough to wash her hair before Roman would distract her.
Roman shook his head as he stood from the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he lifted the needle from the vinyl, letting the music die out. No need for tragic arias of long-lost loves and families torn apart. He took his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, throwing it down onto the bed, ignoring the latest raft of emails that popped up as the screen illuminated before him. No, Roman was too distracted by the distinctive silk fabric of a La Perla set being thrown through the open bathroom door, landing on the floor near the closet. Yet not even that could take his mind off what was to come.
Tomorrow would bring with it a return to the office. The first time they would come back to Waystar that had been changed by his actions. Changed by the events of the RECNY ball while on its march towards the GoJo acquisition. An ever-changing chess board made even more difficult to navigate by his own neglect to get that NDA signed. Another royal fuck up of his own making. And one he couldn’t tell Gerri about. Not now. Not after everything that had happened in the last two days.
The sound of water running in the shower took Roman out of his thoughts long enough to decide there was nothing else he could do tonight. Besides falling into bed beside the woman he had chosen over his family, pour her another martini and lie to her face when she inevitably asked what was wrong.
Tomorrow would be a new day.
And the beginning of the end.
But the end of what?
Notes:
If you have a problem with the 'spud' nickname, take it up with Cara she bullied me into it. 🫶
Chapter 21: The Tempest
Notes:
Hello! This took a little bit longer than usual but (finally!) here is the next chapter. It’s covered in plenty of breadcrumbs and some very on-the-nose references for what’s the come in the next three chapters. You can think of this as the beginning of the end with all the little loose threads starting to come together.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
No one liked Mondays. That was a truth universally abided by. Roman had always thought of Mondays with an impending sense of doom. He still felt like the teenager at military school, still hearing the morning wake-up siren ringing in his ears. But this Monday would be one for the books. He had sensed it from the moment he had woken up.
It didn’t help that Gerri was on edge as well. They had gone through their usual routine, but Gerri was more quiet than normal. A classic sign that she was stuck in her own head. They had hardly said more than a few words to each other by the time Fredrick had pulled away from the apartment complex. Bringing them all the while closer to their inevitable confrontation with Logan.
“Where’s Maddie? I didn’t see her or Erik this morning,” Roman pointed out, keen to keep the conversation away from anything Waystar related until they got to the office. They could stay in their little bubble until then.
Gerri picked up her phone, clearing her throat before reading out the text message that her youngest daughter had sent her at 2am. “Sorry Mom. Found a cheap flight, so Erik and I are away to climb Mount Whitney. Be back in a few days,” Gerri read from her screen as Roman glanced down at her phone, spotting the paragraph-long response in the blue text bubble below it.
“She just packs a bag and leaves like that?” Roman questioned, having thought that Gerri’s youngest daughter and her boyfriend had simply been sleeping in. “Ever since she was 19,” Gerri replied, looking out the window at the passing city buildings. “If Baird hadn’t died, I reckon he’d have turned her into some sort of Jane Goodall,” she joked, though once more she found herself wondering what her husband would have made of all this. “She still might, you know,” Roman offered, his attention still fixed on her. But he knew that Gerri’s mind was already lingering on what would be waiting for them on the executive floor.
The rest of the car ride was spent in relative silence. Roman kept his hand locked with Gerri’s, resting in her lap as they inched closer to the Waystar Royco offices. An impending sense of doom overcame him. Was this how it felt walking into a courtroom dock? Preparing to have your actions and integrity put under a microscope. Logan would be the judge and jury, but Roman doubted there would be a stay of execution.
“Everything will be fine, we’ll work it out,” Gerri offered as the car rolled to a stop in front of the Waystar Royco building. “You sure about that, Ger?” Roman doubted, giving her hand one final squeeze before he got out of the car, walking around to her side to help her out. Gerri looked up in the direction of the executive floor as they headed towards the building, where Logan was no doubt waiting for them. “We’ll do whatever serves our best interests,” she told him as they made a beeline inside and towards the elevator.
Gerri watched as every number lit up in turn as the elevator headed towards the top floor, as though counting down to the inevitable. And that was what was waiting on them as the elevator doors slid open.
“Roman! Gerri!” Logan barked across the executive floor, standing in the centre of the room, between his office and Gerri’s. Clearly he had been waiting on them to show up. “My office,” he instructed, the words floating over his shoulder as he turned on his heel, his office door slamming shut behind him. Gerri winced at the noise it made, putting her head down as she walked across the floor. The two first assistants walked towards them, stopping them for a moment.
“If we’re not out in twenty minutes, Ems, you need to come in with a code red,” Roman whispered to his assistant as he handed his briefcase over to her, while Alice took Gerri’s coat and Ralph Lauren tote. “I’ll need a coffee when we get out of there, extra shot,” Gerri told her assistant before following Roman towards Logan’s office, well aware of every set of eyes on the executive floor watching them as they went inside.
“Fine little stunt you pulled at the RECNY ball, son,” Logan announced by way of greeting as the door shut behind Roman. Gerri’s shoulders tensed. Clearly, they were cutting right to the chase and there was no point taking a seat. This wouldn’t last long.
“Credit where credit is due, Gerri, you might have found a set of balls on him after all,” Logan taunted, his attention still focused on Gerri as Roman shook his head, taking a step forward, as though to put himself between the pair. “Dad,” he tried, but Logan cut him off just as quickly. “Stupid little ploy really. Do you think Mattsson is going to want to keep an old hag around?” Logan sneered, directing his question at Gerri. That was enough to set her teeth on edge. For years, she had been one of the few women not to be the subject of Logan’s personal attacks, perhaps it was Baird’s shadow offering her some protection. Not anymore though. She was top of Logan’s kill list.
“Dad, you can’t…” Roman tried to meditate, but Gerri silenced him. Her hand came to rest on his arm as she stepped forward. “Logan,” she started, stepping around Roman to come to a stop before the visitor seats that sat opposite Logan’s desk. “Whatever the reasoning was for Roman’s actions at the RECNY ball, we’re up 8 points since the bell opened, the markets approve. It’s the first thing that’s happened in months that’s gotten us some positive fucking press,” Gerri laid it out, the dragon lady once more coming out to defend herself. Logan couldn’t argue with her on that. The Waystar Royco market price was finally tipping over the GoJo value again, putting the ball back in their court.
“And who knows what’s going to happen to any of us when the ink is dry on the deal with Matsson,” she added, her voice lower now as she leaned a little closer. But all that did was make Logan laugh, the deep sort that came from the back of his throat. “You think Napoleon is going to leave any of us standing? Uhm, you really have lowered yourself to Romulus’ delusions,” he taunted as he sat back down behind his desk.
Gerri straightened her back, making herself a little taller as she loomed over him. “We get this deal over the line and we’ll see where the cards fall,” she concluded, feeling the odds start to rise in her failure. Logan was clearly unnerved by what had happened at the RECNY ball, but they had reached a stalemate.
“Another stunt like that and I will have security escort both of you out of the building,” Logan threatened, playing his final hand as he took in the sight of his son and the woman who had worked for him almost thirty years. “Actually, I’ll save them the job and do it myself,” he added, curling his lips up in disgust.
Roman stood back and watched the scene unfold in front of him. Two voices echoed in the back of his head. Matsson and Elise. The heavy weight of destiny sat on his shoulders. Succession. The only language that men like Logan Roy could ever understand.
Matsson’s words came back to haunt him once more, whispering like a sweet nothing in his ear, “I would respect you more if you stabbed him in the front.”
Nothing lasts forever. Not even Logan Roy.
There was every possibility he would be the one walked out of the building by security at the end of it all. That would be a sight. The Tsar marched out by his own foot soldiers, the kingdom’s doors shut in his face.
“If that’s all, Logan, I’ve got a meeting in five with the Asia office that I need to get to the conference room for,” Gerri announced, calling an end to the mock trial. Lady Justice no longer willing to take the bait.
Logan excused them with a wave of his hand, shaking his head as he fiddled with the opened paper in front of him. Roman could have swore it was Saturday’s copy of The New York Times. The paper that had offered the most extensive coverage of the RECNY ball and Gerri’s ‘appointment’ as permanent CEO.
Roman held the door open for Gerri, letting her escape first, as his father’s voice sounded once more before the door closed behind him.
“Kerry!” Logan barrelled, not looking up from the paper in front of him. “Get me Hugo,” he instructed when the younger woman appeared at the door. Roman felt that familiar pang of panic take over. The same panic that would wash over him at military school as soon as the clock hit 5:30am, when one of the Officers would send off the siren to wake them up.
Logan would open his book of tricks. The same ones that had got him this far. The secrets. The intimidation. The threats.
If Gerri Kellman wanted to be CEO, she’d have to fight for it. And be willing to pay the price for the top seat. She had to be prepared to face the consequences of her actions. Even if they weren’t her own. Nothing and no one would be off limits.
Emily’s eyes followed Roman as he trailed after Gerri into her office before glancing over to the empty desk beside her. Nick hadn’t shown up yet. Not that Emily was surprised. The last time she saw him he was nursing the mother of all hangovers and drafting his resignation letter on the back of a Lucky Charms box.
Time for a wellness check. If she could find him. Nick could be anywhere between New York and Singapore by this stage. But something told Emily he wouldn’t have left New York. He couldn’t put a state line between himself and Nancy, let alone an ocean. That little piece of thread that seemed to pull them back to one another couldn’t survive that distance. Nancy could survive without Nick, she’d go on and he’d become nothing more than a story she’d tell around dinner tables. But Nick couldn’t go on without her. Nancy was the first thing he had ever had to fight for. The only thing money couldn’t buy him.
“Alice, I’m going out to a meeting. Can you keep an eye on the phone for me?” She asked, gathering up her tote bag as she shrugged into her coat. “Sure, Em,” Alice replied, eyes fixed on the couple through the glass partition as they stopped in the middle of Gerri’s office, having what appeared to be a back-and-forth conversation about whatever had just transpired in Logan’s office.
She was distracted enough by the couple in the office to almost walk head first into Nancy as the woman walked out of the elevator. “Sorry, Ems,” Nancy acknowledged, her head down and face half-obscured by oversized sunglasses, but she was already half-way to her desk before Emily could stop her.
She stepped inside the elevator and looked across the executive floor as Hugo walked into Logan’s office before the elevator doors shut.
Shit .
Emily scrolled through her messages until she found Nick’s name. There were 53 messages sitting stacked on top of one another, not a single reply from him since the night of the RECNY ball. She had already found him once - in that prohibition-era bar - and she’d find him again. Because it wasn’t just about Nick and Nancy anymore. The stakes couldn’t be higher. And if Logan was talking to Hugo, it was all about to get a lot worse.
It took Emily almost an hour of walking around the city to find him, stopping by all their usual spots, but she found him eventually. His bike gave it away. The Ducati XDiavel with its sleek Italian craftsmanship and black-on-black livery. It was only one bike in Nick’s extensive collection of toys, but the one that he kept in the city for daily use. The personalised number plate had helped as well. NC33. Nick’s initials and his racing number from his old go-karting days. Before his older brother’s accident and the death of both their racing dreams. When Nick went from being a normal teenager to another little rich boy with a superiority complex.
The little independent coffee shop was off the beaten track but one that the assistants tended to visit when they needed a break from the office and all things Waystar related.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Emily announced by way of greeting, slipping into the space in the booth across from him. Nick didn’t look up from the black coffee he was nursing between his hands. Classic sign of a Carter hangover. If the Ray Ban aviators perched on the end of his nose, concealing his droopy eyes from the world, weren't evidence enough.
“Are you not going to show your face at the office ever again? Are you really that scared of Nancy?” She questioned, already starting to feel her patience wear thin as she placed her phone and bag down onto the table. “She fucking hates me, Em,” Nick grumbled, hunched over his coffee mug as he avoided looking his friend in the eyes. This felt like the end. The path ahead of them had run out. There was nowhere else to go. And all because of his ridiculous belief that he could handle Hugo by himself.
Emily pursed her lips, taking in the sight of the dark circles that hung heavy below Nick’s eyes. She had never seen heartbreak manifest itself on a person’s face so clearly before. His skin was ashen and grey with the sort of melancholy she had only read about in books. It was as though he had lost a future that he once so vividly saw before him. A life that he’d never live because of his own foolish actions. “You’re an idiot, but a smart idiot,” she observed, grinding her teeth as she heard Nick let out a low, bitter chuckle in response.
“You’re going to have to keep it up, Nick,” Emily announced, her voice deepening as she did her best impression of her mother’s harsh tone, the one that the woman had always reserved for her most difficult students. “No, Emily, if I don’t sort this shit out…” Nick started to protest, coffee spilling from the cup as he pushed it across the table as he snatched his sunglasses off his nose. Emily could tell now that he had been crying. The sunglasses and the dim lights of the coffee shop had concealed his bloodshot eyes until now.
She reached across the table to grab his hand, feeling his fingers tense but it was the coldness of his skin that shocked her most. “Nick, I promise, I swear, that I will explain everything to Nancy, but you’re the only one who has an inside line on all of this,” Emily lamented, wondering for a moment if Nancy even suspected that Nick was suffering as much as she was. Those two fools. So terribly blinded by their own hurt to see the pain the other was in. All the while knowing that the other person was the cure to their sickness, to the yearning inside them that threatened to make the rest of the world grey.
“You promise?” Nick pleaded, a desperation in his voice that made the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck stand up. “Nick, it’ll work out,” she promised, reaching across the table to pick up the discarded coffee cup, pushing it towards him. It looked as if he had been surviving on only a liquid diet since the RECNY ball.
“He’s got that escort or whatever in his pocket now,” Nick revealed, running his finger around the rim of his coffee cup, trying to dig himself out of the sorrow he had put himself into. “I don’t know, I think he’ll try something else as well, I just get the feeling,” he shrugged, taking a shaky breath as he straightened his shoulders.
“Against who?” Emily questioned, eyes wide as she braced herself for the latest twist. This was heading somewhere. The inevitable denouement was fast approaching, the storm brewing overhead. “I don’t know yet, but I don’t think he’s stupid to play this as a single track scheme, he won’t just try to extort Roman,” Nick mused, turning over his phone in his hands as he tried to put his thoughts of Nancy to one side to focus on the task at hand. Figuring out Hugo’s scheme would be the first step on his path to redemption.
Emily nodded her head in agreement, shifting her focus to looking at the wider picture. “Logan called him into his office just before I left, right after he spoke to Roman and Gerri,” she revealed, suddenly getting a horrible feeling at the pit of her stomach. Hugo was a problem that could be contained. Logan was a storm that was both chaotic and frightening, a darkness rolling in.
But telling Logan would leave Hugo without a hand to play. He’d become worthless the moment he handed the information over to Logan. “I don’t think he’ll tell him,” she concluded, having spent enough of her time around ego-driven executives like Hugo to know that self-preservation would always win out. “Really?” Nick questioned, not prepared to make a call just yet.
“Hugo is too self-centred, thinks he can milk this for himself. If he hands all this over to Logan, he’d give him nothing in return except a pat on the back,” Emily declared, tapping her fingernails against the table. Maybe Hugo wasn’t so much of an idiot after all. But they’d have to find a way to shut him up.
A quick glance at the clock near the coffee bar told Emily she had already been gone from the office for too long. “Are you coming to the office?” she asked, turning her attention back to Nick, his shoulders curving inwards as he looked down at his lukewarm coffee. “Is she there?” he asked, not able to meet Emily’s eye.
“Of course, she’s there. She works there,” Emily sighed, wondering if Nick’s own stubbornness would be what would keep him and Nancy apart. But there was only so much she could do herself. He had to be the one to see this through.
“Tell Roman I’m taking a few days off. I’m going to head out on the bike for a while, but I’ll speak to Hugo tonight. See if I can meet up with him in a day or two, figure out where he is with all this,” Nick decided, leaning back on the plush black seat of the booth, straightening his shoulders as he focused himself once more. This was the only way they’d find a path through the storm. By going straight into it.
Emily appeared to at least be satisfied by that, picking up her phone and bag. “Look after Nancy, will you?” he asked, her name a little lighter on his lips now. “Nancy doesn’t need anyone to look after her. She’s a big girl,” Emily reminded him with the knowing look of someone who had watched that relationship blossom from the beginning. From the first day that Nick had teased Nancy about her height, right through to the first time she had caught him staring at her when he thought no one else was looking. Just two more idiots in love with each other.
“That’s what I’m scared of,” Nick acknowledged, that panicked feeling coming back to haunt him. “You want to elaborate on that one?” Emily questioned, pausing at the end of the booth. “Someone is going to pick Nanc up eventually and she’ll disappear off on a plane to Paris or London and I’ll never see her again,” Nick confessed, knowing it was only a matter of time before some spotted Nancy’s talent, before she’d get snapped up by an agency or a fashion house. And once she’d leave New York, she’d leave him behind as well. He’d become a comma in her life. Another name to add to the list of suitors in her life, nestled somewhere between a ‘had been’ and a ‘could be’. But she’d always be a full stop. Nancy. There had been no one before her and there would be no one after her. It would only ever be Nancy.
“I don’t think that’’ll happen, Nick,” Emily assured him, not being able to imagine a universe where Nick and Nancy weren’t attached to one another by some invisible thread. “I’ll never mean as much to her as she means to me,” he shrugged, deciding it would be kinder on himself to admit defeat now. “Want my advice, Nick?” she asked, slipping out of the booth as she did up the buttons of her trench coat, tying up the belt at her waist. “Fight for what you want. Prove to Nancy that you were trying to get an inside line with Hugo,” Emily suggested, slipping her bag onto her shoulder before she got ready to go, pausing just outside the booth.
“And Nick?” she asked, waiting for a moment until his eyes met hers. “For the love of God, tell her how you feel, because she’s not going to be waiting around for you,” Emily pleaded, seeing the recognition flash across her friend’s face before she finally left, popping up her umbrella before she got out onto the street where the rain was quickly turning to hail.
Nick watched her leave, her words clawing away at whatever self-restraint he had left. Pulling down the walls, brick by brick, that he had tried to rebuild after the RECNY ball. After Nancy had looked at him with all that hatred and confusion in her eyes. Perhaps Emily was right. He scrolled through his phone with his thumb, hitting the dial button on the number in his contacts.
Time to do his penance.
“Hugo, it’s Nick. How are we doing, buddy?” he asked when Hugo picked up the phone. Nick listened to the older man as he filled him in on his meeting with Logan earlier that morning. Outside the coffee shop, the rain lashed against the windows as the wind picked up.
Roman had already been ranking that particular Monday somewhere high in the top 10 of ‘most Mondays of Mondays to exist’, when his personal phone pinged with an email notification.
The subject line read: Offer Expires Friday 2pm
It came from the same email address as the CCTV footage.
Roman squinted his eyes as he brought his phone screen closer to his face, reading the text of the email. The first blackmail demand. Two million dollars - to start with. Otherwise the CCTV footage would be offered to the highest bidder, along with a sit-down interview with Natalia.
Paying the ransom wouldn’t be an issue but it was guaranteed to open Pandora’s jar - two million dollars could open a lot of flood gates. Roman knew he needed to deal with the problem head on. Cut the snake at the head and free them of the poison pill.
He needed help. Roman wasn’t foolish enough to think he could figure it out by himself. This was where he’d usually go to Gerri for help, confess his sins and plead with her to help him. But she couldn’t know. Not until all this was over and it could become a solemn confession over a midnight martini. He was too deep into this now.
But who could help him?
Shiv was out of the question. Kendall was still at a recovery institution with strict orders for no contact. He hadn’t spoken to Tabitha in weeks - and he couldn’t imagine trying to explain this all to her. That left only two options.
Roman scrolled through his phone contacts, heading towards the window that overlooked Uptown Manhattan as he clicked one of the newer contacts on his phone. It took three rings for the person on the other end to pick up.
“Hello,” the woman’s voice greeted him. “Lily,” Roman replied, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was lingering near his office door. “Roman, is everything okay?” she asked, the sound of heels echoing against a marble floor told him Lily was off in search of somewhere private.
Telling Lily was risky. There was every chance that she would hang up the phone on him and go straight to Gerri. Heck, she might even decide to kill him with her bare hands and those stud-covered Louboutins. But at the same time, she could help him.
Lily was a master of the dark arts, just like her mother. And he knew in mending her relationship with Gerri, she had developed a new-found protectiveness over her. But the younger woman had always been skeptical of anything to do with Waystar and the Roys. There was every potential that she could see getting involved in this as a step over the line, dragging her back into the shitshow that was the Roy inner circle. Yet, he had no other option. It was either Lily or Elise, and he didn’t know her well enough to determine whether she’d have told Lily either way.
“I’ve fucked up, like big time,” Roman confessed, looking down at his feet as he scruffed the toe of his shoes against the carpet. “What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?” Lily questioned, her voice going higher with evident panic. The background noise had died out, suggesting Lily had found somewhere quiet or stopped dead in her tracks.
Roman rubbed the back of his neck, deciding he had already put his foot in it. The last time someone had called Lily from Waystar out of the blue about one of her parents, her father was dead. “Gerri’s fine. I promise. Look, I…. fuck, I don’t know where to start with this,” he paused, having stumbled over his words as the gravity of the situation finally hit him. His lies catching up with him. How had this all spiralled out of that one lie? When he tried to save his own neck, and Gerri’s as well, by telling Logan they were a couple.
Look at them now. A relationship neither of them seemed willing to put a name on. He had hardly been back to his own apartment in the last two months. And their professional lives were even more tangled together. His conversations with Matsson had seen to that. But what would be the price for keeping everything on track? For protecting their relationship and Gerri’s career? The answer was becoming increasingly apparent.
“Well, the beginning is usually a good place to start,” Lily offered, breaking Roman off his train of thought.
It all came out then. The lies they had told. The truth - from what had happened in Italy to how their relationship had been given the final push, with a few details left out along the way to spare Gerri’s blushes. He told Lily all of it, confirming her suspicions that Gerri hadn’t known about his speech and his concerns about where the blackmail could be going. How his failure to get that NDA signed now threatened to pull apart the web of lies upon which they had built their safe haven.
“Can you…can you help me?” He asked, the words coming out more weak and pathetic than he had expected - but this was all his fault. Not just the NDA but all of it. It had been him who had gotten them into this mess when he lied to Logan. Yet, it was that lie that had gotten them this far.
“Roman,” Lily paused, her voice softer than he had ever heard it. A moment passed between them and Roman couldn’t tell if it was 20 seconds or two minutes of silence. “You love her, don’t you?” she asked, her voice timid as though afraid of the answer. But she had seen it with her own eyes and had known from that first day when she had met Roman again in that cafe. When she interrogated him about her mother and he - somehow - gave her all the right answers.
“Do I even need to say it?” Roman asked, turning to look over his shoulder, across the executive floor towards the glass partition that separated Gerri’s office from where their assistants sat. He could just about make out her silhouette, that elusive French twist catching his eye as he walked towards the glass partition of his own office, bringing him closer to her.
No one had to say it now. There was no need to confirm something when everyone knew it to be true. Roman loved Gerri. It was as simple and indisputable as that.
“I’ll deal with it,” Lily decided, her voice deeper as she threw her hat into the ring. Everything had changed beyond recognition within only a few months. And now this looming shadow threatened to ruin it all, to not only pull apart the lies her mother and Roman had told, but to jeopardise their own relationship. Something had to be done. “Just send me whatever info you have on this woman,” she instructed, the plan already forming itself in her head.
Natalia was the weak link. Everything came at a price, but a woman like Natalia could be bought. She just had to be approached with a delicate hand. Lily would appear disinterested but concerned enough to offer a helpful ear to get the information she needed, to earn her trust with little white lies. More lies. Always lies. But not for much longer. Lily could feel it in the air. The dying remnants of a summer that had changed them all beyond recognition. Winter was closing in on them, the air growing colder as the storm approached.
“You’re going to go after her and not Hugo?” Roman asked, his own gut instinct having told him to go after Hugo instead. But perhaps that would have been another mistake. No amount of blank cheques would be enough to shut up Hugo entirely. They’d need a different approach. A harder hand - one that might just offer to let him jump before pushing him out an executive floor window.
Lily sighed on the other end of the phone. “We’ll let Hugo cook for a while,” she declared, suspecting taking out Natalia would lessen Hugo’s leverage. They’d pull the rug out from under him. The Kellmans acting as judge, jury, and executioner, though Karolina deserved the privilege of kicking that particular toad out onto the street.
“And you agree that we shouldn’t tell Gerri?” Roman questioned, wondering if sharing the lie with Lily would be enough to balance out the guilt of keeping Gerri in the dark. “Roman, I…” Lily paused, thinking of the sight of her mother sitting on the bedroom floor with Selina, showing her daughter the vinyl records that she had grown up listening to. Her mother’s arias and her father’s jazz music. “I think things are different now. She has more to lose now,” Lily reminded him, that soft voice once more coming out. “She has us to lose now. All of us,” she wanted to say, but stopped herself.
“We can figure this out. I’ll deal with Natalia and we’ll figure Hugo out after,” she decided, suspecting she would have to be the one to take the lead on it. If Roman had turned to her for help, it was only out of desperation.
“We need to move fast, Lily,” he warned, knowing they only had until the deadline on Friday to find a way out of this mess. “Send me the details and I’ll see what I can do,” she countered, the clicking in the background made him assume she was texting on another phone. “Roman,” Lily said a moment later, bringing him out of his train of thoughts. “Yeah?” he asked, sitting himself down on the edge of his desk, eyes fixed across the executive floor towards Gerri’s office once more.
“You owe me approximately 100 hours of babysitting for this,” Lily insisted, her voice making Roman imagine her smiling on the other end. She smiled the same way Gerri did, but her smiles were never as guarded as her mother’s. Lily had never had to put on the corporate persona that Gerri had, the facade of the ‘ stone cold killer bitch’.
“Sounds fair,” he agreed, suspecting that Gerri would gladly take 100 hours of babysitting Selina. Plus, the kid seemed good fun. “I’ve got to run and see Anna, but I’ll keep you in the loop,” Lily announced, heels tapping against the marble floor as she started walking again. “Roman,” she paused again, stopping him from hanging up the phone. “Money buys secrets. We’ll sort this out. Mom never needs to know,” she reminded him.
Another secret for the vault. But it didn’t feel as burdensome now.
“I hope you’re right, Lily,” Roman declared, his eyes still fixed on the silhouette across the way as the line went dead.
An hour later, Gerri’s phone rang in her office. Lily’s name flashed across the screen, along with a photo of her and Selina at the beach. It had one of Gerri’s favourites from the album that Lily had shared with her. The two blondes beaming at the camera, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. But the flashing of Lily’s name was enough to set alarm bells ringing. Lily never called - and especially not during the workday.
“Hi, Mom, do you have a second?” Lily greeted her when she picked up the phone. “Sure, Lily, are you okay? Is anything wrong?” Gerri questioned quickly, her mind instantly going to a dozen different scenarios. Was Selina sick? Had something happened to Madeline? Maybe it was Elise? She scraped the nail of her index finger along her thumb, pulling at the clear polish on top.
“I’ve just got a call and need to meet a client out in the Hamptons. Some emergency with a big photoshoot and the advertising client is losing their mind. I don’t know what time I’ll make it back into the city tonight,” Lily explained, the background noise telling Gerri that she was out in public somewhere, between the sound of the cars and the chattering of passersby.
“Sounds fun,” Gerri remarked, wondering if Lily’s advertising clients were as troublesome as the Waystar Royco shareholders. “ The problem is that Elise is out of town today to see her dad and she’s not back until tomorrow night. Is there any chance…I know it’s a big ask but..” Lily continued, pausing as she weighed up her options on how to approach the topic. Tonight was the best chance she had of getting to ‘run into’ Natalia, but she’d need Gerri to take Selina to let that happen. And while her mother seemed keen to earn her new-found “GG” title, Lily wasn’t convinced she’d be keen on an overnight stay.
“Do you need me to get Selina?” Gerri offered without missing a beat. “Would you? I can send you over all the details but she’s at pre-k right now anyway. I have an emergency overnight bag that I keep at the townhouse. I can have Elise’s assistant bring it to Waystar or the housekeeper can let you in to pick it up,” Lily suggested, surprised by how quickly her mother had agreed to it but keen to make it as straightforward for her as possible. After all, Gerri had never left in the middle of the workday for her.
Gerri started typing on the laptop in front of her, popping up her calendar onto the screen, eyes glancing over the colour coded boxes that she ran her life by. There was nothing major in her calendar that couldn’t be pushed until at least the next day - and Alice could probably manage anything minor that would come in.
Gerri was wise enough to see the phone call for what it was. Another olive branch. She had to show up - for Selina and Lily. No matter how far out of her depth she might feel. “I can arrange for one of my assistants to look after her until you finish at work,” Lily offered, holding out another olive branch.
“What time does she get out of pre-k?” she asked in return, scanning over the calendar once more. “2:30,” Lily answered. Gerri glanced at the clock on the farside of the room. She’d have to leave Waystar by 2 at the latest.
“I’ll go and get her, we can call by the townhouse and get her stuff,” Gerri suggested, opening her leather soft bound notebook to start scribbling down notes. “Are you sure? I can call and have you added to the approved pick-up list,” Lily asked, sounding less than convinced.
Gerri’s grip tightened around her phone as she thought back to the day before. She had seen Lily there - watching her and Selina in the master bedroom - and she could surmise the thoughts her daughter was no doubt working through. “I’d like to do it, Lily,” Gerri insisted, well aware that this was a hurdle she couldn’t afford to fall at.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll text you over all the details,” Lily conceded, the background noise picking up once more. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got her,” Gerri assured her, exchanging a quick goodbye before the line went dead on the other end.
She wouldn’t be anyone’s Mary Poppins, but one night with her granddaughter wouldn’t bring the company to its knees. It could function without her for a few hours.
“Alice,” Gerri called from inside her office, watching as the familiar head of blonde hair popped around the doorframe. “Yes, Gerri?” She asked, notebook in hand, ready to jot down her instructions.
“I need you to clear my diary, I’ve got to be out of here by 2 o’clock at the latest. As in, walking out the door at 2 o’clock, not 10 past. Call Fredrick and tell him I need him here for then. He needs to bring Selina’s car seat with him, but I think it’s in the car anyway. See what calls you can move up for me to do before I leave. I can take some paperwork home but only anything that absolutely cannot wait until tomorrow,” Gerri instructed, scribbling more notes down on her own list as she tried to think of what she’d need to get for the girl. Her penthouse was hardly child-proof, but the guest room would work just fine on this occasion.
“Are you looking after Selina today?” Alice questioned, closing her notebook. She didn’t look as surprised as Gerri had expected her to. “Lily’s had a work emergency come up and Elise is out of town. I’m picking her up from pre-k and taking her to the penthouse,” she explained, opening her text thread with Roman before closing it again. They couldn’t afford for both of them to leave the office early.
“Big moment,” Alice acknowledged with a low whistle as she stepped further into the office. This felt like a directional change. She couldn’t think of one time in the last five years where Gerri had ended the work day early for something family related.
“You can say that again,” Gerri sighed, tapping her neatly manicured nails against her desk as she pulled up another email on her desktop.
“I’ll do what I can to move around your schedule. I think there’s a few things that will need your signature, but I’ll do a shuffle,” Alice assured her, a smile playing on her lips as she looked at her boss. None of this would have been possible a few months ago. Gerri didn’t even know Selina existed then. And Alice doubted that Gerri would have been picking up the childcare responsibilities then.
“Thank you, Alice. I might be able to get a bit of work done, but I don’t want to…” Gerri paused as Alice shook her head. “Gerri, don’t worry about it. I’ll screen your calls and keep the ship afloat. We won’t sink without you being at the helm for one afternoon,” her second assistant assured her, stopping Gerri from talking herself around in a circle that would have inevitably ended up with her corporate conscience getting to her.
Waystar Royco would still be standing tomorrow.
Alice had managed to get her out the door at 1:58 pm with Fredrick pulling away from the Waystar offices a few minutes later. She dropped Roman a text to let him know she’d be out of the office most of the day. At least one of them had to be around the office in case Logan pulled another stunt.
Lily had added her name to the pick-up list, allowing her to be buzzed through into the lobby. It was the sort of private school she imagined Lily and Elise had researched for months before signing Selina up to. Something at the back of her mind told her it was one of the schools Baird had almost chosen for their girls. But the school side of things had never been her strong suit.
Gerri had only ever done the school pick-up on four occasions. On both Lily and Madeline’s first days at school, the day Baird’s mother died, and when her own father had taken sick. Now here she was more than twenty years later picking up her granddaughter.
She adjusted her sunglasses, popping them on the top of her head as she listened to the women next to her discuss the upcoming PTA meeting. Had she ever gone to a PTA meeting? The girls had always been straight A students and something in the back of her mind told her Baird might have gone once. But she had attended board meetings and shareholder conferences instead of PTA meetings and school bake sales.
Gerri’s three-piece Armani suit looked out of place against the Lululemon leggings and the Alo sneakers. The gaggle of nannies and stay-at-home mothers all seemed acquainted with each other. A few of them threw questioning looks her way. Clearly the women (and the handful of men) in the lobby weren’t used to seeing an unfamiliar face at pick-up time.
It was jarring how out of place she felt standing in the lobby. The few women who appeared to be around her age had the look of an Upper East Side grandmother with their cashmere sweaters and Van Cleef necklaces. Past retirement age and reliving the childhood they had missed out on with their own children by looking after their grandchildren. Was that what she was doing here? Doing the things she had never done with Lily or Madeline with Selina?
The first classroom of children appeared down the hallway, walking out in a single file. Gerri spotted the top of the blue satin bow on the back of Selina’s hair before she saw her face. “GG!” Selina gasped, her black patent Mary Janes squeaking as she hurried towards her grandmother.
“Hello, Selina,” Gerri greeted, bending down to Selina’s height as she opened her arms for a hug, brushing the girl’s hair out of her face. “What are you doing here?” Selina asked as she leaned back, though she didn’t step out of her grandmother’s arms. “I’m taking you home with me, is that okay?” Gerri paused, mindful of the fact she had only spent a handful of hours with the girl. It was one thing for Lily to trust her with Selina, it was another for the girl to want to spend time with her without her mother there. They were still practically strangers to each other, no matter how much that little girl had carved herself into her heart.
“Where is Mama?” the girl questioned, though she didn’t appear upset by her mother’s absence. That was something at least. But it was clear that Selina was used to Lily - and not a nanny or assistant - picking her up everyday. That familiar pang of guilt pulled at Gerri’s heart once more. Maybe she should have made the same effort to be there. To be more present in her daughters’ lives - to have made it home before bedtime, to have found a way to see them for more than a few minutes each day. Baird had always managed it - somehow.
“She’s had something come up with work, so she asked me to come and get you,” Gerri explained gently as she reached forward to take the small backpack from the girl’s shoulders, wrapping her fingers around the handle at the top.
“Do you have BB?” Selina asked, looking around her grandmother as if expecting to see the little elephant plush in the woman’s hand. Lily always brought it with her, the plush popping out of the side of one of her Hermes handbags. “Where’s BB?” Gerri questioned, not remembering reading anything about the plush elephant in the three paragraph long text message Lily had sent her.
“At home,” Selina answered softly, thinking of how she had set it on top of her bed after Lily brushed her hair that morning. “He’s with Mr Snuffles and Pooh Bear,” she added, not wanting to leave out the other two plushies who were residents of her third-floor bedroom. That took Gerri on a walk down memory lane.
“We’re going to go get him, then we’re going to go back to my place,” Gerri assured her, fixing the buttons of Selina’s grey cardigan before standing up to her full height, taking the girl’s hand in her own, while carrying Selina’s backpack with the other. “Is Ro there?” Selina asked, swinging their joint hands a little backward and forwards as they headed out of the lobby and down the grey steps at the front of the school. “He will be later,” Gerri replied, deciding it would be best to leave Selina’s unexpected visit a surprise.
That seemed to be enough to put the little girl at ease. Selina started filling Gerri in on her day, listing off the friends she had played with and complaining about how the teacher had chosen ‘ baby books’ for them to read. Gerri wondered if Lily realised just how much her daughter sounded like herself at that age. Frederick stood waiting for them at the bottom of the building’s steps, the door of the SUV opening as they appeared.
“It’s the man with the funny voice,” Selina whispered in a high pitched voice, loud enough for the subject of her statement to hear her. “Fredrick,” Gerri acknowledged, biting back a smile as she handed their bags over to the man. “You can call me Freddie, Miss Selina,” the chauffeur announced, tipping his hat to the little girl as he held open the door for them both. Gerri picked Selina up, securing her into the booster seat before walking around the car to get in at the other side.
“Let’s go, Freddie,” Selina called through to the front of the car, before turning to her grandmother. “Can I play with Horus?” she asked, earning a laugh from Gerri as the SUV pulled away from the building, travelling down the city streets towards the townhouse.
Elise’s assistant greeted them at the penthouse, explaining that she had been dropping off some parcels for her boss. She retrieved the overnight bag and BB before making their way to the penthouse. By the time 7 pm rolled around, Gerri had remembered why she had stopped at two children. Selina had set up an obstacle course in the lounge for Horus, pulled apart one of the bookcases, and tried to paint her nails with the pink polish Gerri kept in her handbag for emergency touch-ups.
And through it all, Selina didn’t yawn once. The movie had been an attempt to slow her down and get her to sit still for more than 30 seconds.
“Who’s he?” Selina questioned, her index finger pointing towards the well-dressed man on the television screen. ‘Bringing Up Baby’ was playing, the first black and white movie that the girl had ever seen.
“ That’s Cary Grant,” Gerri answered, curled up on her usual side of the sofa, Selina tucked into her side. While Selina had gotten changed out of her uniform and into a sweater dress, Gerri was still in her workwear. Though her heels had been abandoned somewhere between the door and the kitchen with her blazer last seen near Horus’ enclosure.
“You know, he sort of looks like your Grandpa Baird,” she mused aloud, thinking of the fact it was one of the first times she had thought of Baird without feeling guilty or sad. The punishment for those left behind. He would have been a far more natural fit as a grandparent than her. But talking to Selina about him felt therapeutic in a way. She could tell her about all those little things without the emotional baggage that still surrounded Lily and Madeline.
“Oh,” Selina acknowledged, chewing on another one of the cut-up grapes Gerri had given her as a movie snack. “He’s pretty,” she added with a giggle, Gerri’s laugh harmonising with hers before Katharine Hepburn appeared back on the screen, searching for the pet leopard, Baby.
The electronic lock on the front door beeped before Gerri heard the familiar sound of Roman kicking off his shoes by the front door. “Ger!” he called, shrugging out of his coat as he hung it up on the hook next to her camel Max Mara coat. A dead giveaway that she was at home. But the discarded heels, haphazardly left on their side just before the kitchen, wasn’t normal.
“In the lounge,” Gerri responded, tapping her finger against her lips to tell Selina to stay quiet. The blonde girl nodded her head, putting her finger over the lips of her plush elephant for good measure.
Roman picked up the discarded heels, setting them neatly under Gerri’s coat before heading into the lounge. Gerri was sitting on her usual spot on the couch, a grey cashmere blanket thrown over her lap, Selina beside her with a distinctively devious little smile on her face. The usual stack of paperwork was sitting on the coffee table, but it appeared relatively untouched. Gerri’s laptop was sitting shut in the kitchen island.
All signs that she wasn’t in ‘work mode’. Clearly, that wasn’t the priority tonight.
“Why is there a spud on the couch?” Roman questioned, though his eyes were fixed on Gerri as she looked at Selina. The two of them made rather a picture together.
Selina giggled, pulling at the end of the cashmere blanket, her elephant plush pressed against her face. “I’m not a spud,” she cried over to him, showing her pearly white teeth. “Lily had something come up with work and Elise is out of town,” Gerri explained, running her fingers through the ends of Selina’s ponytail as the girl turned her attention back to the movie.
“You’re not indoctrinating the kid already, are you?” Roman tutted, dropping himself down onto the other side of the sofa. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. Anyone who waltzed through the door of Gerri’s apartment was destined to meet Grant, Powell, and Stewart. “I like it,” Selina announced, kicking her feet under the blanket she shared with her grandmother. “See,” Gerri said pointedly, nodding her head towards the girl whose eyes were still fixed on the silver screen.
“Have you had dinner yet?” Roman questioned, kicking off his Prada Oxfords as he leaned back on the sofa. “No, we were waiting on you,” Gerri answered, swiping one of the cut grapes off Selina’s plate and popping it into her mouth.
There was something unexpectedly domestic about that. They almost always ate dinner together these days - whether it was takeout in her office after the rest of the executive floor left or at one of the restaurants between the office and penthouse. But it was still unexpected for her to wait for him. How many times had he eaten takeout by himself because his siblings or Tabitha had gone on without him?
“What do you want, spud?” He asked, looking down at the blonde haired girl who had her head resting on the side of Gerri’s chest. “Preferably something that involves a vegetable, Roman,” Gerri cut in, giving Roman a stern look that told him Selina being there wouldn’t be an excuse for burgers or greasy takeout.
“Sushi,” he suggested, already scrolling through his phone for their usual takeout spot. “Roman, she’s four,” Gerri reminded him, though she had to remind herself that Roman had no reason to know what a four year old would or wouldn’t eat. “ I don’t know, do you eat sushi, spud?” Roman asked Selina, moving his face closer to the girl who was buried under the cashmere blanket. He could feel Gerri’s eyes watching him as he fidgeted with the end of Selina’s ponytail.
“I don’t know,” the girl replied as she simply shrugged her shoulders, arms raised as she went back to watching the movie, her head resting against Gerri’s side. Roman turned his attention back to his phone as Gerri’s hand snaked around Selina’s arm.
“Look, it’s got a kids menu,” he told her, pushing his iPhone screen up towards Gerri’s face. “I’ll choose what I want then you can just add whatever for you and the kid,” Roman decided, going back to scroll on his phone as he added his usual order before passing it over to Gerri.
The movie credits had started rolling by the time the food arrived. Roman made it back to the penthouse to find Gerri walking around in her nylon tights, Selina already seated at the round table at the side of the lounge. BB had been proudly plopped down onto the table next to her.
“Ro,” Selina said, looking at the man across from her. “Spud?” he asked, pausing with a spicy tuna roll held between his chopsticks. “What are those?” Selina asked, pointing to the cutlery in his hand. Gerri shook her head, sitting at the top of the table between the pair. She could tell this was going to end in a clean-up job.
“Oh, those are chopsticks,” Roman explained, picking up the third set of chopsticks that the restaurant had sent. “Sticks,” Selina repeated, holding her hand out to take the chopsticks from him. Gerri used her own chopsticks to push the sushi around on her plate, listening to her two dinner companions. Roman seemed to find it easier to talk to a four-year old than almost anyone else. That wasn’t surprising though. Kids like Selina didn’t come with the prejudices and assumptions that filled Waystar’s executive floor.
“You can play with them like sticks, yeah, or use them as drumsticks,” Roman explained, wiping his chopsticks clean before tapping them on the side of the table as if they were drumsticks. Selina giggled while Gerri moved her glass away before Roman could click his chopsticks against it.
“But we use them for eating sushi and things like that,” he concluded, using his chopsticks to pick up the spicy tuna roll he had discarded earlier. “Can you show me?” Selina asked, picking up the spare set of chopsticks as she tried to copy his actions. Gerri sat back on her seat, quietly observing Roman as he reached across the table to correct Selina’s fingers, moving them to the correct position before getting her to try with some rice.
It took a little trial and error but Selina eventually managed to get an avocado roll successfully into her mouth. Not counting all the rice she had managed to drop on herself and the floor.
An hour later and the sushi had been demolished, along with the cheesecake slices Roman had added as an extra pick-up to the takeout order. “It’s a balanced meal, Ger,” he had told her as he handed Selina over a slice that seemed as large as the little girl’s head. Gerri conceded without a fight. By the time that 8:30 rolled around, Selina had yawned enough to make even Gerri give a sympathetic yawn in return.
“I’m going to put her to bed, can you entertain yourself till I get back?” she asked Roman as she put the last plate into the dishwasher, looking over the island counter towards where Selina had curled up on the sofa. “Course I can,” Roman replied, putting the leftover cheesecake in the fridge before turning around in time to see Gerri scoop the half-asleep girl up into her arms, blankets and all. “You good?” he asked as Gerri adjusted the girl a little, getting used to the unfamiliar weight in her arms. She hadn’t carried a child that small in over twenty years, but there was a familiarity to feeling that weight cradled in her arms that felt bittersweet. “We’ll be fine,” Gerri assured him, her grip tightening just as little before setting off down the hallway towards the guest room.
Roman leaned against the kitchen island as he tried to find something to do. Monday martinis might have sounded good in theory, but not with a 4-year old down the hallway. Chardonnay would have to do instead.
“You’re good with her, you know,” Gerri announced by way of a greeting as she appeared around the corner twenty minutes later, leaning against the wall of the lounge. All signs of Selina’s presence were gone from the room, except for the little pink school bag that sat between her handbag and Roman’s briefcase at the side of the room.
“Kids are easier to understand,” he countered, holding the glass of wine outstretched towards her. His dinner experience with Selina had been better than any of the meals he had shared with his own family in the last decade. Perhaps because Selina talked more sense than Kendall on a good day. Gerri tilted the glass of wine towards him in thanks, before letting the first sip burn a little at the back of her throat.
“Maybe it’s because you’re at the same mental age as them,” she teased with a knowing smirk, walking around the coffee table towards the sofa. Gerri took another sip of her wine and Roman noticed then that she had taken off her nylon tights somewhere along the way, probably when she was putting Selina to bed.
“Ha fucking ha, Ger,” he taunted, walking around the other side of the table as he followed her into the lounge. Gerri nursed her wine glass between her fingers, taking a sip as Roman sat himself down beside her before draping himself over the sofa, his head using her lap as a pillow.
Roman closed his eyes as he felt Gerri’s nails scrape across his scalp. For a moment, he forgot about everything that had happened that day. Forgot about the ransom demand, his conversation with Lily, everything that led up to him coming home that evening. There it was again. That word. ‘ Home’. How had he come to so easily associate it with Gerri? The four walls of her apartment - and everything in it - had come to feel like his own. He would have been content to exist solely within that space. Without the headache of Waystar, the heartache of being a Roy, and the chaos of simply living in their sphere.
“Are you comfortable there?” Gerri questioned, an amused tone in her voice as she twirled the wine glass in her free hand, her other hand resting on Roman’s head. “Like a pig in shit,” he sighed contently, opening his eyes to admire the view as he looked up at Gerri. She tutted at him as she moved her fingers through his hair, lightly pressing on his scalp in little circular motions. The penthouse was virtually silent, except for the sound of the dishwasher swirling around in the kitchen and the white noise of the traffic below.
A reminder that a world did exist outside of the penthouse.
It was Roman who eventually broke the silence. “What are we going to do about Dad?” he asked as Gerri set her wine glass down on the table next to her, freeing her hand for him to take. “I don’t know, Rome,” she admitted as he turned the gold rings on her fingers, fidgeting with them to distract himself. “Matsson won’t be kicking you out,” Roman insisted, his eyes twitching in a way that always told Gerri when he was hiding something. “You seem pretty confident about that,” she remarked, her other hand still massaging his scalp. “Call it a sixth sense,” Roman offered by way of an answer.
“What’s the game plan here?” she asked, her logical brain needing some sort of pat for them to follow. “I don’t know, a blood sacrifice?” Roman scoffed, as if the blood letting would be that easy. “If only it was that simple,” Gerri agreed, having seen for herself how far Logan was willing to go to fight for his company. He wouldn’t be content to just hand it over to Mattson and she doubted he’d be content to see her and Roman left behind, still controlling the company he had built. No, that would be a punishment worse than death.
“We stay on track. Finesse Matsson, keep the board on side,” Roman suggested, keen to move on from the topic. “Wait for the Ides of March,” Gerri interrupted with a raised eyebrow, wondering if this was destined to be a Greek or a Shakespearian tragedy. This was all following a similar pattern, history repeating itself as it always did when sons stood up against their fathers. But this felt like the coming of something. The Ides of March. The fall of Caesar, betrayed by his own inner circle. But could you be both Brutus and Octavian? Could Roman be both? Her eyes fell on the stack of clothbound books next to the television, the raised gold foiling listing each of the Bard’s most fitting works.
The Tempest. King Lear. Julius Cesar. Hamlet.
“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves,” Gerri sighed, reciting the line of Shakespeare that had stuck with her all these years. Perhaps the fault lay with them and the lies they had told. But those lies had brought them to this moment. To Roman laying on the sofa with his head in her lap in the tranquillity of her apartment, her granddaughter fast asleep down in the guest room that had sat unused until only a few weeks ago.
“Geez, you’re such a nerd," Roman teased, the tension in his shoulders releasing as he chuckled to himself, holding her hand against his chest as she looked down at him, her hair loosely falling out of its twist.
“ A nerd? How old are you, twelve?” she joked, her hand moving from his hair to cup his cheek. “Just keeping you young, G,” Roman reminded her, putting his hand on top of hers on his cheek. But there was something in his eyes that told her Roman was once again hiding something behind his humour.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked, though she knew there were any number of possible answers. His father. The RECNY ball. Mattson. Even Lily and Selina. “Nothing,” Roman answered, his eyes fixed on her face, as if memorising the finer details of how her lashes curled a little higher at the end or the way her eyeliner had gotten smudged in the corner. “Roman,” Gerri scolded him, her tone evident that she didn’t believe him. “Seriously, it’s nothing,” he brushed it off again, pushing himself up on the sofa as he sat up straight, looking her in the eyes now.
“You never could lie to me,” she reminded him, eyes narrowing as she leaned forward. Gerri prided herself on her ability to read Roman like a book, even more so now. “I never want to lie to you,” Roman pointed out, feeling the need to press that nuance. He didn’t want to keep anything from her or to lie to her, but here they were. Yet another secret and a dozen little white lies taking up the space between them.
Gerri pursed her lips, the aroma of Roman’s cologne still lingering enough for it to distract her for a moment. The amber and vanilla notes told her it was the one she had bought for him two weeks earlier. The little Tom Ford bottle that had been given a home on her vanity table. Just another thing of his that was taking up her space “What do you want?” she pondered, turning the question on its head. Roman didn’t miss a beat.
“You. That’s always my answer,” he mused, inching closer to her as he closed the distance between them.
Gerri knew exactly what his intentions were. He always had a one-track mind when he had that look in his eye, when his features seemed to darken and his voice went hoarse. “Absolutely not, Rome. Not on the sofa,” she scolded him, though she leaned back a little more on the sofa, the armrest keeping her upright.
“Didn’t complain about it last week,” he reminded her, one hand already undoing the top button of her blouse. Roman had started to think she deliberately wore those shirts, the ones with the fiddly little buttons that he could never properly undo himself. He had ripped more than one of her shirts in the heat of the moment, when he’d given up on those silly buttons and taken matters into his own hands.
“Yeah well, that was last week. Now, move,” Gerri instructed, batting away his hands as she squirmed out from under him, downing the rest of her wine before she carried the empty glass towards the kitchen. “Yes, Ma’am,” Roman saluted her, trailing after her as she moved from the kitchen and towards the master bedroom, taking extra care when they passed the guest bedroom.
“You need to be really fucking quiet,” Gerri whispered, holding the bedroom door open as Roman followed in behind her. “You know, I’ve gotten very good at sneaking into your bedroom,” Roman tutted, backing her into the bedroom door as he kissed her, fingers fumbling once more with those buttons, while one hand went in search of the zipper of her skirt. At this time of night it didn’t matter if he smudged her lipstick or not - in fact, he made a point of it, pulling away long enough to run his thumb across the corner of her lips, the rosey pink rouge coming off on his skin.
Gerri’s hand fumbled around at the door, fingers grasping around for the turn lock below the handle. It bolted with a click as Roman finally succeeded in releasing another button.
“ No, you are not ripping another shirt. Absolutely not,” Gerri scolded, tapping his hands away from her blouse as Roman walked backwards towards the bed. He could - and had - navigated his way around the master bedroom practically blind folded. His knees hit the back of the bed as he reached out to take Gerri down with him, her skirt pooling to the floor. Her fingers made quick work of the remaining buttons, Roman’s hands on either side of her waist to hold her firmly in place as she pulled the blouse over her head, giving him an unobstructed view of her lingerie.
La Perla silk. Her signature. But this set was different. Midnight black with a plunging neckline and underwire, the flower embroidery hand stitched into place, pressed flush against her skin.
He hadn’t bought her that set. And he hadn't seen it in her closet - because he’d poked around her lingerie drawer on a regular basis these days.
It was one of those little things he liked to do in the mornings while she was applying creams and serums on her face that cost more than the median household income. Those were the few minutes in the day when he’d let himself sneak into her closet. He’d admire the neat rows of colour coordinated shoes and the Armani suits that hung up next to the more casual wrap dresses and jeans Gerri preferred to wear at home. So, Roman would consider himself an expert in the contents of Gerri Kellman’s lingerie drawer. And he had never seen that set.
“That new?” he questioned, leaning back on his elbows as he toyed with the waistband of the matching underwear. Gerri hummed, working on undoing the buckle of his belt. “Consider it your ‘thank you’ for the RECNY ball,” she announced, stopping for a section to admire the frastaglio embroidery for herself as Roman smirked up at her.
“Be quiet,” she warned once more, leaning down on top of him until Roman’s back started to sink into the egyptian cotton of the bed sheets. “I’ll be mute,” he promised, crossing his heart before he rolled them over, his shirt flying over his shoulder to one side of the room. “You better be,” Gerri threatened as a final warning.
Roman did not in fact stay mute. At least until he ended up with La Perla silk stuffed between his teeth to keep him quiet.
Across Manhattan, the night was still young. Cities like New York were as busy on a Monday night as they were on a Friday night, the jazz bars and hotel lobbies a hive of activity. Harry’s was the sort of bar that had as many regulars as it did one-time guests. The speakeasy was where Natalia came when she had to think. Its dim lighting, piano melodies, and extensive cocktail list made it the ideal setting to contemplate your life decisions. But on this particular evening, Natalia was spending her time trying to shrug off the two stock brokers who couldn’t seem to take a hint.
“Sorry, boys, I really can’t,” Natalia insisted as they offered once again to take her out for a ‘slap up meal and a good time’. She twirled the empty cocktail glass around in her hand, praying to Hecate that neither of them would offer to buy her another drink. Why could men never get the message? “I have a friend meeting me here soon then we’ve got dates to get to,” she lied, knowing very well how the idea of another man - even one who didn’t exist - was enough to finally get most men to back down.
The little bell over the red wooden door at the front of the bar dinged as it opened, quickly shutting again as the two men’s attention shifted to the blonde woman who had just arrived. One man elbowed the other in an attempt to get him to stop his elevator eyes - even if they had been basking in the sight of vintage Mugler. A simple little black dress with a shorter hemline than the blonde would normally have worn, though her signature Louboutins stayed on.
“Vodka martini, shaken, with an olive, please,” The newcomer ordered, setting her clutch bag onto the bar. “And whatever she’s drinking,” she added, nodding her head towards Natalia’s empty glass. The blonde licked her lips as she clocked her head towards the two men. “That’ll all be all, gentlemen. There’s two twenty-somethings over there by the door that look desperate to pick up some sugar daddies for the evening,” she announced, cherry red lips pulled into a fake smile.
It seemed the pair finally got the message.
“Thanks for that, they were about to become a handful, and I’ve had enough men-related trouble as it is,” Natalia smiled as the blonde sat down onto the stool at the bar beside her, as the two cocktails - a martini and cosmopolitan - were set down in front of them. “Men like that always are,” Lily acknowledged, lips flushed against the rim of her martini glass as she took the first sip.
“I’m Natalia,” she introduced herself, holding her hand out across the cocktail glasses. “Sabrina Fairchild,” the blonde replied with a smile. Lily thought her mother might find the irony in that. Using the name of her favourite Audrey Hepburn character to charm the woman helping to blackmail them. Not that her mother even knew about the blackmail.
“So what’s your men-related trouble?” Lily probed, leaning back on the stool as she crossed one nylon-clad leg over the other. “A beautiful woman like you not letting two guys with Rolexes buy her dinner and drinks? You’ve defo got something on your mind,” she observed, burgundy nails clicking against the stem of the martini glass.
“I’m more of an Omega girl,” Natalia replied with a shrug, her eyes glancing down at the tank watch on her companion’s wrist. “Cartier,” Lily smirked, flashing her watch at the woman and getting a nod of approval.
“My men problems are complicated,” Natalia continued, leaning forward a little in her seat as she wagged her index finger at Lily to come closer. “I got hired as an escort, well, a sort of escort, for this crazy billionaire and anyway, the guy didn’t go through with it, but I’ve now ended up in this whole con out of it,” she sighed, perching her chin on her hand as she rested her elbow on the bar. “And it’s a mess,” she groaned, reaching for her cocktail glass once more, downing almost half of it in one go.
Lily kissed her teeth, impressed that she had gotten this far so quickly. “What got you caught up in all that?” she asked, doing her best impression of someone who was making polite conversation. As if the “crazy billionaire” in question wasn’t her mother’s boyfriend.
“Same reason anyone does anything. Money,” Natalia announced, saluting her cocktail glass towards Lily once more before turning her attention to flagging down the bartender. “ Are you planning on jetting off somewhere? What do you need the money for?” Lily quizzed as the bartender returned to make them another round of cocktails, even though hers was still sitting relatively untouched.
“I’d like to go live it up in Monaco,” Natalia giggled with a laugh that told Lily this wasn’t the first time the woman had thought about that particular plan over several Cosmopolitans. “Monte Carlo, bit of a cliche, isn’t it?” Lily asked, playing the devil’s advocate as she pursed her lips. So far everything was going exactly as she had expected it to.
“Alright Miss. Upper East Side,” Natalia teased, tapping the toe of her Amina Muaddi slingback pump against Lily’s Louboutins. “Mr. Bartender. Bring us a food menu please, we’ll be staying for a while,” she announced, tapping her fingernails against the marble top of the bar.
Lily smirked behind her martini glass. She had reeled Natalia in. Hook, line, and sinker.
Roman turned over as he saw the reflection from the light of his phone screen illuminating, reaching one hand out towards the bedside table. It was 2am but he had been staring at the ceiling for three hours now, unable to sleep peacefully with all the noise in his head. He tried to keep his other arm as still as possible, not wanting to wake Gerri up beside him.
A text sat at the top of the stack of notifications with Lily’s name staring back at him. He had added her to the priority list on his ‘do not disturb’ setting. The text was simple and to the point.
Natalia can be bought. I’ll think up a number.
He turned his head to look back at Gerri, the dim light of the bedside lamp illuminating her face. She’d never have to know. They’d paid Natalia off and sent her on her merry way. Hugo could be dealt with. And it would be one more impossible problem at least partially solved.
Yet, Roman didn’t feel any less tense. Not with the wind picking up outside the balcony window, the rain crashing against the glass. The thunder was rolling in, the lighting soon to flash across the city.
The Ides of March were coming.
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry that it took longer than usual. It feels a little odd to be so close to the end of this story with so much of the plot still to be wrapped up. We only really have another three chapters as the last one is an epilogue. I'd love to hear if you have any thoughts/theories/feelings about where we are - and where we might be going next!
Chapter 22: The Lady Macbeths and Their Little Fucking Screwdrivers
Notes:
Hello! I'm sorry this chapter took a little while, you can blame real-life shenanigans for that. This chapter has a little bit of everything in it (and as per usual, has ended up a *lot* longer than I thought it would be). Anywho, watch for the breadcrumbs. They're everywhere this chapter.
It's worth noting that this chapter takes place over the course of several days. I've divided it up so that it's hopefully easy enough for you to follow.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wednesday
Deals were always done in plain sight. The idea that the devil only worked in the shadows existed merely in fiction. It was how men like Hugo Baker had climbed their way up the greasy ladder. Nick Carter contemplated that fact as he sat across from the man at a little coffee shop a block or so away from the Waystar Royco office.
“Logan’s pissed, naturally, of course,” Hugo announced as he leaned over his Americano as they huddled around a table in the corner of the store. He had spent the last ten minutes ranting about Logan’s growing concern for Gerri’s rising profile, how the shareholders had taken the ‘news’ of her permanent appointment.
“What’s his plan to deal with her then?” Nick asked, nursing his black coffee between his hands. “We’ll make her reconsider sticking around Waystar,” Hugo declared, having already put the plan that he had discussed with Logan into action. “What are you going to do?” he questioned, wondering why it always felt like he was pulling teeth trying to get information from the older man.
“Usual tactic. Go for the kids - well, the grandkid,” Hugo continued, leaning a little closer to Nick now. “You mean…” Nick paused, trying to keep his features neutral as he heard the alarm bells in his head starting to ring. “That kid of Lily’s. He’s got a PI on them,” Hugo revealed, looking too proud of himself for Nick’s liking. If Roman was there, Nick reckoned he would have taken a swing at him.
“Hugo, you do realise who that girl’s other mother is, right?” he pointed out, already seeing the fatal flaw that Logan had failed to foresee. “ Yeah, the Ward woman,” Hugo gestured, lifting his coffee cup up as if to suggest that it was a meaningless fact.
Nick grinded his teeth. He’d hardly call Elise Ward, sole heir to Ward Inc. with a mighty investment portfolio of her own, simply “the Ward woman” - but that was casual misogyny for you. But Hugo under-estimating the danger of a woman like Elise would only play in their favour. Let him think that she wasn’t a formidable enemy. That’s how stupid men always undid their own plans - but underestimating women for not more than their gender.
“So long as Logan knows who he’s taking on,” he warned, imagining what would happen if Elise Ward ever stepped foot into the Waystar Royco building. It would no doubt be a seismic event. And one that would leave at least one body on the floor.
“There’s family history there - on all sides,” Nick added, thinking of the rumours he had heard about Elise’s father. His two-year long battle with Logan for control of ATN in the ‘90s and his eventual dementia that had forced Elise to jump up into the top seat.
It was always the good ones who were struck down by such tragedies. There was a certain cruelty to it - to having to stand back and watch someone you love become a mere shadow of themselves. Slip through your very fingers until one day they no longer remembered who you were.
Hugo’s phone rang. “I’ve got to take this, it’s probably the private investigator,” he announced, standing from his seat as he patted Nick on the back. “It won’t be long now, Nicky boy, better get your new business cards ready,” he joked, chuckling to himself as he walked off to take the call outside.
Nick downed the rest of his coffee and prayed that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
Gerri walked out of her office, phone in hand as she texted Fredrick. “I have a lunch meeting, can you screen my calls for me?” she asked as she came to a stop in front of Alice’s desk, setting down a large Manolo Blahnik shopping bag next to her. “I have a few things that are in there that I was going to donate, you girls can look through them if you want. Anything you don’t like, just send it to Goodwill,” she instructed, before glancing across the executive floor towards Logan’s office where Roman was in a meeting with Hugo and Karl.
“If Roman’s looking for me, tell him he can get me on my personal phone,” she added, pulling the secondary phone out of her coat pocket. “No problem, Ger. I’ll get Fredrick to text when you’re on your way back so that we can have everything ready for the meeting with the regulators,” Alice assured her, stealing a peek into the contents of the bag that now sat at her feet. “Have a nice lunch!” she called as Gerri headed out.
“Sorry Gerri,” Hugo said as he side-stepped out of her way after he walked into her path, clearing the way towards the elevator. His eyes followed her as she stepped inside, too distracted by whatever had popped up on her phone to pay him much attention. He waited until the elevator doors shut before he turned to look at the two assistants sitting at their desks in the centre of the executive floor.
Alice and Emily had earned the nicknames of ‘the gatekeepers’ - the first assistants to Waystar’s CEO and COO. No one got to Roman and Gerri without going through at least one of them. And neither of them was a fan of Hugo.
“Who is the boss away to meet?” Hugo inquired, leaning over the top of the divider that separated Emily’s desk from Alice’s. “The President,” the blonde responded, contemplating whether the jade hair pin that held her French twist together could be used as a weapon. It would look rather attractive stuffed down Hugo’s windpipe.
“Uhm, right,” Hugo mused, turning around to look at Emily, but the brunette seemed more interested in reapplying the top coat to her nails than in throwing him a bone. “Well, if you girls ever need anything, you know where to find me,” he tried, waiting another few seconds before eventually taking the hint.
“Alice,” Emily warned, finally looking up as she raised her right hand to her, gently blowing along the freshly painted nails. The blonde simply shrugged as she looked across the divider. “Hey, if I had to bet on the first female President, Elise Ward would be pretty high up on that list,” Alice insisted, glancing out of the corner of her eye as Nancy reappeared from the direction of the ladies’ room.
“Touché,” Emily agreed, before following Alice’s line of sight towards the second assistant. Gone was Nancy’s colourful wardrobe of pastels and feminine silhouettes, replaced with a black mini shift dress that seemed to dull that once glittery personality. Emily clicked open the WhatsApp chat on her laptop screen, typing in Nick’s name as Nancy slid back into her seat without a word.
“Oh, shit,” Alice exclaimed, finally digging into the Max Mara bag under her desk. “If there’s any Ralph Lauren in there it’s mine,” Emily warned as she stood from her seat, looking over the divider to see what her fellow assistant had found. “She’s finally getting rid of those hideous purple shoes,” Alice chuckled, turning them over in her hands before setting them aside to be donated. Maybe someone could make an art project out of them.
By the time Gerri had made it down to the lobby, Fredrick was standing waiting for her by the sidewalk. “Going off without the old ball and chain?” he asked as he held the door of the racing green DBX open for her. “I thought I was the old ball and chain,” Gerri bounced back, setting her bag onto the floor before getting in herself. “I think it depends who you ask, ma’am,” he joked, before closing the door and heading around to the driver’s side.
The jolt across Manhattan took less than 10 minutes, giving Gerri enough time to scan her eyes over the latest proposal from Matsson’s team before her lunch date arrived. There was always a change in the air when Elise Ward stepped into a room. Gerri couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was a certain confidence that came from being a woman born into a position so often given to the eldest son. By virtue of being an only child, Elise had always been assured in the knowledge that it would be a seamless succession to the top job.
“Elise!” Gerri waved, drawing the brunette’s attention from across the bistro. “Gerri, you look great! I love that colour on you,” Elise beamed, taking in the sight of the periwinkle blue shift dress her mother-in-law was wearing with its sweetheart neckline and little gold buttons. “Oh, this old thing….I just pulled it from the back of my closet,” the blonde insisted, shaking her head.
But gone were the old grey and neutral suits. The last few months had seen her hemline get shorter and her clothes take a lighter, more feminine colour palette. Elise wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Alice had started keeping a running tally of her newfound colour palette. Something in the back of Gerri’s mind told her that her younger bed partner was at least partly to blame for her changing fashion sense.
Elise pulled away, setting her Goyard tote down into the booth before sliding in next to it as Gerri retook her seat. “What do I owe for a lunch date with my mother in law?” She asked, setting her sunglasses onto the table before placing her phone face down next to them.
“I just wanted to touch base, I thought it was time we got to know each other better,” Gerri explained, though she had at least one ulterior motive for treating the younger woman to lunch.
Elise raised a suspicious eyebrow. No one as busy as Gerri used up a valuable lunch date to talk with a family member unless there was something urgent happening. “Sure you do, touch base on what exactly?” She asked, finding herself drawing out the similarities between Gerri and her wife as she took in the woman’s features. Those two were more alike than either of them would probably ever admit.
“I’m increasingly getting the sense that something is going on,” Gerri confessed, glancing around the bistro as if she was expecting someone to be sitting nearby with a tape recorder. But she had chosen the bistro for lunch solely to be able to speak to Elise without risking running into either of their significant others - or anyone from Waystar for that matter.
Roman seemed to be lost in his own thoughts more than usual. Their assistants were scatterbrained, between Nancy’s breakdowns in the bathroom and Nick’s disappearing act. She hadn’t been able to get Lily on the phone for longer than 90 seconds and everyone seemed to know something she didn’t.
“With who?” Elise questioned, her voice a little lower as she leaned closer across the table. “Everyone,” she responded with a slight shrug, picking at the clear polish on her thumb nail. “You’ll have to elaborate,” Elise insisted, but their conversation was interrupted by the waiter who came to take their order and fill their glasses with water.
They quickly placed their order. Two caesar salads - light on the bacon, heavy on the cheese - with two lattes and a side of fries to split.
“Lily seems a little distracted, I’ve hardly been able to get a hold of her in the last week,” Gerri continued once the waiter left their table. That had been the main reason why she had invited Elise to lunch. Part of her was terrified at the idea of smothering her daughter. It wasn’t something she could have been accused of when Lily was growing up - or even after Baird had died - but their relationship had evolved more in the last four months than it has in the past decade.
“She’s just got a lot going on,” Elise admitted, biting down on the corner of her lip, pulling at the red lipstick there, as she tried to force back a smirk. “Oh,” Gerri observed, sensing that there was more to that story than her daughter-in-law was willing to openly admit.
Elise pressed her lips together, turning her wedding band as she glanced to the side, unable to maintain eye contact with the older woman. “Yeah, you know, doctors appointments, things like that,” she tried to shrug it off casually.
“Is everything okay?” Gerri questioned, sliding forward a little on her seat. Was Lily sick? Had she been so distracted by Roman and everything happening at Waystar to notice that her own daughter wasn’t well? That familiar pang of maternal guilt pinched at her side again.
“Better than okay. She’s just busy,” the younger woman assured her, still fiddling with the platinum band on her left hand. It was then that Gerri noticed the tattoo on the inside of Elise’s wrist - two little stars, one on either side of a crescent moon.
“Elise,” she cautioned, part of her wondering if it was worth pushing her daughter-in-law further. But she didn’t know Elise well enough to be able to read her yet. At least not the way she could read Lily or Roman. She and Elise were still virtually strangers to each other.
There was a pregnant pause as the brunette seemed to debate whether or not to let Gerri in on the secret.
“Let Lily be the one to tell you,” Elise insisted, pausing as she raised her glass to her lips. “She already owes you for the first one,” she smirked then, relaxing as she watched the gears start to turn in Gerri’s head. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything at all, but Gerri would inevitably come to put two and two together in her own time. Though Elise knew there was more happening and she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell the older woman about the mishap with the NDA.
It took Gerri a minute to put two and two together.
“The first one…oh my god,” she exclaimed, realising what she currently only had one of. Her mind went back over her conversations with Lily and suddenly everything clicked. When she asked about getting her baby things out of storage and how she had been popping a handful of supplements during brunch the weekend before. So the little patter of tiny feet was why Lily had been off with her.
“It’ll take a while, obviously, but just…let her tell you when it happens. That’s why she’s distracted right now,” Elise explained, giving Gerri’s hand a squeeze as she watched the colour gradually return to her mother-in-law’s face. But the expression on Gerri’s face wasn’t the jubilation that Elise had expected at the news that she was - hopefully - going to become a grandmother for a second time.
There was a nervousness there. The way Gerri’s shoulder seemed to hunch inward, her hands shaking just a little, told their own story. The stakes were even higher now. Another milestone in her daughter’s life she risked missing out on if she didn’t play her cards right.
Her fingers squeezed Gerri’s hand as she tried to bring the other woman back to the present. “I get the sense you’re also a little distracted yourself,” Elise observed, the far off look in Gerri’s eyes telling her that she was trying to factor this latest bombshell into her messy little life. A personal life that loomed ever larger as it became more important than her corporate life. The two sides of her life finding themselves once more off-balanced.
“I’m just in my own head a lot right now,” Gerri admitted, eyes narrowing as she thought back to the first time she had seen Selina. To when all the messiness and chaos of life seemed to melt seamlessly into the background. “About what?” Elise asked gently, still holding the other woman’s hand as she tried to coax an answer out of her.
The waiter chose that moment to return with their coffees.
Gerri took a sip, letting the coffee release a little of the tension from her shoulders. “The future. Things are so very, very different than they were a few months ago,” she confessed, thinking of how seamlessly her life could now be divided into a time before Italy and a time after it. Even more so than Japan. That had been the fountain of it all but Italy was where it had changed. Where that one lie had set them on this unending course to where they were now - with all the chaos and upheaval that had happened in between.
Elise squeezed her hand once more, “Well, you know, CEO at Waystar Royco will look like a very different position once Matsson is in charge, your life might be able to change again - for the better all around, I’d say,” she suggested, imagining that life at Waystar without Logan Roy would be virtually unrecognisable.
“Why do you think I’ll still be CEO when Matsson takes over?” Gerri questioned with a raised eyebrow, wondering if it was a common perception across Wall Street that she’d stay in post. “Call it a hunch. Matsson and I run in similar circles. I’ve met him a few times. I’ve dabbled a bit in some tech start-ups in Europe. Our paths have crossed,” Elise explained, letting go of Gerri’s hand as she picked up her coffee mug, welcoming the drink like a warm embrace as she leaned back in her seat. This seemed like a conversation she needed to get comfortable for.
“I just…Waystar is no longer the centre of my universe,” Gerri confessed, though the words seemed foreign to her even as she said them. After Baird died, she had assumed that they’d be wheeling her out of the executive floor in a coffin. That she’d become a part of the furniture and spend more time with the Roys than her own family. Just another executive in an Armani suit who had sold her soul to the devil for a blank cheque and an expense account with extra elastic on it.
But then Roman happened. And suddenly the centre of her universe shifted from her office on the executive floor to her 16th-floor penthouse.
“Oh trust me, I get you,” Elise sighed, thinking of how the woman across from her was so alike to the person she had been five years previously. “Lily - and Selina as well - came along right as I was taking a big step up at the company when my father retired. I was doing everything I possibly could to keep the company going, make it live up to its potential. It was all I ever thought about,” she explained, a heaviness in her voice that Gerri hadn’t expected.
“And then?” She asked, pouring an extra sugar into her coffee as she absentmindedly stirred a spoon around the porcelain cup. “Then suddenly Lily was the first thing I thought about in the morning and the last thing I saw at night,” Elise admitted, her voice steady as she looked down at her wedding band.
Gerri realised then how true that statement also was for her and Roman. How had things changed so quickly in only a matter of months? He had gotten under her skin. Managed to crawl his way into every facet of her life, but all without suffocating her. They had found a way to co-exist, to function both at the office as business partners and within the confines of the penthouse as romantic partners. No matter how blurred those lines had become with time.
“And then Selina came along. She got placed with me a lot earlier than I was expecting but it was…well, in hindsight it was the perfect timing,” Elise continued, offering her mother-in-law another perspective into how quickly things had changed for her. A reminder of how one decision could change everything. Create a life that was barely recognisable.
“I think if it wasn’t for Lily I wouldn’t be the mother I am now. I would’ve spent too much time at the office. Always putting Ward Inc. before Selina. She’d probably have had an army of nannies, instead of two mothers,” Elise contemplating, her eyes fixed on the woman across from her. She had come so close to falling into the same trap Gerri had - sacrificing her home life, ignoring every pang of maternal guilt, for the sake of her career. It seemed Gerri recognised that as much as she did.
“You would’ve been the sort of mother I was to my girls,” Gerri observed, pursing her lips as she once more found herself weighing up what was actually important. The pendulum seemed to swing from one direction to the next. But there was now an undeniable line in the sand. Waystar no longer consumed every waking second of her day. Not the days that started and ended with Roman. The days she now spent looking at the clock, thinking of Lily on the school run or Maddie getting to her latest check-in spot. When she no longer lingered around her office, eating dinner at her desk, to avoid coming home to an empty apartment that housed nothing more than an ancient tortoise and boxes full of memories.
“That was different, it was a different time,” Elise countered, grinding her teeth as the waiter’s impeccable timing struck again as he returned with their food. She smiled and assured them that they had everything, before turning her attention back to where Gerri was sitting with her hands in her lap. Contemplating. Simply contemplating the meaning of life.
“Not really, not in the ways that matter,” Gerri shook her head, the corners of her eyes tingling as she tried to keep her chin steady.
“Lily told me you got along very well with Selina. She said you’re definitely suited for the role of grandmother,” Elise recounted, deciding to leave out the part where Lily had cried in her arms after putting Selina to bed that night. Telling her how Gerri had sat on the floor next to the little girl, looked at her with such reverence and adoration as if she hung the moon. But Elise knew her wife well enough to know she had been thinking of another little girl while watching them. And that had been at least partly the reason for her tears.
“Probably a better fit at that than being a mother. I never did do a very good job at being a wife either,” Gerri countered, picking up her fork as she started to aimlessly move the salad leaves around her plate.
Perhaps her life was now a series of second chances. A second chance to be a mother. A second chance to be… something… to Roman. Even another shot at her career - if she wanted it - a career that would no longer rely on the whim of Logan Roy.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Gerri,” Elise warned, glancing at the clock as she contemplated whether she could cancel the rest of her afternoon and walk them to the nearest martini bar. “I don’t want to get too comfortable - with any of it really. Having Lily back, Selina, even…” she paused, battling against the lump that formed in her throat, “Especially Roman.”
Definitely in need of a martini then.
Elise pushed her salad out of the way, waving over the bartender as she ordered two martinis - strong on the vodka, light on the vermouth - before turning her attention back to Gerri.
“Why?” She asked, wondering why the woman across from her seemed hell bent on refusing to allow herself to be happy. To allow herself to finally be in control of her life, no longer with Logan Roy’s boot at her neck, suffocating her every time she was seen as a challenger.
“I don’t think this is over yet. It’s not going to be as simple as Logan exiting the company and Matsson coming in. I can feel a storm coming and I don’t know...Roman is the Roy most like his father, at least the ways that actually matter, but he feels threatened by us. I can see it,” Gerri revealed, fingers fidgeting with the gold pendant around her neck, turning the little gold bean between her fingertips.
“I know it’s a cliche, but I think we’re still in this…what do you call it? Honeymoon phase,” she shrugged, bypassing her salad to make a beeline for the French fries. Perhaps the carbs would help her brain to rewire itself. Nothing lasts forever. Most certainly not a honeymoon phase - even more so one like this. Gerri couldn’t shake off the feeling that they were on borrowed time, unable to stop the inevitable tempest just beyond the horizon.
“I think you’re well past the honeymoon phase,” Elise chuckled, thinking of how they were more like an old married couple with their shared routines, their lives now seamlessly interwoven together. When was the last time Roman even stepped foot in his own apartment?
“Plus, Waystar will look different with Matsson around. That I can promise you,” she added, pointing her fork towards Gerri before she took a stab at the French fries as the waiter returned with their martinis.
Gerri didn’t wait to thank him before bringing the glass to her lips, hungrily sipping on it as if it was ambrosia. “You think so?” She asked, licking at her damp lips as she cradled the martini glass between her fingers.
“Matsson will bring in the Danish work culture with all its hygge bullshit and work/life balance crap,” Elise recounted, sipping on her drink, savouring its taste as she tried to navigate her way through the forest that was Gerri Kellman’s personal life. She wondered if either of them knew the dangers that could be lurking in the shadows - just waiting to jump out once their backs were turned.
“No reason why you couldn’t run Waystar during the day and go back home to Roman at night. That is if you still want to be CEO when Matsson is ruling the kingdom,” she insisted, once again finding herself inevitably considering her own relationship. Perhaps they were mirror images of each other, even without considering the age gaps they had to their significant others.
“Do you not think Matsson would keep Roman on?” Gerri asked, setting her martini down as she felt her heart starting to beat in her ears. They had never properly discussed Roman’s position at Waystar, at least not in recent months. But part of Gerri had just assumed that he would be there, the ever present figure by her side, looming large in her shadow.
Waystar’s visionary Chief Operating Officer and her…well, that could be determined at a later date. They still weren’t comfortable putting a label on it. Boyfriend seemed juvenile. Partner impersonal, too close to corporate jargon to describe their relationship outside of the executive floor. For now, he was just simply her Roman.
Elise made a mental note of the fact Gerri had dodged her question. That was enough of a sign for her to conclude that her mother-in-law did want to remain as CEO - no matter how much she might shrug off the idea. Gerri wasn’t willing to give up on her career just yet, no matter how appealing a quiet little life in a penthouse apartment might seem in the witching hour.
“Would Roman want to stay on?” she questioned, part of her imagining that the man had never been given a choice about whether or not to work at Waystar. Elise had never been given a choice but she had forged a path that allowed her one foot in and one foot out. A balance that none of the Roy heirs had managed to achieve.
“Touché,” Gerri pondered between bites of her French fry. “Would you ever ask Lily to work for Ward Inc?” She countered, wondering if her daughter would ever consider stepping into the family business on that side. There would be a certain irony in that - after over twenty years of judging her for blurring the lines between family and business at Waystar.
“Oh, she’s going to,” Elise announced confidently, pushing her salad back towards her once more as she glanced at the clock, trying to keep one eye on the time. This seemed like the start of a conversation that would repeat itself over the coming weeks.
Gerri clocked an eyebrow. Perhaps the Ward family was different enough from the Roys for Lily to hold her nose and take up a position. But Gerri supposed it was a different ball game entirely. Not to mention the fact that Lily played a greater role in the succession of Ward Inc than Gerri did at Waystar.
“She’ll step down from Conde Nast when the time is right. Juggle the kids with a few side projects, then she’ll come on board at Ward Inc as a VP - you never know, might even just make her chairman of the board. Enough men have given their wives a push up the ladder. Women don’t use nepotism enough,” Elise declared, pondering if such nepotism could one day be extended to her mother in law.
“You‘ve really got it all figured out,” Gerri praised her, wondering why her own type A personality hadn’t been able to do the same here. “You could figure it out as well, if you stopped overthinking and catastrophizing everything,” Elise reminded her, suspecting that Lily’s overactive imagination and tendency to go straight to the worst possible outcome was a trait she had inherited from her mother. “No chance of that,” Gerri sighed, taking another sip of her martini.
Elise shook her head, setting her glass back down again as she leaned across the table. “What do you want?” she asked, inviting her lunch date to open that particular Pandora’s box. What Gerri thought she wanted and what she actually wanted were two different things. The blonde’s lips parted once, twice, and then a third time before she could find her words again.
“For things to just be like how they are now. Roman’s practically living at the penthouse. Work - with the exception of Logan’s antics - is going well. And I feel like I have the girls, all three of them, in my life now,” Gerri decided, feeling an overwhelming urge to put everything into a neat little bubble that she could protect. “But I can’t shake off the feeling that something is about to happen. Like a storm is brewing somewhere and I’m about to be blindsided by it,” she confessed, that sense of anxiety coming back, weighing heavy on her chest once more.
“Logan Roy won’t be around forever. And I think he’s dictated enough of your life,” Elise observed, the gears turning in her head as she pondered whether her mother-in-law truly had a Machiavellian side - or rather, a Lady Macbeth within her. The key to what Gerri wanted would take the removal of one of the chess pieces from the board. But that particular assassination would take a whole host of senators to achieve. “You can say that again,” Gerri agreed with a roll of her eyes.
Elise sat up a little straighter in her seat. “I think we can both agree Logan is on borrowed time now, Ger,” she said, testing the waters before she took the risk. Gerri had been around Logan for over thirty-years, married to one of his closest confidants, cleaning up after his white-collar crimes for almost every day of her professional career. There was loyalty there, however fragile it may now be.
But for the first time, Gerri admitted it. Admitted that there would be a Waystar without Logan Roy at the head. And that getting that particular boot off her neck would give the chance to finally breathe properly, filling her lungs with air as if she was breathing for the first time.
Perhaps death really would become her. Logan Roy’s death that was. Either in the metaphorical or the physical sense.
“I know he is, and I…” she paused, feeling the venom start to rise in her throat. All the years of biting her tongue, of being forced to turn a blind eye to the crimes of Logan Roy, of being little more than a nodding dog to a man who would have snapped her neck if it got him another slice of corporate pie. “I know he needs to go, not just for the company’s sake but,” she stopped, eyes meeting Elise’s now. Did Gerri even need to say it? This wasn’t just about her anymore. Gone were the days when she acted only in her own best interests. Everything was done in their best interest now.
“For your sake - and Roman’s as well” Elise added, picking up the pieces of that particular train of thought. That treacherous little thought that had planted itself in her brain. “I don’t know how we can make it happen. He’s hardly going to go down without a fight,” Gerri pointed out, feeling as if she was standing at the foot of Mount Everest, staring up at an impossible challenge that would seemingly bring her beyond the clouds above their heads. To a view that her eyes had never seen beyond - to the mere possibility of a life lived entirely differently.
“You’re family, Gerri, I’m here to help,” Elise offered, throwing her that lifeline. A man like Logan Roy couldn’t be brought down by one woman alone, no matter how strong willed any of them might be. No, it would take a senate to put an end to his rule. “I don’t have much family and….” she stopped, looking down into her martini, eyes tracing the red lipstick mark that she had smudged along the rim of the glass. “The truth of the matter is that you’re the only grandparent my children will ever have and for that, you’ll always have my support,” she confessed, the pain making itself known in her chest once more.
That caught Gerri off guard.
“Isn’t your father…?” she questioned, though her mind couldn’t think of the last time she had seen Elise’s father. He had once been a permanent fixture at New York society events with his box at the MET and his support of motorsports incentives that had seen him take up a role as an FIA ambassador. But he had seemed to fade into the background - little by little until his absence was no longer noted.
“Papa is sick. Dementia,” Elise revealed, ripping off the bandage. “He has no memory of Selina. I took her to see him a few months ago and he thought she was me,” she confessed, a heaviness in her eyes as she thought back to that eventful afternoon, when the man she had once worshipped as an indestructible force called her daughter by her own name before asking who she was. Because that was an inevitability in itself. That someday her father - that unruly force of nature - would forget who she was.
“Sometimes I think…oh god, it’s horrible to even think about it. But it would be kinder for him to have died quickly of a heart attack or something instead of this,” she whispered, blinking back the tear that pooled at the corner of her eye.
“Like Baird did?” Gerri mused, though part of her knew that she never would have coped with seeing him attached up to machines. Being kept alive by tiny little wires and oxygen tanks. In the end, Baird died exactly how he wanted. Quickly. Almost too quickly, but there had been some mercy in that.
“Watching one parent slip away is hard enough, doing it a second time is,” Elise paused, not allowing herself to linger too long in the past. She had gone through enough in her late 20s caring for her mother. Doing it all twenty years later with her father was enough to break her heart all over again. She pressed her hand against her cheek, trying to cool the flushed skin there as she took a shaky breath. Elise’s phone beeped on the table and she turned it over, looking at the text from her driver.
“But for now, I’ve got to run to make sure there’s a company for your grandkids to inherit someday,” she announced, picking up her martini to down what little was left of it as she started to gather up her things. “Give Selina a kiss for me,” Gerri instructed, watching as her daughter-in-law smirked as she pushed her cat-eye sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Come by this week and give it to her yourself,” Elise teased, making a mental note to speak to her wife about calling her mother that evening.
“I’ve also heard your boyfriend gave her a nickname,” she added a moment later, opening her wallet to pull out a stack of bills to pay for their lunch with a generous tip. Gerri chuckled as she shook her head. “I did try and talk him out of it,” she insisted, though she had only half-heartedly tried. “At least he chose a vegetable Lily likes,” Elise concluded, thinking of how much her wife hated nicknames. “He’s good with her, Selina, I mean,” Gerri added as an afterthought, as though it was a little pearl she had been turning in her mind.
There was a melancholy to Gerri’s smile that broke Elise’s heart a little. Another lifetime. Another universe. Perhaps. Just perhaps. But not in this one where ‘ Ro’ would be the only thing a little child of Kellman blood would call him. But Elise had long ago learnt that all a family needed was two people who cared for each other. Blood meant very little, not when love was in the equation.
“Wait till she’s a teenager. I fear those two could probably pull off a bank heist,” Elise joked as she stood from her seat, giving Gerri’s shoulder a little squeeze. An assurance that somehow, in her own way, she understood. “My driver is here, I’ve got to dash,” she insisted, throwing her tote bag onto her shoulder as she leaned down to kiss her mother-in-law’s cheek. “Tell Roman I said hello,” Elise added, wondering if Roman Roy ever realised just how lucky he was or how much he had landed on his feet with Gerri Kellman.
“I will do,” Gerri smiled, looking up at the woman with a newfound appreciation. Elise might be older than Lily, but there was that old soul in her that she had seen within her daughter since a young age. “And Ger,” Elise stopped, a seriousness making its way into her voice. “I give Logan until Christmas. The Ides of March are coming,” she waited, watching as the realisation flashed across Gerri’s features, her eyes widening, jaw tightening.
There she was.
Lady Macbeth.
Across Manhattan, another lunch meeting was underway. Another Lady Macbeth sharpening her claws. Lily had opted to walk from the Conde Nast building to her lunch date with Natalia, a little grey folder tucked securely under her arm. The Italian restaurant was down one of the side-streets, off the beaten track of tourists but popular enough to be just the right level of busy to avoid a scene.
“Sabrina!” Natalia called across the restaurant, hand in the air as she tried to get the blonde’s attention when she stepped inside, the bell over her head ringing three times. “Natalia,” Lily smiled, walking across to greet the woman, giving her a hug before sliding into her seat across from her. “I’m so glad you invited me to lunch, I had so much fun the other night,” Natalia beamed, watching as the blonde took off her sunglasses, her demeanour changing as she straightened her back, crossing one stiletto heel over the other.
“Natalia, I’m afraid that I’ve got a confession,” Lily started, knowing that there was no point drawing this out. Not when she had Natalia cornered and especially not when she had the contents of that folder with her. “My name’s not Sabrina,” she revealed, pursing her lips as she watched the panic flash across Natalia’s face. “What?” she swallowed, feet hitting the ground as she leaned across the table.
“It’s Lily Ward, well Kellman -Ward. I believe you know my mother, Gerri Kellman, and her partner, Roman Roy,” Lily levelled with her, voice perfectly still as though simply commenting on a point of interest in the restaurant’s decor. “What type of fucking set up is this?” Natalia panicked, eyes looking around for the nearest escape route. That explained why she had thought the other woman looked so familiar.
Lily reached across the table to grab the woman’s wrist, holding her in place. There was an unexpected strength behind that grip, slender fingers pushing down against Natalia’s skin to get her to sit back down into her seat. “The only one that allows you to actually walk away with something from this shit show,” she warned, doing her best impression of her mother’s serious tone, the one she always reserved for Logan Roy’s most heinous crimes.
The brunette sat back down, as though a schoolgirl summoned to the headmistress’ office. A bird trapped in a gilded cage of her own making. Sitting at the poker table against a player with a royal flush.
“Natalia, you have an opportunity here. You can make an awful lot of money and a very, very connected ally. Don’t throw it all away for some false promises from a man who wants nothing more than to slip into your lingerie before he throws you $100 for the powder room,” Lily observed, folding her hands on top of the table, eyes fixed on the woman opposite her.
“Hugo wouldn’t –” Natalia feebly protested, though her words fell on silent ears. “Oh, you sweet summer child. Hugo would. He practically already has,” the blonde stopped her with a raised hand, not allowing Natalia to indulge in her delusional thoughts.
“Here’s my offer,” Lily announced, lifting the grey folder and setting it down onto the middle of the table. “And it’s the only one you’re going to get,” she insisted, watching as Natalia eyed the file suspiciously before snatching it towards herself.
At the front of the file was a cheque. Two million dollars.
“That’s a lot of zeroes,” Natalia breathed, heart beating slowly in her chest as she pondered whether it was a legitimate cheque. It certainly had the hallmarks of one. JPMorgan Chase - from the account of Mrs. Lily Kellman-Ward.
There was a blank copy of another NDA peeking out from behind it. One that Lily had seen fit to update to include any and all interactions with the Kellman family and Roman Roy. Best to cover all bases.
She reached out to take the brunette’s hand once more. “ Listen, Natalia, you want my advice? Fuck the men. Sign the NDA, take the cash and go off and do something with your life. Go to Monte Carlo and scam men out of their millions at the roulette table,” Lily proposed, catching the moment in time when Natalia took the leap of faith. When she made the decision that would change her life.
“Who said it had to be men?” she asked, eyes meeting Lily’s as she shrugged. Lily smirked, holding out her Montblanc pen, the gold coating gleaming in the warm light of the restaurant. The pen squeaked across the paper as Natalie put her signature over the dotted line, agreeing to fall silent. She slipped the cheque into the inside pocket of her tweed blazer, the plans already forming in her head of exactly what she would do with her new-found wealth.
“Perhaps you might call me up if you ever end up in the French Riviera,” Natalia suggested, eyeing the blonde up across the table. Lily laughed at that, leaning forward as she licked her lips. “I’ll make you a deal. You hustle yourself a yacht off Saint-Tropez and I’ll come visit,” she paused, one hand digging around for something in her handbag. “With my wife,” she added, retrieving the item she had been looking for. Out of the little Tiffany dustbag popped Lily’s engagement ring and wedding band, the two rings returning to their spot on her left hand.
“All the pretty ones are always taken,” Natalia sighed as she watched Lily hold her left hand outstretched in front of her to admire the clarity of the diamonds. “Well, I’m afraid I’m very taken,” Lily assured her, thinking of what her wife would make of this story when she recounted it to her over dinner that evening. “Oh, when you do get to Monte Carlo,” She paused, pushing her Celine sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, having no intention to actually stay for lunch. “Ask for Pierrette at the Hotel De Paris, and give her my name. She’ll look after you,” she instructed, standing up as she gathered her handbag and the grey folder, tucking it under her arm. “Pierrette. Got it,” Natalia nodded her head, wondering just how far the Kellman-Ward name could get in her Monte Carlo.
“Natalia,” Lily paused, one hand resting on the back of the chair she had just gotten up from. “Don’t ever let anyone own you. Your freedom is something no man can ever give you. Promise me you’ll never sign it away,” she paused, eyes fixed on the woman whom she had just handed over a life-changing amount of money to. If she used it well, there was no reason why Natalia couldn’t climb the social circles and find herself a very cosy little spot - without needing a sugar daddy, or a sugar mommy for that matter.
“I promise,” Natalia breathed, fingers gripping around the edge of the table. “Good luck, Natalia,” Lily offered, stepping forward to kiss the woman’s cheek, a little of her red rouge smudging onto her skin as she pulled away. “Au revoir, Lily,” Natalia whispered, watching as the blonde walked out of the restaurant, the door creaking shut as she left. Her eyes followed her through the window, tracking Lily until she disappeared down the street amongst the hustle and bustle of Manhattan.
Natalia made one stop on her way to the airport. A 10-minute layover in her apartment to grab her passport and her favourite dress. One outfit and an assortment of cosmetics and jewellery to start her new life. By the time she made it to the airport, Hugo and the events of the Ritz Carlton were a distant memory. But Natalia had decided she would call Lily when she got that yacht - after befriending Pierrette, of course.
By the time Roman had finally escaped his meeting with Frank and Karl, he was ready to go and bug Gerri for the rest of the afternoon - but she was still out when he went looking for her. That led to a rather lonesome lunch at his desk as he tried to make sense of the latest report that he was increasingly starting to think wasn’t worth the paper it had been printed on.
He looked up as he heard the familiar click-clack of red bottom heels coming towards him as his office door creaked open. “Job done,” Lily announced, dropping the folder down onto his desk before crossing her arms with an amused smirk on her face. “The daughter of the stone cold killer bitch lives up to her title then,” Roman acknowledged with a low whistle, picking up the folder before going straight to the NDA. And there it was. The signature he had failed to get that afternoon at the Ritz Carlton. “Well, thank you very much, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lily laughed with a mock bow as she fiddled with her sunglasses before hooking them onto the front of her blouse.
“Seriously, Lily. I wouldn’t have been able to do what you did,” Roman admitted, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. One problem out of the way, but one more waiting in the shadows to pounce. “Just another Kellman woman coming to your rescue,” Lily teased, glancing across the executive floor towards her mother’s empty office. “Seems I owe the Kellman women a lot,” Roman admitted, following her line of sight towards Gerri’s office.
Lily looked as though she had something to say, but her lips fell silent. Now wasn’t the time for that particular conversation - especially not in a building where even the walls had ears. “Everything okay?” Roman asked, switching his attention back to her as he picked up the grey folder, slipping it into his briefcase to put in Gerri’s safe when he got home.
“Yes, of course, I’ve just got to go pick my daughter up from school. But what is this I’ve heard about you calling her ‘ spud’?” Lily questioned, hands on her hips as she looked disapprovingly down her nose at him. “ It suits her. The kid’s a spud,” he shrugged, a smirk playing on the side of his lips as he thought of the little blonde haired girl.
There was something about Selina that he couldn’t put his finger on. Perhaps it was because she gave him a chance to see the world through rose-coloured glasses. A world untainted by white collar crime, corporation corruption, and the not-so-gentle hand of Logan Roy. Selina existed in a world relatively untainted by the chaos that had been his childhood. Raised in the arms of mothers who had more empathy in their hearts than every Roy put together.
And she had given him a chance to see another side of Gerri. A Gerri he had never seen before. Softer, natural, no longer biting her tongue or trying to fit a mould. A Gerri that was just as at home on the bedroom floor with her granddaughter and a record player as in the boardroom. The Gerri that existed behind the closed doors of the penthouse with her black and white movies and opera music. His Gerri.
“What are you going to call the next one? Broccoli?” Lily questioned, licking her lips as she folded her arms. “Rhubarb,” Roman deadpanned, part of him shocked by how he had seemingly found himself a little space to exist within Gerri’s world - within Gerri’s family. Perhaps there was an existence for him beyond being Roman Roy.
He was pulled out of his thoughts once more by the click clacking of Lily’s heels as she headed towards the door. “Well, tell my mother I said hello, when you see her,” Lily paused, digging around her cobalt blue Kelly bag for her phone. “Oh, Elise wants you both over for dinner in a few weeks. We’ll coordinate diaries or whatever,” she revealed, having never thought she would be coordinating family dinners with Roman Roy of all people, but here they were.
“Cool, sure, get someone to call Emily or Alice,” Roman instructed as he stood from his seat to walk Lily the rest of the way towards the door, rolling his eyes as she fixed the lapel of his blazer. “Let yourself celebrate this little win, Rome,” Lily whispered as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek before she stepped back, walking across the executive floor towards the elevators.
Roman leaned against the doorframe of his office, waiting for Lily to get into the elevator until he felt eyes watching him across the room. He looked back in time to see his father close the door to his office and head back inside, though the older man was still watching Lily through the glass partition as she got into the elevator. The blonde woman hadn’t seen him, that much Roman was sure of. But there was something in Logan’s eyes that set Roman’s teeth on edge.
The demons in the shadows were coming into the light.
It turned out that the report had not, in fact, been worth the paper it was printed on. It was after 9 pm before Roman made it back to the penthouse, having texted Gerri hours ago to have dinner without him. By the time he made it through the 16th floor of the apartment complex, he was ready to curl up on the sofa and pass out.
But it seemed someone had already beat him to it.
Gerri was laying along the length of the sofa, one Manolo heel crossed over the other on top of the armrest, her head pressed against a plush velvet cushion. “You’re late,” she remarked, glancing down at the time on her watch as Roman dumped his briefcase down next to her handbag on the kitchen island. He could put the NDA into the safe in the morning. “Ugh, fucking O’Brien messed up the numbers for the Vaulter expansion so I’ve spent the five hours with accounting trying to sort it,” Roman explained, undoing his tie and kicking off his Oxfords before he padded across the lounge towards her.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she asked, setting her phone down onto the coffee table as Roman groaned, shaking his head as he came to a stop by the sofa. It was times like this that Gerri thanked her past self for springing for the larger sofa. Roman managed to squeeze himself onto the empty space by her side, his chest against hers as he sprawled out on top of her. Gerri’s arm curled around his back, holding him in place against her.
“It’s all good now,” he mumbled against her breasts, content to use them as a cushion, one hand curled against her chest while the other traced the curve of her hips. “Be glad you don’t weigh very much,” Gerri tutted, her fingers massaging his scalp in small circular motions as she turned her hips to find a more comfortable position, the pair of them sinking into the velvet upholstery. “Just you wait till I start going back to the gym,” Roman protested, though his eyes were closed as he leaned into her touch. “That’ll make one of us,” she joked, ignoring the shiver that ran down her back as he arched his leg up and over hers, his right knee coming to rest just under the hem of her dress.
Gerri didn’t need a personal trainer now. Not with the amount of extra curricular activity she was getting in between the hours of 10pm and midnight these days. Perhaps that was how Roman was earning his keep - by helping her get back into her ‘90s archival Ralph Lauren dresses.
“What’s up?” Gerri asked, knowing by now that a silent Roman was rarely a good sign. “Nothing, I’m just…tired I guess, I don’t know,” he sighed, fingers spread out against Gerri’s stomach as he worked them back and forth slowly, content to simply lay there and ignore the stress and tribulations of the day. She twirled at one of the longer pieces of his hair, deciding she had to keep him talking before he’d fall asleep on top of her. While that was a common occurrence in bed, Gerri had no intention of spending the night asleep on her sofa in a face full of makeup and her work clothes.
“I heard Lily was in the office today,” she pointed out, running her knuckles across Roman’s cheek as she tried to keep him awake. “And I heard you took a younger woman out for lunch, should I be nervous, Ger-bear?” Roman mumbled against her chest once more, glancing up at her without moving his head.
Gerri nipped at his shoulder, getting an ‘ouch ’ in return. “What was that for?” he hissed with a shake of his head, tightening his grip on her as he turned closer into her. “I was catching up with my daughter-in-law, if you must know,” Gerri informed him, her mind once more going back to her earlier conversation with Elise. What exactly were they? Why was she still struggling to put a label on whatever…. this… was?
“You’re not going to switch sides on me, are you?” Roman teased, lifting himself up a little so that he could look at her face. “I like to keep my options open,” she shrugged with a devious gleam in her eye that told Roman there was at least a little truth behind that statement.
“Oh, we’ve been invited for dinner by the way at the spud’s house,” he announced, leaning on his elbow as he fidgeted with her gold pendant, turning the little bean between his fingertips. “We’re not bringing sushi, before you ask,” Gerri insisted, having already dealt with a string of text messages from her daughter complaining about Selina’s new obsession with sushi - and eating everything she possibly could with chopsticks. “Not my fault the kid has been asking for it,” Roman shrugged, reaching out to twirl his finger around that strand of blonde hair that always seemed to fall in her face.
It was then that he inhaled her perfume. The Tom Ford one in the little black and gold bottle that she kept tucked away on her vanity table. The one she saved for special occasions. “You know that you smell really fucking good, right?” he groaned, leaning down as he lowered his head to her neck, lips finding that curve where he liked to imagine she applied just a little extra perfume to just for him.
“Well, I re-did my makeup and everything thinking I was being wined and dined tonight,” she complained, leaning her head back against the armrest as she curved her neck, feeling the light stubble on his cheeks scratch against her skin as he laughed. “Must have been a real asshole to stand you up,” he groaned, biting down on the neck with just enough force to not leave a bruise.
“Uhm, I suppose he could always find a way to make it up to me,” Gerri pondered, voice level as she tried to stay still, to not give him the satisfaction of caving that easily. Roman placed his hands on either side of her head on the armrest as he moved on top of her, knees on either side of her legs as he looked down at the shift dress. No buttons for her to torment him with and no side slit for easy access. He’d have to go about it the old fashioned way.
“Couldn’t you have worn something a little easier to get out of?” he complained, sliding down the sofa as his hands found their way under the hem of her dress, going in search of her underwear. The red lace pair he had seen sitting out in her dressing room that morning. “It’s polite to take a lady out for dinner before you sleep with her, Rome,” Gerri reminded him with a pointed tone as his fingers looped around the band of her underwear as she lifted her hips to let him yank them down.
“Who said I wasn’t going to have dinner?” he questioned, getting between her legs as Gerri raised an eyebrow, leaning back on her elbows as she looked at him over her glasses. “How selfless of you,” she taunted, raising her left foot as she went to kick off her heels.
Roman straightened his back, reaching out as he gripped his hand around her ankle. “Oh no,” he stopped her, shaking his head as his voice took on a serious tone. “The Manolos stay on,” he insisted, slipping the back of her foot back into the stiletto.
And the Manolos stayed on. Even when the La Perla ended up over Roman’s shoulder and somewhere between the lounge and the kitchen island.
Friday
Friday mornings at Waystar were always slow. Half of the executive floor were inevitably nursing hangovers from the night before and the other half were working ‘remotely’ from home. Code for: “I’m fucking off early for the weekend and don’t even try to email me.” Emily had assumed that Friday would be like any of the other 262 other Fridays that she had spent working at Waystar Royco.
That was, until Nick Carter came walking out of the elevator at 11:05am. Well, more like storming out of it. Emily jumped out of her seat, making a beeline towards the man who had shown up at the Waystar office for the first time since the RECNY ball that had happened two weeks ago.
“Nick? What are you doing here?” Emily questioned, watching as the dark-haired man crossed the executive floor towards Roman’s office. “Not now, Ems,” he waved her away with his hand, though his eyes were scanning around for someone else. That familiar head of brown hair turned up in her signature French twist. That grounding force that made every bone in his body react. But she was nowhere to be seen.
“You wanted to see me,” Nick announced by way of greeting as he walked into Roman’s office, letting the door click shut behind him. Roman looked up from his laptop, shutting the screen as he leaned back on his seat. “Has Natalia spoken to Hugo?” he asked, knowing that the man had to know by now that the entertainer had to be paid off.
“If you can call sending him a picture from a helicopter over Nice ‘talking’ then yes,” Nick responded, hands in his pockets as he walked around Roman’s office, eyes fixed on looking at the view through the large floor to ceiling windows. “My kinda woman, how did he take it?” Roman asked, thinking of the signed NDA that was now safely locked away in the safe in Gerri’s apartment - and the two million dollars he had dutifully wired back to Lily the day before.
“Oh, he’s absolutely fucking fuming because without her he has no proof,” Nick replied, thinking of the screaming match he had listened to the night before when Hugo had called him with the ‘news’.
“So, what are we going to do now?” he asked, turning around to look at Roman as he thought of what else Hugo had said to him. “I’m trying to find some shit on Hugo, he needs to go but we’ll need an iron clad reason to fire him,” Roman explained, knowing they’d need something they could threaten to go legal with to make the man walk with a handsome enough severance package to keep his mouth shut.
“I know some people who might be able to help, I’ll see to it,” Nick offered, knowing it was the least he could. Even more so now that he couldn’t stop what was to happen next. “People?” Roman questioned, though he had long ago learnt that Nick seemed to have half of New York in his little black book. “My father went to the Logan Roy School of Parenting,” Nick reminded his boss as he fixed the lapel of his black trench coat, digging around his pockets for his phone as he made his way to the door.
“And Roman,” he said, pausing by the door as he turned to look at the older man. But he couldn’t tell him. What could Roman do? If a private investigator was watching the girls, any sign that they had been tipped off would blow his cover - and this would all have been for nothing. And this couldn’t be for nothing.
So once more, Nick Carter found his hands tied.
“This’ll be over sooner than you think,” Nick assured him, fingers curling around the door handle. As soon as he had the first pictures he’d take them to Roman. When he would be able to hand him the match that would light the first grenade that would set off a series of events that could only have one possible ending.
“I fucking hope so, Nick,” Roman agreed, watching as his second assistant opened the door to walk out, getting no further than a handful of steps before stopping dead in his tracks.
His eyes had found her this time, like Odysseus and Penelope, for the last two weeks may as well have been twenty years.
Nancy was sitting perched on the edge of Patrick O’Brien’s desk - the same way she used to sit on his desk. O’Brien was a big shot that had been transferred from the London office as the Deputy Head of Investor Relations. One of those cocky Dublin guys who used every inch of his lilting brogue to charm his way through shut doors - and closed legs.
Nick had clashed heads with him on more than one occasion.
And there was Nancy, flirting with the enemy. Lightly swinging her nude Prada pumps just above the ground as she faked a laugh at whatever joke Patrick had just whispered into her ear. But that was what Nick called her ‘polite, second assistant’ laugh - usually reserved for the Hugo and Gregs of the world.
She was putting on a show for his benefit. Nick could tell from the vantage point of Roman’s office door that she wasn’t wearing the bracelet. That ever present sparkle was missing from her wrist. Had she tossed it in the trash? The same way she had shrugged him off like last season’s Miu Miu flats.
“Nick,” Emily warned, stepping away from her desk to cross towards Roman’s office door to where Nick was standing. “What the fuck does she see in that guy?” he questioned in a hushed tone as Emily tried to get him to move, pulling at his arm.
O’Brien was a brute. And unlike O’Brien, Nancy meant more to him than just another name in his little black book. O’Brien would only ever see her as a pretty pair of legs with an inside track to the CEO.
“Exactly what you’re giving her,” Emily pointed out, seeing the steam that was practically rising out of his ears. “Oh, really?” Nick tutted, feeling his stomach turn as he heard Nancy laugh once more. “Our Nancy is smarter than you think,” Emily insisted, knowing that their friend’s interest in O’Brien had only started after the fallout of the RECNY ball. And anyone with eyes could see what Nancy was doing. “Who do you think she learnt it from?” she questioned pointedly, turning her head to nod towards the office opposite them as Gerri chose that moment to walk out onto the executive floor.
It was Gerri who had taught Nancy everything she knew. Gerri had taken a bright-eyed, bushy haired girl from the MidWest and shaped her into a force to be reckoned with - right down to the French twist she wore in her hair. And Nancy was doing exactly what she had seen Gerri do, right from the Kellman playbook.
“For what it’s worth, Nick, she’d always choose you, if you wanted her,” Emily whispered, her eyes trailing back over to where Nancy was sitting on top of O’Brien’s desk. “But I never get what I want,” he countered, feeling the bile beginning to rise at the back of his throat.
Nick had learnt at eight years old that money couldn’t buy you everything. Learned that all-important lesson as he watched his parents scream at the doctors as his big brother’s life support machine beep, beep, beeped. He could still hear it ringing in his ears, the beeping drowning out the sounds of his father’s demand for the best brain surgeon in New York, his threats to sue the hospital, his insistence that he’d move James to another hospital. Until it flatlined.
So no. Nick Carter never got what he wanted. But Nancy would be the greatest loss of them all. A lifetime of ‘what ifs’ and sentimental thoughts doomed to forever be a twinkle in those hazel eyes.
Gerri called Nancy over, ending the brunette’s conversation with the Irishman - and ending the spell of Nick.
“I was never here,” he cautioned, realising then that Nancy either hadn’t seen him or was deliberately avoiding making eye-contact with him. Emily went to speak, to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue. “Soon,” he silenced her, giving her arm a squeeze before making a beeline towards the elevator.
Emily stood in the middle of the executive floor, arms folded as she contemplated whether this was how military strategies felt before the first sirens sounded. Roman and Gerri. Nick and Nancy. The Kellmans. The Roys. The Wards. Waystar Royco. Even the deal with Matsson. All the lines blurring together.
The fault lines were creaking. The Earth shifted beneath their feet as a warning.
Sunday
By Sunday, Roman had tricked his brain into a false sense of security. Natalia had been dealt with, though his father had been suspiciously quiet. He shrugged it off as just the latest stage of Logan’s disapproval of his actions at the RECNY ball.
And the Saturday night had been spent refamiliarising himself with the contents of Gerri’s lingerie drawer. It turned out she had bought more than one set of La Perla as a ‘thank you’ gift for his enjoyment. The DeBeers necklace - in all its $500,000 glory - had made its own return that same evening.
So by the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Roman wasn’t thinking about much beyond his plans to take Gerri out for dinner. Sushi - as that had become part of their Sunday evening routine. Always the same table at the back of the restaurant he had taken her to after they got back from Italy. The one that had reminded him so much of their time in Japan.
He had ended up scrolling on his phone, somehow finding his way to the Google results for ‘best luxury resorts in Japan’, when Nick’s name flashed across the screen. “Nicholas, you better have a good reason to be interrupting my doom scrolling,” Roman greeted him, leaning back on the sofa. But he could tell that something was off even before Nick spoke.
“Roman, I need to talk to you. It’s serious. Can you meet me at the office?” Nick asked, the sound of traffic in the background made it seem as though he was walking through the streets. “No way am I going there on a Sunday. Swing by the penthouse. We can talk in the study,” Roman countered, eyes glancing across the lounge to where Gerri was in the kitchen. How was he going to do this without making her suspicious? There were only so many times he could shrug off her questions or misdirect them. “Right, I’ll be there in fifteen,” Nick agreed before hanging up the phone.
Fuck.
Roman threw his phone down onto the coffee table, sitting up on the sofa as he searched around for his loafers. “Nick’s coming over. He needs to talk about something,” he announced, finding his shoes under the sofa as he tried to straighten himself up.
“Still got Nancy problems?” Gerri asked from where she was perched on a stool on the other side of the kitchen island, her laptop open in front of her. “What even happened there anyway?” she mused, having not been told by either Roman or the assistants about what had happened between them. Telling Gerri the story would mean explaining the mess with Natalia and Roman wasn’t prepared to do that yet.
He caught himself before he told her the truth. “Course of true love never did run smooth and all that other bullshit, I guess. I don’t know, Nick can be a douchebag when he wants to be,” Roman shrugged, straightening up the cushions on the sofa before making his way towards the kitchen.
“Well, if I catch Nancy crying over him one more time I’ll be moving him down to the finance floor myself,” Gerri threatened as she closed down her laptop screen, putting the device back into its red leather case. “Can you do me - well Nick, I guess - a favour?” Roman asked, knowing that he owed Nick at least a small olive branch for everything he had done. “What is it?” she questioned, stepping down from the stool as she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
“Keep that O’Brien creep away from her. I’d rather not have to bail Nick out for GBH,” Roman pleaded, wondering if there was a certain inevitability to the pair eventually coming to blows with each other. “O’Brien… oh, is that a thing?” Gerri paused, lips parted as she felt the gears in her head slowly turning. That explained a lot - and she should have realised Nancy was about to rebound hard. She just wouldn’t have put Patrick O’Brien at the top of her list of potential suitors.
“I fear it could be,” Roman responded, leaning against the kitchen island as Gerri started to gather up her things. This mess needed to be sorted before anything could happen with O’Brien and Nancy - before Nick would be left with nothing to show for his sacrifice.
“Well, either way. You and Nick can use the study when he gets here. I’m going to run out and do some errands, so I’ll be away for an hour or so, we can head out for dinner as soon as I’m back,” Gerri explained, walking around him as she headed towards the master bedroom. “Do not let him into my liquor cabinet, Rome,” she called over her shoulder as she went.
Nick got to the penthouse five minutes after Fredrick pulled away from the complex with Gerri. The security guard at reception escorted him up to the penthouse, where Roman was standing waiting for him by the door. “You’ve been doing what we’ve discussed?” he asked, giving Nick the once over as he took in the man’s appearance. Nick must have been out on his motorcycle, if the leather jacket and all-black outfit was any indication. But the grey folder tucked under his arm raised alarm bells before Nick had even made it to the lounge.
“Sticking to Hugo like shit on a blanket,” Nick assured him as he walked further into the room. His shoulders were hunched, as if something was weighing him down. “What is he doing now?” Roman questioned, making his way towards the bar cart as he poured himself a neat whisky. He suspected he’d need something at least that strong to get through whatever news Nick was coming to deliver him.
“Roman, I…” Nick paused, looking down at the folder in his hands once more. “Nick, what is it?” Roman demanded, coming to a stop at the kitchen island as Nick walked towards him. The folder hit the table with more force than Roman had expected, making it clear that the contents were more than a few miscellaneous pages. He knew what it was as soon as it hit the marble.
It looked similar to the file that Lily had handed him in his office four days earlier, but this was something else entirely. Roman caught sight of the white label across the top of the folder. Kellman-Ward was written on the top in crisp Times New Roman font.
Shit.
Folders like that only meant one thing. His father had hired a private investigator. He had seen more than his fair share of them over the years, always at least one lingering around somewhere on his father’s desk.
He downed his whisky before snatching it from the counter. Roman opened it slowly, the sense of dread making him hunch his shoulders inward as he took in the first photo. Lily getting Selina into the backseat of their SUV, he could make out the cardigan of the little girl’s uniform and the bow in her hair that Gerri had given her.
The next dozen or so seemed to follow a similar sequence of events. They were all taken outside on side streets and around Selina’s school. A few of them showed Lily coming and going from the Conde Nast office with one of them even featuring Elise walking with her. Those photos had all been taken at a distance, out in public where anyone with a DSLR could have snapped those photos.
But it was the next photo - sitting half way through the stack of glossy A4 pictures - that scared him. The one that set his teeth on edge. That instantly caused alarm bells to start ringing in his ears.
It must have been taken with a long-angle lens as the subject was as far away as she had been in the earlier photos, but behind glass this time. Although Roman had never seen the room for himself, it was easy to ascertain what it was. Selina’s bedroom . The curtains were open along the French windows and he could make out the row of plush teddies on the bed. The little teddies he knew the names of.
But that wasn’t what concerned him most.
Selina was sitting by the window, at a little desk full of crayons and markers, seemingly colouring a picture without a care in the world. All by herself in her bedroom where she shouldn't have a care in the world. If a private investigator was willing to put his lens there, then any sense of safety and privacy was gone.
There were another dozen or so photographs stacked under that one. But Roman had already seen enough. Logan had found Gerri’s Achilles heel. The folder hit the table with a low bang, a few of the pictures sliding out.
“He’s a fucking monster, going after a kid,” Roman growled, making his way back towards the bar cart as he grabbed for the whisky bottle. “He wants to spook Gerri into resigning,” Nick explained, though he knew that he was starting the obvious. “The PI brought those photos to Hugo this afternoon, he wanted me to go into the office and plant them somewhere for Gerri to find,” he continued, sitting himself down onto one of the stools at the island counter.
“Nick, she…she loves that little girl. Fuck,” Roman stopped, his fingers trailing through his hair as he tried to breathe, feeling as if someone had just kicked him in the gut. “I can’t show her this,” he exclaimed, feeling as if the walls he had built around the penthouse were crumbling. Showing Gerri that folder was a one-way ticket to breaking up. A guarantee that she would give Logan exactly what he wanted and quit. His father had gone beyond the pale.
But this put everything into perspective. The hands of the clock ticked closer to midnight. They were down to the final hands in this card game. Nothing less than a royal flush would do. The ace, king, queen, jack, and ten - all neatly lined up together, ready to strike.
“We need to take out Hugo - and fast,” Nick offered, gathering up the photos that were spread out across the kitchen island, stacking them back into the folder. “What the fuck do we do about this though?” Roman questioned, eyes wide as he leaned back against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t tell Lily, that’ll only make things even worse,” Nick insisted with a shake of his head.
“How do you know?” Roman asked, finishing his second whisky before he washed out the glass, setting it off to the side. “I know the type. She’ll take that kid away and Gerri will never see her again,” Nick continued, knowing that it was up to him to talk Roman down and to put a plan in place.
Roman moved towards the kitchen island, glaring down at the folder as he shook his head. Nick was right. Showing Lily this would only confirm the fears that had led her to keeping Selina from her mother. And he couldn’t have that. Not now. Not when everything had been so close to falling into place.
“I need to see Elise then,” he decided, knowing he had an ally in Gerri’s daughter-in-law, and someone who had just as much to lose as he did. “If her reputation is true, Elise might be the very person that you need,” Nick agreed, the plan starting to take shape in his head as he tapped his fingers against the marble counter. “Oh?” Roman paused, wondering just how many people Nick knew in New York.
“She’s friends - I suppose - with my father,” Nick explained, before the lightbulb went off in his head as he thought of one of the last times he had seen the one - at a technology investment conference that his father had dragged him to 18 months earlier in Geneva. “But she’s also a friend of Matsson,” he added.
That was news to Roman. Though part of him knew it shouldn’t have been. Someone like Elise was the sort of woman who knew everyone that was worth knowing. Her little black book could probably rival that of Logan’s. But if she was friends with Matsson, that was an ace up their sleeve.
“Nick, I need you to find something on Hugo. Either we push him off the edge of…I don’t know, the fucking roof….or we find something to make him quit,” Roman instructed, suspecting that him and Elise could deal with Logan and Matsson, leaving Nick with Hugo to contend with.
“I doubt that’ll be a challenge, I’ll go into the office and see if I can find anything on the database while it’s quiet,” Nick agreed, getting up from the stool as he got ready to leave. The Waystar office would be virtually empty at this time on a Sunday with only the cleaning staff doing their daily checks.
“Nick,” Roman called, stopping his second assistant before the younger man could get to the door. “Nancy misses you. Even if she won’t admit it,” he offered, hoping that his words - as feeble as they were - could give him some sort of olive branch to hang onto. Nick shook his head determinedly. “No, she hates my guts now,” he stood firm, his mind going back to what he had witnessed at the office two days earlier. “She’ll see things differently when she knows the truth,” Roman insisted, having already decided he would do whatever he could to explain the situation to Nancy.
Nick shrugged his shoulders once more, looking around the penthouse as he thought about the woman who was the reason they were standing there. “Can you say the same about Gerri?” he countered, knowing that she couldn’t be kept in the dark forever. It was inevitable that she would find out about everything when the truth would be brought out into the harsh light of day.
Roman stopped, thinking for a moment about what Gerri would do when she found out the truth. Found that he had kept the blackmailing from her, that he had spoken to Matsson on more than one occasion about keeping as CEO, and now the fact that he knew about the private investigator.
“I fucking hope so,” he concluded, knowing that this had to come to an end soon. She could know then - when it was all said and done. When the shadows no longer held any demons and when there would be no more lies.
Gerri arrived back almost an hour later, the jingling of her keys alerting Roman to her return. The folder Nick had delivered was now tucked away in the safe, next to the one Lily had given him four days earlier. He looked up as she walked into the lounge, a Sephora bag in one hand and two MaxMara bags in the other.
“I didn’t realise running errands included a stop at MaxMara,” he observed, elbows pressing down onto his thighs as he sat at the edge of the sofa. Gerri rolled her eyes, setting the shopping bags down onto the armchair across from him. “Well, you were talking about going to Aspen over the holidays and I would need a new coat for that,” she explained, well aware of the fact there was an entire section of her closet dedicated to outerwear. “Two bags though,” Roman pointed out, though his smile was strained as he tried not to think about the photographs.
“Okay, I may have bought the same one in Selina’s size, I was thinking we could invite them to come with us to Aspen, and she’ll need a coat,” she reasoned, digging through the tissue paper in the smaller of the two bags. “See,” she said, waiting for Roman to turn around to look at her. Gerri held up the little coat with its camel hair and tiny pockets - but the sight of it was like another punch in the gut. Roman felt a ringing in his ear, almost like radio static, as Gerri continued talking, her voice drowned out by the noise.
“Is everything okay, Rome?” Gerri asked, suddenly by his side at the foot of the sofa as she looked down at him, the concern evident in her voice. “Yeah, yeah, spiffingly well, why wouldn’t it be?” he assured her, standing from the sofa as he reached out to take her hand in his. Her fingers still cold from being outside, shivering as he rubbed them between his hands.
“Roman, what’s going on?” she asked with more urgency this time. He had that look on his face that always reminded her of a puppy that had just been kicked. As if he might go off whimpering into the shadows somewhere. “You and me, we’re good, aren’t we?” Roman questioned, his voice shaking a little as he tightened his grip on her hand.
The question caught her off-guard. Something had happened. What had Nick come to talk to him about? A dozen different possibilities started eating away at her as she stepped forward, her free hand coming to cup his cheek. “Of course, we are,” she promised him, the wind almost being taken out of her as he launched himself towards her, pulling her into his arms.
“This will all be over soon, this mess with my Dad, Ger, I know it will be,” Roman muttered into her hair, trying not to close his eyes for fear of seeing those photos again. For fear of thinking of all the lies he had told her. Nick’s words were coming back to haunt him.
Would Gerri understand? Would she see things differently when she learnt the truth?
“I’m so sorry,” he added, voice breaking a little as he pressed his forehead down against her shoulder. “What are you apologising for?” she asked, startled as she felt his weight pressing down on her. “Rome,” Gerri pulled back, her hands on his cheeks as she cupped his face. “What’s happened?” she questioned once more, looking into his eyes as she tried to put the pieces together.
“I just know...how much you have to lose now, because of me, sometimes I don’t think I’m worth it all,” Roman admitted, the whisky having worn off by now as he started to see things ever clearer than he had done before.
Gerri had so much to lose. Lily. Maddie. Selina. Her career. Everything that existed outside the relative safety of the penthouse. Perhaps even everything inside of it as well.
“Roman, you’re worrying me now, what’s happened?” she pleaded, wondering if she had to call Nick to get the information directly from him. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” Roman insisted, his voice a little stronger now as he reached out to touch his arm.
Time to pull yourself together, Rome.
“Promise?” Gerri asked.
“Promise,” Roman answered.
Part of Gerri wanted to say that she didn’t believe him. That she had seen his eye twitch. That it was obvious he was lying to her. That he couldn’t keep secrets from her anymore. But another voice in her head told Gerri to let him lie. Just this once. To walk out of the penthouse with him and act as if nothing had happened. But something had happened.
“Are you ready to go out for dinner?” Roman asked, his hand trailing around to her back as he moved them towards the door. “Yeah, Fredrick’s waiting on us, let’s go,” Gerri paused, picking up her handbag and letting him take it from her before they headed out of the penthouse.
But not even sushi and martinis could disguise the fact that something had happened.
Nick had been right that Waystar was practically abandoned. He had only seen the front desk security and one cleaner on his way up to the executive floor. Roman’s log-in on the company wifi meant that he could access the personnel files and most of the cloud drives that were labelled “ confidential.” He had been working through them at his desk when he heard the elevator doors ping open across the way.
Of all the Waystar employees to find him, it had to be her.
“What are you doing here?” Nick questioned, jumping up from his desk as he slammed down the screen of his laptop. “I needed to pick up the shoes I left here the other week,” Nancy explained, folding her arms as she narrowed her eyes, looking at him suspiciously. “Oh, what for?” Nick demanded, moving himself in front of the computer as Nancy walked around him to pick up the red Mary Janes that had been tucked under her desk.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going out for dinner,” she answered, walking back around him to stop near Gerri’s desk.
Nick didn’t have to ask with whom. Not when Nancy was dressed like that. He had never seen that dress before and while Nick Carter didn’t pay attention to many things, he always noticed what Nancy was wearing. And that was new. All of it from the gold snake ring on her middle finger to the red square neck dress with its pleated skirt and the oversized bow he could just make out from behind the curve of her hips.
At least she wasn’t wearing the bracelet. That would have been a slap across the face. To watch her being wined and dined by a man as brutish as O’Brien while wearing the diamonds he had bought her.
“Nick, you’ve not been here for weeks and you’re never here on a Sunday. What’s happened? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked, knowing that he couldn’t lie to her - not to her face at least. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” he shrugged.
“Promise?” Nancy asked.
“Promise,” Nick answered.
Not that his promises meant much to Nancy these days.
“Fine,” she snarled, pursing her lips together as she put her heels into the cotton tote bag that she was carrying. Nick knew that look well. The stern glare of the Goddess, learnt at the altar of her mistress. And it hurt like a bitch.
“Tell O’Brien I said hello,” Nick growled as she turned to leave. Nancy’s heels screeched to a stop as she looked back at him, eyes narrowing as she shook her head. “Fuck you, Nicholas,” Nancy taunted, taking a step closer to him now as she sharpened the knife. “You know, I don’t know why the fuck you think you get to stand there and have an opinion on my life,” she paused, her mind taking her back to that night at the Ritz-Carlton when it had all fallen apart. “The sooner you’re out of here, the better, Nick. I thought you were different, but oh no, you’re just like every other fucked up rich kid. You make Kendall look sane,” she jeered at him.
“Nancy…” Nick tried, stepping forward to close the distance between them, his hand reaching for hers. “Don’t. Don’t. You don’t get to touch me now,” she shouted, stepping back from him.
That fragile line between them had been shattered. The thread between them snapped in half. The chain was broken.
Nancy left as quickly as she came, disappearing back into the same elevator she had taken up. Nicholas waited until the elevator had started its descent before he picked up the glass paperweight from Emily’s desk. It shattered the second it hit the dark grey wall next to Roman’s office. Shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Each as sharp as Nancy’s snarl had been.
He opened the top drawer of the nearest desk in search of something to clean up the shards with. It was only when he saw the contents that he realised it was Nancy’s desk.
Right there - amongst the perfume vials and the paper clips - was the diamond bracelet he had bought her. That cut sharper than the broken glass.
Roman waited until later that night when Gerri was asleep, hours after they had gotten back from dinner. When she was passed out next to him the bed that had become theirs. Her head resting on the silk pillow that smelt of her Tom Ford perfume and the jasmine shampoo she always used. Scents he now associated with home - associated with her. He watched her sleep for a minute, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept on her side next to him.
He opened his text thread with Elise. They had messaged each other a little back and forth - mainly about Gerri and Lily, but the last message Elise had sent him was a photo of Gerri and Selina. The girl was wearing a black fur hat, one that he guessed had once belonged to Lily as it was too big for her head. Gerri was crouched down next to her, laughing at Selina as she tried to balance the hat properly on the girl’s head.
Meet me at Gerri’s at 11am tomorrow. Come alone. We have a problem.
But Roman knew he had another chess piece to put into position.
The next text thread he opened was the one with Matsson. Nothing more than a few pleasantries back and forth, follow-ups from emails between their teams. Yet, if Elise was friends with Matsson, that was a relationship he could exploit.
We need a call this week. New terms.
Roman had made his bed. It was time to lie in it.
Even if it meant choosing sides - once and for all.
Notes:
If you've made it through this chapter, I love you. I've also got a request. I have a little wiggle room in the next chapter, so if there's anything *you* have wanted to see in this fic, now is the time to request it. (Yes, Robin, if you're reading this, the next chapter will be Roman/Gerri heavy!)
I'm hoping to get the next two chapters up before the end of the month with the epilogue chapter dropping closer to Christmas.
Chapter 23: The Secrets We Keep
Notes:
This is an obnoxiously long chapter I'm sorry BUT it sets us up for the final chapter and epilogue with a very heavy dose of domestic Roman and Gerri. There's a few Easter eggs in this chapter that I know a few of you will 100% spot - if not, you'll find the answer in the end note.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roman’s phone alarm buzzed on the bedside table. The beeping echoed around the room as the phone vibrated from side to side, shaking the pill bottles next to it.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Yet Roman didn’t move. His eyes were firmly shut as he curved himself into the middle of the bed, one arm flung over Gerri’s hip and the other tangled somewhere under her and above the sheets.
Sometimes you know that a Monday is going to be a shitshow before you even open your eyes. Today was one of those Mondays. So Roman decided he simply wasn’t going to open his eyes.
But that wasn’t going to fly with the occupant of the other side of the bed.
“Are you going to knock that fucking thing off or do I have to kick you out of bed?” Gerri grumbled into her pillow, folding one side of it against her ear. Roman usually got to his phone within the first few beeps of the alarm, but evidently not today.
“I don’t want to go,” he complained, shaking his head as he turned over in the bed until he was face down on the pillow. “Can’t we just take a sick day again?” Roman mumbled into the silk pillowcase, one arm pulling her closer to him as he gave his best impression of an incorrigible toddler.
“Roman, turn your alarm off before it gives me a headache,” Gerri insisted, pushing herself away from him as an incentive to move. He groaned as he reluctantly took his hand away from its spot on the curve of her hip, reaching back to grab his phone and knock off the alarm.
He threw the now silent phone to the other foot of the bed, not caring whether it landed on the duvet or the floor. “Happy now? Can we call in that sick day now?” Roman questioned, turning over to rest on his side as he looked up at her. “Do you want your father to come here looking for us?” she reminded him, confident that Logan would have broken down the front door of the penthouse to get them out of bed.
“Good point,” he reluctantly agreed. It was the only flaw in an otherwise spotless plan. If they stayed here - within the safety of the penthouse - he wouldn’t have to face reality. Wouldn’t have to go into the dark cloud that was Waystar Royco. Wouldn’t have to tell Elise what his father had done. Wouldn’t have to keep lying to Gerri.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you? Even just to cancel your 9am?” He tempted, moving to bury his head into the crook of her neck as his hands slipped under the cover.
But Gerri was too sensible for that. Too much of a goody two shoes who couldn’t be late to the office. Not when there was an example to set for the rest of the executive floor as CEO - and not less than two weeks out from the merger being signed.
Gerri’s hand rested flat against his chest as she pushed him back, arching her back to look up at him. “Go and shower, you stink,” she scolded, turning up her nose as she moved her head away, rolling over to grab her phone from the nightstand on her side.
“Not my fault you woke me up for round three,” Roman protested, though he did turn up his own nose when he realised that Gerri was, as usual, correct. “Shower, now,” she instructed, leaning back on her elbows as she propped herself up, one hand scrolling through the notifications on her phone.
It was the usual stack of work-related messages, from Alice sending her over her schedule for the day to a press release to sign off on for Karolina.
But in between those notifications were a few messages from Maddie and Lily. One of them was a picture of Madeline in her hiking gear, posing with a snake - no context, of course, because Maddie never put context on photos that threatened to give Gerri an aneurysm. Her youngest daughter. The great explorer, born without a fear in her body to a mother rattled with anxiety at the world around them.
Another was a series of text messages from Lily, covering everything from a save the date for Selina’s Christmas recital to a picture of the four-year old wearing what appeared to be one of Lily’s jumpers like a dress in the middle of her mother’s closet.
It was different to wake up to more than just work emails. They were no longer the reason why she reached for her phone first thing in the morning. Now it was always to message the girls. Perhaps that’s how it should have been all along.
Gerri waited until she heard the water starting to run, the first time she noticed that Roman had left her side, before reluctantly dragging herself out of bed.
This was the start of the fortnight that would determine the rest of their lives. Everything hinged on the merger with GoJo. What Matsson would do was anyone’s guest. But Gerri could feel it in the air. Everything was about to change.
For better or worse.
Thirty minutes later.
Roman had just come back from leaving Horus his breakfast and changing in the guest room. “Am I ever going to get a drawer in your closet?” he asked as he stepped back into the master bedroom, socks in one hand and his Oxfords in the other.
His eyes were fixed on Gerri’s reflection in the antique gold that sat on top of her vanity. It was the sort of mirror he could imagine had once gazed upon the likes of Joan Crawford or Rita Hayworth. Yet here it was in the corner of Gerri’s master bedroom - like a time capsule to a bygone era, but that one he could so vividly imagine Gerri in.
“I designed every inch of that closet, thank you very much,” she pointed out, eyes focused on the mirror as her fingers adjusted the pins into the back of her hair. This week called for a French twist, a pulled-together look to give the illusion of the graceful swan, floating on top of the surface. Gerri had long ago learned that the right outfit could hide even the most anxious thoughts. Just like the swan kicking madly under the water.
“How about I just buy you a new closet?” he offered, as though the solution was as simple as knocking down a few walls and adding extra shelves. Gerri gave him that look over her glasses that told him to stop getting ahead of himself. It was the same look she had given him at 3am when he had woken her up for round four.
Roman sat himself down on the edge of the bed, across from where Gerri’s vanity table was.
This had become part of their routine. Those few minutes in the morning when he’d slow down and pretend to do something while watching Gerri getting ready. There was something fascinating about watching her do her hair and flick through the rows of gold lipsticks as if she wasn’t inevitably going to choose the same shade as she always did. Besame’s ‘Dusty Rose’.
This felt intimate.
Perhaps it was one of the most intimate moments of their day. When they’d be going about their routines, simply co-existing in each other’s spaces. He’d hand her the hairspray bottle and find the hair pins she’d inevitably leave behind her like a trail every night. And she’d choose his shirt for him, fix the collar he always seemed to mess up, and tell him off when he’d overdo it with his cologne.
“Take a picture, Rome, it’ll last longer,” Gerri called over her shoulder, one hand holding a Mason Pearson hairbrush while the other tried to smooth the flyaways at her hairline.
“Can’t a guy watch his girlfriend getting ready in the morning?” he asked, wiggling his toes before slipping on his socks, still sitting at the end of the bed. Gerri had it on the tip of her tongue to correct him. To once again say that well rehearsed line of “I’m not your girlfriend, Roman”. But wasn’t that what she was? At the very least.
“Well, make yourself useful and hand me over the hairspray. It’s by the dresser on my side,” she instructed, nodding her head towards the oak wood dressing table on the right hand side of the bed. Roman pulled at the top of his black socks before getting up from the bed to retrieve the hairspray, handing it over to her. “Anything interesting happen while I was getting ready?” he asked, doing up the laces of his oxfords.
“I was just texting with Maddie,” Gerri revealed as she got up from the vanity table, moving towards the bathroom before she started to attack her French Twist with hairspray. “Is she still climbing mountains with the Euro?” Roman quipped, once again thinking of the look on the blonde man’s face when he had assumed it was Lily he was dating and not Gerri.
“His name is Erik, Rome,” she corrected him as she shook the bottle of Elnett before spraying again, shielding her glasses with her free hand. “Alright, the Euro called Erik,” Roman conceded, standing up from the bed as he finished lacing up his shoes. “She’ll be back at the end of next week for a few days before they go back to Europe,” Gerr explained, holding out the hairspray bottle towards him as she returned to the vanity to grab her lipstick and the makeup bag that stayed in her work tote.
“Could always hitch a lift back to Europe with Matsson,” Roman suggested as he popped the hairspray back onto its usual spot on the dresser. Gerri paused at the mention of Matsson, flicking the lipstick tube between her fingers, pulling and pushing the lid back into place.
“How are you feeling about all…well, all that?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she stepped into her heels. As if this was a conversation about something as mundane as the weather. And not about the deal that would determine the future of their professional ( and perhaps, personal) lives.
“At this stage, Ger, I just want it fucking done with,” Roman acknowledged, shrugging into the blazer Gerri had left out on the bed for him. “Matsson’s still due to fly in next Friday, right?” she questioned, picking up her work tote as she made her way towards the door, Roman following out behind her.
“Should be signing the paperwork at 3pm, so he can turn right around and get straight back onto his PJ,” he answered, shutting the bedroom door as Gerri made her way into the lounge.
“It’s almost over. At least,” she pointed out, knowing it was the only comfort she could take from the situation. In two weeks she’d either be walking back into the building as the CEO of Waystar-GoJo or she’d be twiddling her thumbs with nothing to do.
“How are you feeling about it?” Roman paused, watching Gerri as she shrugged her shoulders, leaning against the island counter in the kitchen. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking. About a lot of things,” she confessed, tucking her lipstick inside her bag as she fidgeted with rearranging the folders inside, avoiding making eye contact with him.
“Like?” he prodded, thinking back to the conversations he had with Elise and Lily. Everything felt like it was at a turning point. One final, impossibly high, hurdle to jump over. Then it would be over.
“Whether this is all really worth it anymore. Where all of us are going to be once the deal is done. There’s no guarantee that Matsson will want me to stay on in any sort of capacity. And I’ve worked at Waystar my entire career. It’s a bit like saying goodbye to an old friend, I guess,” Gerri explained with a slight shrug of her shoulders. An old friend who enjoyed torturing you at 2am with international trade deals and corporate scandals before enticing you back with a big fat bonus at the end of the fiscal year.
But what would her life look like without Waystar in it? She had been stuck in this circus since she was 23 years old. As toxic as it had been, Gerri didn’t know anything else. Her entire professional career had been built at that company. ‘A lifetime appointment’ was what Baird had called her. That was code for someone who would probably die at their desk and never cash out their pension plan. Just like what happened to Baird.
“We’ll just…let the cards fall as they will, I guess,” Gerri offered, forcing her mind back to the present as she looked up at him across the counter. The only background noise was the dishwasher whirling behind her. It gave the scene a certain domesticity that still caught her off guard - even now, months after Roman first ‘ stayed over’ at her apartment.
“You seem a lot more relaxed about this than I was expecting,” Roman observed, leaning against the counter as he watched her.
He knew she wouldn’t be if she knew the truth. If she knew what Matsson had said to him in Norway. If she knew about what Hugo had tried to do, how he still had to wrap that up. But the kicker would have been what his own father had done. That would have pushed her over the edge.
“I guess Waystar just isn’t the centre of my universe anymore,” Gerri admitted, swallowing back the lump in her throat as she put that confession out into the world.
The centre of that universe existed within the very room they were standing in. It stretched from the 16th-story penthouse to the townhouse with a view of the stars over New York. That was the centre of her universe now - and not the corner office that felt like a glass cage.
Roman opened his mouth but the words didn’t come out.
What was he meant to say to that? Because everything - at least for the next two weeks - would be determined by Waystar. It was something they were chained to. There was no escaping it. An impossible inevitability. Waystar would either trap them or free them.
“We better get going. I’ve got a 9am with Karolina to go over the media grid for this week,” Gerri declared, checking the time on her watch as she scooped up her tote bag and headed towards the front door.
“Sweet-talking Wall Street for the deal?” Roman asked as he followed her, helping Gerri into her trench coat before following her out of the apartment.
“Something like that. I think they want me on Bloomberg tomorrow to discuss ‘speculation’ around the closing date of the deal,” she explained, pressing the button for the elevator as she leaned back on her heels. “Ugh, Bloomberg,” Roman cringed, preferring to watch paint dry rather than sitting through a Bloomberg segment.
“I’ll wear something you like, make it easier for you to watch,” Gerri smirked, stepping into the elevator as the doors opened. “Tell me what you’re wearing underneath and it’ll be even easier,” he baited, sliding in next to her as the doors shut. He narrowly avoided the hand that had darted out to pinch him for that particular remark.
“Freddie’s downstairs already,” Roman announced as the elevator continued to ping with each floor they travelled past on their way down to the lobby. “You need to give that man a vacation,” Gerri reminded him as she checked her hair in the glass panels that ran across the sides of the elevators. “He can have one when we go to Aspen,” he decided, knowing that he wouldn’t trust anyone else to drive them in New York other than Fredrick. The chauffeur was one of the few people he actually trusted in the city.
And like the faithful servant that he was, Fredrick had the car sitting waiting for them outside the apartment complex.
“I grabbed the coffee order you sent through on the way,” Fredrick announced as he greeted them by the side of the car. “What coffee order?” Gerri asked as Fredrick opened the door, revealing the two takeout coffee cups in the drinks holder between the seats. “I asked for an IV but Google said these were the next best thing,” Roman explained as Fredrick slipped back into the driver's seat.
Gerri turned around to look at him, a smile playing on her lips. “You didn’t get them to substitute the coffee with a martini, did you?” she asked, one hand on her hip as she eyed him suspiciously. “You wish, now, move your ass, Kellman, you’re holding up traffic,” Roman pointed out, hurrying her into the car.
His phone beeped as he shut Gerri’s door, walking around the back of the car to the other side. Lily’s name flashed across the screen.
The text message simply read: I might have a solution for your Hugo problem.
The back and forth between the two lasted for most of the journey to the Waystar Royco office. By the time Roman and Gerri stepped into the elevator, he had agreed with Lily to look at her “ solution” that weekend when they were over for dinner. Hugo could wait until then.
For now, Roman had bigger fish to fry. But the coffee on the drive over meant he felt at least a little more human - until Elise Ward would show up and set everything into a whirlwind again.
It was after 1pm before Elise made it to the executive floor of the Waystar Royco building. Emily escorted her up from reception during the usual Monday lunchtime lull when the office was relatively quiet. A small mercy that meant Elise was able to make a beeline for Roman’s office without being spotted.
“Sorry, I ended up getting called into a meeting with the London office,” she explained, clearly annoyed to have been running behind schedule. Elise glanced around his office, taking in its bare walls and minimalistic interior. While her own office was littered with trinkets and family pictures, Roman’s looked as though he had just moved into it. Even the pens in the pot in the corner of his desk were all Waystar Royco branded. Elise imagined the office was as cold and impersonal as Roman’s childhood home.
“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged it off, glancing across to Gerri’s empty office. She had left twenty minutes earlier for a meeting with accounting to discuss potential severance packages for after the GoJo deal was confirmed. The last thing he needed was for Gerri to know her daughter-in-law was in the building.
“Let’s go find somewhere to talk,” he suggested, pocketing his phone from the table and picking up the grey folder next to it. The same one Nick had delivered to him the day before. “We can’t talk here?” Elise asked, looking around his office as if expecting an audience to be hiding around a corner somewhere watching them. But there was something about the way Roman was standing that made him look particularly paranoid, as if something was wrapped around his neck, making him look over his shoulder.
Roman had it on the tip of his tongue to warn her about the risk of witnesses. That she wouldn’t want an audience for what was to happen next. Elise wouldn’t take it well. He knew the woman well enough by now to know that much. To know that it was only marginally better to be telling her instead of Lily. But he was betting on her better judgement.
“Bit more private down the hall, no glass boxes,” Roman responded, leading the way out the door and down the hallway, glancing around to make sure they weren’t being watched. He deliberately chose the one conference room in the building that was sound proofed - just in case. “I’ve booked this one out for us,” he explained, side stepping out of the way to let Elise through first.
“I’m not sure what you have to tell me that couldn’t have waited until Saturday. You and Gerri are still coming for dinner on Saturday, right? It’s all Selina would talk about this morning,” Elise questioned, walking around the conference table in the middle of the room to take one of the grey seats at the centre, setting her Birkin and two iPhones down next to her.
“Of course, we are. Couldn’t let Spud down, now could we?” he assured her as he stepped into the room. Roman stopped long enough to lock the door, checking the handle to double-check that it had shut properly. He had already seen to it that Emily had shut the blinds, so no one would know who was meeting inside if curiosity got the better of them.
“You have to promise me something,” Roman started, crossing the room to take the seat opposite Elise. Judas coming to the chief priests for his thirty pieces of silver. He fidgeted with the corner fold of the silver file, unable to meet her eyes. This felt wrong. Was he really going to sell his father out? To a woman like Elise? With all her connections, money, influence….all that feminine rage cursing through her veins.
But Gerri.
It was for Gerri.
He uttered her name in the back of his mind as though it was a silent prayer. The sinner entering the confessional with the name of his saviour on his lips.
“Roman, what’s happened?” Elise asked, an urgency to her voice as she sat up a little straighter, leaning forward on her seat. “Just don’t…I don’t know….kill him with your pointy shoes or something,” he warned apprehensively, having a vision in his mind of Elise gouging his father’s eyes out with her stilettos as if he was King Lear.
That was enough to set Elise’s teeth on edge. “Roman, why do I feel like the ‘him’ in question is your father?” she questioned, eyes wide as her heart started pounding in her ears. “Because it tends to be,” Roman mumbled, before pushing the folder down into the centre of the conference table, the private investigator’s label sitting face up. Kellman-Ward.
Elise knew what it was, but she asked anyway.
“What the fuck is this?” She demanded with a sharpness to her voice that reminded Roman of the matronly teachers he had the one semester he spent at private school in England. “My dad trying to spook Ger into resigning….well, I’m assuming that’s the purpose of it. I got that folder given to me yesterday,” he explained, watching as Elise snatched the folder towards her, the first two photos falling out and straight onto the table. From this angle, he could see the similarities in Lily’s face with Gerri. If he squinted his eyes just enough, the blonde in the picture became Gerri - but it had been Gerri not long ago, when his father had first started spying on them.
Elise stopped at the same photo Roman had. Selina from her bedroom window. He didn’t have to watch her to know that. He could tell by the way her breathing changed. It was quicker now, as though fighting back against something. When he finally looked at her, there was a tension in her body that hadn’t been there before.
“I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him,” Elise cried, slapping the folder back down onto the table, face up on the photograph of Selina in her bedroom. “He does not come after my wife and child, Roman, that’s where I draw the fucking line,” she screeched, the legs of her chair squeaking as she pushed it back from the table.
If looks could kill, Elise Ward would have been on a warpath. Roman was glad the room was soundproofed and the door was locked. Her hands were shaking, as though seeking a neck to wrap themselves around. She’d have snapped Logan Roy’s neck in half given the chance. Roman had no doubt of that.
“He’s the man Gerri’s been working with for thirty years. Baird was one of his best friends and he still does this,” Elise yelled, pacing the length of the conference room, hands on her hips as she shook her head, her words falling over each other. “To her daughter? To Baird’s granddaughter? Oh, he really is the fucking devil incarnate,” she paused, hands gripping at the back of her chair as she stopped in front of him once more.
Roman watched as her knuckles went white, the colour draining from them as he wondered if she was picturing those fingers wrapped around his father’s neck.
“I know,” Roman acknowledged in a small voice, feeling himself sink back into his chair. “And he’s your fucking father, Roman,” she added pointedly, eyes fixed on him now as she leaned forward across the back of the chair.
“Look, Elise, we will find a way to stop this. I’m happy to pay for security…” Roman tried to offer, but Elise practically showed her teeth at the very idea of that. Yet it was the only thing he could offer for her. The only olive branch he had. What else could he do? Confront his father? Call him a coward to his father? That would have only made things worse.
But wasn’t he the coward?
“I have more fucking money than you, Roman. I don’t need the Roys to protect my family,” Elise growled, knuckles going white as she shook her head, the colour draining from her face.
Unlike with the Roys, the Ward estate wouldn’t be split between siblings. Elise was an only child and had already taken over most of the estate, and its assets, when her father was taken into a care home.
So, Elise Ward could probably afford to hire a small army to protect her daughter if the need arose. If Logan wanted to play dirty, she had no problem going down to his level.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Roman murmured, fingers anxiously tapping against the wooden conference desk. He knew there was nothing he could do to make the situation right. Nothing that would bring back the feeling of safety and tranquillity that his father had taken from them. Nothing that would correct his father’s demeaned behaviour.
Elise seemed to take his apology as a genuine one. There was a pause, long enough for her to compose herself, pushing her hair out of her face as she breathed deeply.
“I know you care, Roman, about Lily and Selina, but this man almost destroyed my father and him going after my family isn’t just about attacking Gerri. It’s settling old scores with everyone - the living and the dead,” she reminded him.
Logan was getting off one last shot at Baird, at Elise’s father, at everyone who had chosen the Wards or the Kellmans over him. Including, and perhaps most importantly of them all, his youngest son. That was he had gone for their mutual Achilles’ heel. The only weakness in an otherwise impregnable armour.
Little Selina.
“I brought this to you because I don’t…I don’t want my father taking Lily and Selina from Gerri, not again,” Roman confessed, thinking back to the night after Gerri had first found out about the girl. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear her crying, struggling to breathe as she tried to fight back against the rising panic in her chest. And then the first time he had seen them together. Gerri with Selina in her arms as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Gerri and her little star, its impossible brightness almost blinding in its brilliance.
“I don’t want her losing shit because of me, especially not them,” he swallowed, picking at the skin around his knuckles as he looked away.
Roman would rather give himself up and lose Gerri than make her sacrifice another day with her family. But Gerri had lost enough to Waystar, lost enough to Logan Roy.
He listened as the chair across from him squeaked as Elise sat back down. Roman looked up as Elise pulled the folder back towards her, the pictures looking up at her. “If Lily saw these...Jesus Christ, she’d be on the first flight out with Selina,” she whispered, eyes wide and her voice with a newfound heaviness that told Roman his suspicions had been right. Elise’s attention was focused on the picture of Selina by the window.
Her fingertips traced over the girl’s face in the pictures, before her eyes switched to another photograph further along the table of Lily and Selina walking hand-in-hand out of the girl’s school.
“But she has to know,” Elise whispered, eyes still fixed on her wife’s face. She could tell by Lily’s outfit that those photos had only been taken a few days earlier. “We don’t keep secrets from each other,” she added, her chin quivering as she felt something tighten around her chest, perhaps it was her heart strings being pulled.
“Not now, surely?” Roman panicked, sitting up straighter in his chair as he tried to plead his case. “ If we tell Lily, we’re only going to give him what he wants. Do you really think Gerri would choose Waystar over them?” he pushed, his features strained as he felt his hands go cold.
Elise paused, as though considering the question. He had a point. Things had changed - almost beyond recognition. Gerri wouldn’t choose Waystar. Not this time. Not like she had done after Baird died. Not like she had done when it was Lily and Maddie in Selina’s shoes.
“I agree, it’s not wise for Lily to know, not yet anyway,” she agreed, slipping the photos back into the folder before she pushed it across the table towards him. “She’s got enough on her plate right now, doesn’t need the stress,” Elise added as an afterthought. The last thing she needed was her wife pumped up on hormones making any rash decisions - especially any that could end up with a 2nd-degree murder charge.
Roman rested his hands on the closed folder. He’d burn it, when this was all done. Burn it so Gerri would see nothing but the ashes. “What are we going to do? If we can’t tell Lily and Gerri?” he questioned, focusing the situation back on the matter at hand. What were they to do? They needed to find a way to guarantee Gerri’s position and tackle Logan in one fell swoop. That was the only way this could end amicably.
Something seemed to shift in Elise then. Her eyes widening as it all clicked together. The pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting together. Roman could see the whites of her eyes and it sent a shiver down his veins.
All at once she seemed calm. Impossibly so. Her shoulders loosened and he watched as she unbuttoned the cuff of her shirt, rolling it up just enough to show the tattoo on her wrist. The stars and the moon. Her universe.
“Roman,” she said.
“Yes?” he asked, sitting forward on his seat.
Elise had made up her mind. Cometh the hour. Cometh the woman. Hell hath no fury like a mother’s terror and a daughter heaven-bent on revenge.
“Get Lukas Matsson on the phone,” she demanded, her voice steady now. “Why?” Roman questioned, though he reached for his phone nonetheless. “Your father wants to go to war with me? Fine. Let’s settle old scores, ” she decided, the reality setting in now that her suspicions from months had come to fruition.
And there was one particular old score Elise wanted to settle.
Dementia or not, there was one thing her father hadn’t forgotten about. His war across Wall Street with Logan Roy for ATN. Even when he couldn’t remember his daughter’s name, he still - vividly - could recall that. Could recall the hell Logan had put them through. The hoax calls to the FBI that led to the Ward offices being raided. Her mother’s death being splashed across the gossip rags.
It had been something she had thought of over the years. Something she had lost sleep over more than once. Increasingly more after she met Lily and realised the connection she had to Logan.
“Elise, there’s got to be other things we can do. This Matsson deal is almost over the line,” he protested, feeling like an unwilling passenger buckled into the front seat of a car hurdling, manically, down the freeway to an unknown destination. Elise leaned across the table, finger tapping down against the oak wood as if punching her words. “No, he’s crossed the fucking line, Rome,” she warned, shaking her head. “That man tormented my father. Had him looking over his shoulder for years. I’m not letting him do the same to my family,” Elise reminded him, looking as though she might reach across and snap his phone right out of his hand.
“But Elise…” Roman protested, though feebly,
“And if you were in my shoes? If it was Gerri and not Lily?” Elise countered, watching the resolve drain away from Roman’s face. He was simply putting off the inevitable now. He knew he had to choose a side - and everything up to this moment told Elise he already had, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“You’re part of this family now Roman, for better or worse. And families protect each other. I know that’s a foreign concept for a Roy, but it’s what we do,” she cautioned, her voice softer now as she tried to plead to his better judgement.
Elise had a point. Of course she had a point. He could practically hear Gerri’s voice in his head asking, “ how does this serve our interests?”. Hadn’t he done all of this for Gerri? Sacrificed any hope of a meaningful reconciliation with his father and siblings for her. It had all been for her. Everything since that day in Italy - even before it - had been for her.
Roman scrolled through his contacts, hitting Matsson’s name before putting the phone onto the loudspeaker and setting it on the table. Elise readied herself as she took a shaky breath.
“I’m guessing you have a plan,” he muttered as the international dial tone echoed around the room. The look Elise gave him roughly translated to a very sarcastic, “ you think?”.
She had a plan. One she had foolishly drawn up months ago when Lily first reconnected with Gerri. She had even gone to the trouble of having her accountancy team crunch the numbers. Had her lawyers run their eyes over the finer details and put the blueprint together. Then she had locked it away in her safe for just a moment like this. When the pieces would fall together and she had her chance. All she needed was one chance, just enough of a gap to squeeze her foot through the door and force it open.
“Have you ever read Macbeth, Roman?” she asked, a melancholy to her voice that Roman had never heard before.
“Not exactly cover to cover,” he admitted. If you could class scanning over the Sparknotes version as ‘reading’, then sure, he had read Macbeth. Had the general gist of it anyway. Knew of the Macbeths and the cautionary tale of ambition and its consequences. Of corrupting power and tyranny that came as second nature to men with cruelty in their veins.
“Blood will have blood,” Elise quoted, sitting herself back down on her seat as she fixed her eyes on the iPhone screen with Lukas Matsson’s name displayed across it.
The dial tone cut off then. Before Roman could speak.
“What have I done to deserve the honour, Roman?” Matsson asked as his voice echoed through the conference room. He could practically hear the smirk in the other man’s voice. As though he had been expecting Roman to call him.
“Lukas, it’s Elise Ward,” she greeted, correcting his assumption of who was on the other end of the line. Elise thought she could hear the clinking of ice against crystal. They had caught him at just the right time - whisky glass in hand, probably alone in a cabin somewhere, looking out at the darkness of winter rolling in.
“Ah, Elise. This is… unexpected, though not unpleasant,” he acknowledged as Roman kept his eyes fixed on Elise. What was her game plan here? What was she about to do? Was another Lady Macbeth standing up with her screwdriver in hand?
“I hear you’re having a little trouble getting congressional approval on bringing your gambling platforms to the U.S.,” Elise began, folding her hands neatly on top of each other as she kept her eyes focused on the man across from her.
Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on his seat. Had Elise been planning this all along? Had she been the player at the roulette table with the winning poker face? The one person sitting quietly in the corner with a royal flush tucked in her hands.
She had a prior relationship with Matsson, her marriage to Lily gave her an inside track to Waystar’s interim CEO. All Elise had to do was put the right pieces together and watch the dominos fall into line.
Clearly, this was not being ad libbed. Elise had thought this over, at the very least as a back-up plan. Had asked enough questions and snooped around to know what was going on behind the scenes.
Lady Macbeth indeed.
“If you believe the rumours, yes,” Matsson admitted and Roman felt the power balance shift. “What is it to you?” he followed up, the sound of footsteps coming across the phone line suggested he was moving somewhere else.
“Let’s say I know a few people who can help,” Elise offered, pursing her lips like the lioness waiting for her prey to fall into its trap. “And why would you be willing to help me, dear Elise?” Matsson asked and Roman sat up once more, waiting for the answer to the question he hadn’t been able to ask.
“Ward Inc. might be interested in acquiring certain assets that are on the table in your Waystar Royco deal. We’ve previously engaged in the potential purchase of them and I’d like to follow it through now,” Elise revealed as she turned her phone over, clicking across the screen until she opened a document labelled ‘CONFIDENTIAL: WARD INC ACQUISITION STRATEGY FOR ATN AND OTHER ASSETS’. She pushed it across the table, watching it fall into Roman’s hands.
Now he could know.
ATN was at the top of the acquisition list. It had been bolted onto the GoJo acquisition deal after the European company’s market value eclipsed that of Waystar Royco in a bid to balance the books. Followed by an assortment of radio stations, newspapers, and magazines Elise knew Logan was particularly fond of.
“I’m listening,” Matsson said, his voice floating through the room as Roman scrolled through the document on Elise’s phone. “We float part of the funding for the overall deal and then purchase the assets we want at pre-deal market value, while maintaining a board seat and a stock interest,” she explained, setting out the broad terms of the offer she was putting on the table.
That was the scenario she had gameplanned for. The blueprint she had memorised down to the last dollar sign. The strategy Roman was now reading for the first time.
“We help sweeten the deal. An American company being on board as your partner makes it more likely for the SEC to give you approval on the acquisition and we can provide support for your gambling licence,” she added, knowing that it all went back to GoJo’s inability to get his betting division set up in the U.S. - a piece of information she had paid handsomely for at a tech conference several months earlier in Geneva.
“And what do you get out of this deal?” Matsson asked. He made it his business to know other people’s - but even he knew this wasn’t just a business transaction.
“We get a say in your American CEO, amongst other things,” she revealed.
Dementia or not. Her father still remembered Logan Roy - and few things would make her happier than a particularly cold serving of revenge for him. She’d acquire ATN and rebrand it as her father had intended, bringing it within the Ward family and achieving the one thing her father had failed at.
“I suppose your mother in law will be top of the list of candidates,” Matsson chuckled, as though he should have expected this last-minute power play. “She’d be the only name on the list, Lukas,” Elise confirmed, killing more than two birds with one stone. She could hear the swooshing of a liquid before Matsson swallowed. A contemplative sip of whisky.
There was a pause.
“Is this some good old fashioned patricide?” Matsson asked. Elise looked across the board room table at Roman, slowly nodding her head to signal for him to speak.
“Hello, Lukas,” Roman cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter as though Matsson was in the room with them. “Ah, the plot thickens,” Matsson contemplated, giving a low chuckle down the phone.
Roman could practically hear the smirk in Matsson’s voice. This was what he wanted. What Matsson had virtually told him to do when they had met in Norway. Patricide . That word brought it all into the cold light of day.
He nodded his head at Elise to signal for her to take over again.
“Do we have a deal, Lukas? I know you can’t bring up the funding to get this acquisition over the line without sacrificing your sports betting division - and we both know that’s what’s making up the capital difference with your bullshit streaming numbers. You’re two weeks out from signing this deal and you need a miracle,” Elise pressed, eyes switching to the phone screen as though she expected the line to go dead at any moment. After the treason had been committed.
“So, the King is dead,” Matsson contemplated, swirling the ice cubes around in his glass.
It was Roman who answered. “Yes,” he replied.
“What’s done cannot be undone, are you sure about this?” Matsson questioned, giving him one final chance to back out. But Roman didn’t take it. “Absolutely,” he said, putting the line down in the sand.
Matsson didn’t waste any time after that. “Okay, Elise. Have your lawyers send through a proposal and we can work out the details,” he concluded, focusing his attention back on the mastermind of the plan.
“Lukas,” Roman interrupted, though he wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to say - but he couldn’t be just a silent party to this. Couldn’t let Matsson think he was just a “yes man ” to whatever plan Elise had been brewing in the background.
“Brutus. I knew you always had it in you,” Matsson applauded him. Elise scoffed at that. Trust Matsson to give Roman the credit for the plan she had put together.
“That’s who you are in this great chess game, Roman. The Senate turning its blades on dear old Caesar,” he told him, the philosopher once more waxing lyrical about the downfall of Logan Roy.
Brutus. The one who’s betrayal had taken Caesar's dying words.
“We keep this strictly need-to-know, Lukas. I don’t want Logan to know what’s happening, not until it’s too late,” Elise warned, knowing that was the biggest danger now. Logan couldn’t know. Not until he had already handed Waystar Royco to Matsson. Not until the ink was still fresh on the deal. He’d sell off his company then lose ATN to her within a matter of minutes. The last great American dynasty sold off for parts. There was a certain satisfaction she would get from that alone, even before ATN would come under Ward Inc ownership.
“We have a deal,” Matsson agreed. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Lukas,” Elise told him, reaching across the table to take her phone back from Roman. “Welcome onboard, Elise,” Matsson offered as his parting words before the phone line went dead.
Elise leaned back in her seat, looking across the table at Roman as the colour slowly returned to his face. “My father’s going to hate me,” Roman lamented, his head in his hands as he tried to work out his next play. “He might, but he’ll respect you for having done it,” she reminded him, knowing that Logan never would have expected his son to be capable of something like this.
“Did you always have this planned? From the beginning? To make a deal with Matsson?” Roman asked, though his voice wasn’t accusatory. After all, what would he have done without Elise? He wouldn’t have been able to pull off - or even think up - an idea like this.
“Not exactly,” she answered truthfully. It had only ever been a backup plan. A blueprint she thought would sit in the back of her safe gathering dust. “The idea came to me after Lily first went for coffee with Gerri, when you two came back from Italy. I had kept an eye on the GoJo deal from the beginning, but I thought…” she paused, turning her wedding band on her finger. “Better to have a crazy plan locked away in my safe than to miss an opportunity, if it came along,” she reminded him.
“So you’ve crunched the numbers?” Roman asked, needing to know this was legit, that this wasn’t just Elise playing the ultimate game of bluff to destroy the entire GoJo deal. Elise raised an unamused eyebrow as she tilted her head. “Do you think I ever do anything by half?” she quipped with a look in her eyes that silenced Roman at once.
“But if he comes near my daughter or my wife again, I swear Roman, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” she warned, sounding as though she might just do something anyway. Roman nodded his head, having accepted that as a fair warning. If Logan acted out again, Elise wouldn’t stop at ATN. Probably wouldn’t stop until Logan was gone - entirely. Literally and figuratively.
“I know, I know. I get it. Trust me, I get it,” he assured her, shrugging his shoulders as he looked away. “I feel shit lying to Gerri,” Roman admitted, pulling at the corner of his lip as he leaned back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling.
“I think we’ve all told enough lies, one more can’t do any harm, can it?” he asked, more to himself than Elise as he bit down on the inside of his mouth. Roman hated all these lies. It was no different than the lies he had watched his father tell his mother when he was growing up. This felt like a relationship built on lies. It all started with a lie, it was kept alive with lies, it was at risk of falling apart because of these lies. What was one more lie to add to the pile?
“Lies and secrets aren’t the same thing,” Elise spoke softly, as if she could see the battle going on inside his head. What they were doing didn’t amount to lies. It was a secret - just for the time being - until they could cross the Ts and dot the Is. “But both can protect the people we love,” she reminded him, standing up from her chair as she walked around the conference table towards his side.
“And you love her, don’t you?” Elise questioned, coming to a stop next to him, leaning back on the conference table. Roman looked up at her, pushing his seat back a little to give her space. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, a heaviness to his voice as he folded his hands, elbows resting on his thighs.
Some things didn’t need to be said to know they were true. This was one of them.
“Has she said it back yet?” Elise quizzed him, watching as he looked up at him unexpectedly - as if confused by his ability to know that Gerri hadn’t told him she loved him. “Well, uhm…not really,” he admitted, but did he need her to say it? He knew how she felt about him, at least he thought he knew how she felt. Thought he knew it in the mornings when they’d wake up together and the nights when he’d fall asleep looking at her face. He knew it - as much as he wanted to hear her say it. But he knew it.
“We don’t like to label things, I guess,” Roman shrugged, thinking of how much Gerri cringed anytime someone called her his ‘ girlfriend’. Though he understood that. It didn’t seem….serious enough for what they were. Gerri wasn’t a Tabitha - someone he invited around to parties and drinks receptions. Someone he liked spending time with and could have a laugh with. Gerri was far more than Tabitha had ever been - than anyone had ever been.
“Lily was the same,” Elise acknowledged, looking down at the platinum wedding band on her left hand. It was something she had thought about often. At the beginning of their relationship, when they were still finding their feet. Selina had changed that though. Showed them both that loving someone - unconditionally - was worth the risk.
“I think they both lost Baird so unexpectedly that…well, they were both a little scared of the idea of loving someone again, as fiercely as that,” she explained, wondering if Gerri’s mind thought the same way that Lily’s did. They had both lost Baird but Gerri had, at least according to Lily, never given herself a chance to properly mourn what she had lost.
“How did you get through it? How did you get her to say it?” Roman asked, looking up at perhaps the one person in the world who could understand the situation he was in. Elise laughed at that, releasing some of the tension in the room as she crossed her arms, a knowing grin playing on her lips. “Oh, you don’t want to know, Romey boy.” she assured him.
Elise would save him the particulars of the details. Of how she had whisked Lily away to Napa Valley for a weekend trip after six months of dating. Perhaps it had been the wine talking, but right there, under the moon and the stars, Lily had said those three little words to her for the first time.
“Maybe try and talk to her. You’ve been caught up in such a whirlwind that you’ve not had a chance to slow down and take stock,” Elise suggested, focusing back on the present and the man in front of her. “This is all going to come to a head soon. Might be wise to figure out where you all stand,” she added, knowing that they all needed to have a united front before the deal would come to a head.
“Good idea,” Roman acknowledged, feeling as if the whole building was starting to move in on him. The office had always felt suffocating, but now…it threatened to pull him under. He needed to get out and clear his head. “And can I say…for when the time is right…I highly recommend eloping, take it from me,” Elise teased, tapping him on the arm as she tried to lift his spirits. It at least managed to get a smile out of him.
“What are we going to do about Lily and Selina in the meantime?” Roman asked, not wanting to let his mind linger on the implication of what Elise had just said. “We’ve only got to get to the end of next week,” she pointed out, not quite sure what she was going to do. Elise would have to find a way to keep Lily and Selina out of sight until then.
“It’s not like you can get her a guard dog, like one of those big rottweilers,” Roman mused, though he wondered how practically it would be to buy a four-year old her own rottweiler to stand guard over her. “My family never had dogs,” Elise thought aloud, watching as Roman stood from his seat, buttoning up his blazer as he tried to pull himself together.
“Mine did,” he countered, remembering to fix his collar the same way Gerri did every morning. “I don’t remember that,” Elise folded her arms, tilting her head to the side with a confused look on her face. While the Wards and Roys had never been friends, they had run in the same circles. Summers in Europe, guests at the same wedding, almost always within each other’s spheres.
“You’re looking at him,” Roman said, stepping around the chair as a sense of realisation washed over Elise, her lips parting as she followed him towards the door.
“No one should know about this outside of the family,” she insisted, clearing her throat as she grabbed her things. “Am I family then?” Roman asked, stopping by the door, but he didn’t make any moves towards opening it. “You’re important to Gerri, who is important to Lily, so I guess that makes you part of the family,” Elise pointed out, stopping in front of him.
“So I’m like your sort-of step-father-in-law,” he joked, not allowing himself to get sentimental. Not until all this was over and he could breathe a little easier. Elise shocked her head as she laughed at him, hitting him on the arm. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy…but I like you,” she told him with a smile, feeling at least part of the stress shake off her shoulders. Through it all, she couldn’t doubt that Roman would do what he thought was best for Gerri. He had proved that already.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and find my wife then call my lawyers,” Elise announced, fingers curling around the handle of her bag as she nodded at the locked door. “Oh, sure, I’ll walk you out,” Roman offered, unlocking the door before holding it open for Elise to follow him as he made a beeline towards the elevators.
If they could get lucky, Elise could get out of the building without anyone seeing her. The last thing they needed was anyone - least of all his father - getting suspicious.
“We’re still having dinner together this Saturday, yes?” Elise asked as they stepped into the elevator as Roman hit the button for the lobby. “I think it would be good for everyone, it’ll be nice to be at a dinner where I’m not walking on eggshells,” Roman admitted, hands in his pockets as he watched the numbers above his head countdown towards the ground floor. He imagined dinner at the Ward residence would be nothing like the hundreds of dinners at his father’s that he had been dragged to - almost always against his will.
“We can touch base about the Matsson deal then, I should have it wrapped up by then,” she suggested, knowing they’d have the privacy to talk about it without looking over their shoulders. “Thank you, Elise,” Roman acknowledged as the doors of the elevator opened once they hit the ground floor.
“Oh, by the way, to give you a head’s up. Selina seems to think she can take Horus to her class show and tell next week,” she revealed as they headed out of the elevator and towards the turnstile doors by the entrance. “That’s my girl,” Roman smirked, not surprised that Selina’s obsession with the old tortoise was still going strong.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll ask you both about it at dinner,” she assured him, knowing Selina would no doubt be pestering Roman the whole time. “I have no doubt,” he agreed, wondering if he could smuggle the tortoise over without Gerri noticing.
“Give that girlfriend of yours a kiss for me,” Elise smirked, stepping forward to kiss Roman’s cheek as she gave him a hug. It surprised him how quickly the older woman had seemingly accepted him as part of her extended family. Perhaps this was how other families acted.
“She won’t appreciate you calling her my girlfriend,” Roman remarked as she pulled away, Elise’s smile never fleeting. “Well, better give her something else to be called,” Elise countered as she glanced over Roman’s shoulders, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the danger in the distance. “Watch out, there’s Lucrezia Borgia on your three o’clock,” she pointed out, nodding her head towards the direction of the elevators they had just come from.
Sure enough, Shiv was steaming towards them with all the swagger of someone who looked ready to throw a punch.
“I better make a run for it,” Elise whispered, giving his arm a squeeze as she turned on her heel to leave. “Save yourself,” he agreed, suspecting that Shiv was coming for the showdown he had been putting off since the RECNY ball.
“What are you doing here?” Roman asked as he turned around to face his sister with her face like fury. If he was a betting man, he would say that Shiv had seen them leave the conference room and had hot footed it after them.
“Were you chatting up your next mommy?” Shiv taunted, now occupying the space made vacant by Elise’s departure. “Fuck you, she’s Gerri’s daughter-in-law,” he protested, pushing her back just a little as he tried to move around her. But even in her heels Shiv was still quicker than him, pushing at his arm as she blocked his path.
“Yes, I’ve heard you’ve been playing house with Gerri,” Shiv folded her arms as she looked him up and down, taking in the Armani suit that had clearly been tailored to fit him like a glove. That had to be Gerri’s influence. Roman only ever bought off-the-rack suits that never really fitted him. Sleeves that were too long, trousers that looked a size too big. Yet here he was looking as if he had been dressed by Tom Ford himself.
“I have a friend who is having, like, a nervous breakdown about turning 35 and not having kids. I could always set you two up,” she offered, the sarcasm dripping from her voice as she stepped closer. “Geez, this has really fucked with your head, hasn’t it?” Roman asked, keeping his voice level to avoid them gathering an audience. The last thing they needed was a video of them wrestling on the lobby floor to go viral on Twitter.
“What has - you and Gerri? Trust it to take a woman pushing retirement age to get your dick to work,” Shiv snarled, eyes narrowing as she realised it was Gerri’s perfume that she was smelling.
God. They were sick.
“You’re pissed that I can be happy outside of this bullshit family,” Roman accused her, pointing his index finger into her shoulder as he closed the space between them. “I couldn’t give a shit what you do, Rome,” she laughed, face upturned in a way that always reminded Roman of their mother. The disgusted look she gave when she was pretending not to care. The look she had so often reserved for his father.
“Look, just because your marriage was a sham it doesn’t mean no one else can ever be happy,” Roman insisted, trying once more to walk around Shiv before she blocked his path again. “Just don’t invite me to the wedding, that’ll be a puke fest,” she taunted, putting two fingers towards her lips as she mimicked a puking sound.
“Don’t go holding your breath for an invite, Shiv,” Roman mumbled as he rolled his eyes, finally stepping around her, but Shiv was hot on his tail just as quickly. “What are you up to?” she demanded, walking in step with him, no matter how wide he tried to make his strides.
“Well right this second I need to go and take a piss, Shiv, you planning on coming into the little boys room with me?” Roman asked, stopping abruptly mid-step as he caught sight of the illuminated signs for the bathroom. “Don’t be so fucking dense, Roman,” she retorted, stopping in front of him. “You can still claim insanity and put an end to all this,” Shiv tried, catching sight of two of the junior executives walking past them towards the elevators.
“Something tells me you mean Gerri as CEO and not just my relationship with her,” Roman observed, hands on his hips as he glared at his younger sister. “Who would you replace her with? Tom? ” he jibbed.
It was then that it clicked - why Shiv was so exceptionally pissed about his relationship with Gerri.
“Oh, Shivvy Shiv, for all your brains, you’re really fucking naive. Tom! Tom - of all people - as CEO,” Roman protested, laughing to himself as he shook his head. Shiv really had lost the plot. Maybe she had fallen down a flight of stairs in Italy and bashed her head open. That would explain why she had become so intolerable.
“Hey, maybe when Elise runs for office I can ask her if you can be her mail boy,” he added, wanting to drive the knife in just a little further. Now it was Shiv’s turn to laugh. “And you call me the naive one!” she spat, eyes wide as she put her hands on her hips.
“Shiv, get out of my way or I’ll piss on your fucking Jimmy Choos,” he announced before he elbowed her out of the way, clearing his path towards the men’s bathroom. The one place not even Shiv would follow him into. Roman slammed the door behind him, hoping it would swing back and hit her in the face if she was even thinking of following him inside.
An SOS message to Emily had his first assistant coming down to tell Shiv she had an ‘ urgent message’ from Tom, clearing the coast for Roman to sneak back up to the executive floor without her seeing him. By the time he made it to the assistants’ desks, Roman had already made up his mind. He was throwing in the towel.
This particular Monday could go to hell.
“I’m kidnapping you,” he announced as he shut the door of Gerri’s office, making a beeline for where her trench coat was hanging up behind her desk. “You’re what?” Gerri asked, looking over the glasses that were perched on the edge of her nose. Roman could guess by the legal pad next to her laptop that she must have been reading through a contract or strategy doc.
“Ger, I am this close to sending fucking O’Brien out the nearest window and that was before I had to deal with Shiv. We’re going out for a “meeting” for the rest of the day,” he explained, holding her trench coat out in front of him as he waited for her to get up.
“Ah, I see,” she said, slipping her glasses off as she turned around in her chair. Gerri thought she had seen the distinctive red bob of Shiv Roy walking out of the elevator ten minutes earlier. A quick glance at the open Google Calendar tab on her desktop told Gerri there was nothing else in the dairy for the day that she required her to attend in person.
“You can at least buy me dinner,” Gerri remarked, getting up off her seat and letting him help her into her trench coat. “I’ll buy you the whole of that fucking Hermes store if you hurry up,” he insisted, texting on his phone as Gerri started to gather up her things into her handbag. “Alright, alright, I’m moving,” she insisted, throwing her glasses case into her bag as she shut down her computer.
“Can you walk in those?” Roman asked, glancing down at the black Manolo heels he had watched her slip into that morning. “What sort of a question is that?” she protested, the accusatory tone in her voice told him he had put his foot in it. “Alright, Wonder Woman,” he sighed, feeling the tension gather in the back of his neck. The last hour felt like getting whiplash.
“If you’re asking me if I can walk more than a few blocks in them, then yes,” Gerri answered, moving towards the door after doing one final check around the office. “That’ll do,” he decided, knowing they’d find somewhere within a few blocks to entertain them. At this stage, he’d happily sit at a bar and have a drinking contest. Loser pays for Aspen.
Roman sent a quick fire text to Fredrick to be on stand-by in case they needed him later. “Gerri and I are going out for a meeting. We probably won’t be back. Screen our calls and try not to start World War III until we’re back,” he announced as they stopped in front of Emily’s desk, where Alice and Nancy were standing with his first assistant.
“Would you like me to try and achieve world peace while we’re at it?” Emily asked, still typing on her computer, though she looked up at the couple standing over her desk. “Whatever you wanna do, Miss America, I just don’t want my phone ringing,” he insisted, making a show of putting his work phone into the inside pocket of his blazer.
“Let’s go,” Roman said, turning to Gerri as he put his hand on her back, guiding her towards the elevator. “Where are we going?” she asked, voice low to avoid anyone overhearing her. Roman looked around as he hit the elevator call button, glancing in the direction of his father’s office. The lights were off and it looked empty. He wasn’t sure where that was an ominous sign or not.
“Anywhere by here, at this stage,” he replied, hand curving around her waist, finding its familiar spot as he stepped closer. “What’s happened?” Gerri asked as the elevator doors opened and she headed inside. “Just good old-fashioned stress. I need to clear my head. It doesn’t matter, G,” Roman lied, hitting the button for the ground floor once more before the doors shut.
Just another lie to add to the pile.
It turned out that fifteen blocks and a few random side streets was as far as Gerri could walk in her Manolos.
“You forgot that no one actually walks anywhere in New York,” Gerri complained, her hand tucked in the crook of Roman’s arm as she tried to avoid putting too much pressure on the front of her feet. “Look, there’s gotta be somewhere up here that we can stop in. I’ll call Fredrick to come get us,” he conceded, nodding his head towards the building ahead of them with its stone exterior and billboard marquee.
He only realised what it was when they got closer to it.
Roman couldn’t remember how many times he had gone past that building, but this was the first time he had paid attention to it. Maybe it was the old movie posters or the image of a young Grace Kelly that made him think this was Gerri’s sort of place.
The billboard marquee displayed the titles and showtimes of four movies. None of them were ones he recognised from his short film education under Gerri’s pupilage.
The Iron Petticoat.
Midas Touch.
The Great Ziegfeld.
Mildred Pierce.
Gerri’s heels came to a stop beside him, just under the marquee as she looked up at the film titles. It seemed she had never been there either.
“Midas Touch,” Gerri chuckled, a smirk dancing on her lips as she glanced at Roman out of the corner of her eye. “I have a family connection to that movie, you know,” she revealed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Why? Did you go and see it when it first came out?” he teased with a smile. Roman narrowly missed the elbow that was sent his way.
“My great aunt was in it, actually. One of her last big movies. I’m named after her, you know. Geraldine Faye,” Gerri recounted, thinking back to the silver screen starlet whom she had never met but who still fascinated her to this day. Perhaps that was why she had always been so captivated by black and white movies - Geraldine’s in particular.
“So you’re a Faye blonde and not a Hitchcock blonde then,” Roman joked, looking at the French twist he was feeling an ever-growing urge to undo. More than once Gerri had let him pull the pins out of her hair, something that had become a little ritual for them. He’d pull the pins out of her hair while she’d be talking on the phone or finishing up paperwork.
“You watch Rear Window one time and act like you’re the expert on Alfred Hitchcock,” Gerri teased, stepping over to the side of the footpath, just under the cinema marquee.
“Whatever happened to her, anyway?” He asked, finding himself wondering about Gerri’s extended family for the first time. Gerri bit down on the corner of her lip. It seemed her blonde hair hadn’t been the only thing she had inherited from her namesake. “Ran off with the son of the studio owner,” she revealed, waiting for it to click in Roman’s head.
“So, it runs in the family then,” he remarked with a low whistle. The apple really didn’t fall far from the tree then. “I suppose you could say that, yes,” Gerri agreed, wondering if perhaps history was doomed to repeat itself. But Geraldine and her studio executive had been happy in the end of it all. If the stories were true.
“I have a photo of them somewhere in the apartment - with their dog, Pepper,” she revealed, feeling a sudden urge to go back through the old travel case of her mother’s that she had stashed in her study. It held an assortment of trinkets - everything from her parents’ wedding photos to one of her grandfather’s monogrammed handkerchiefs.
Roman stepped back into the footpath to get a better look at the times on the marquee. The next showing of ‘Midas Touch’ was starting in five minutes. Perhaps it was a sign from the universe - or just a lucky coincidence.
“Let’s go see it. It’ll be like meeting the in-laws,” he suggested, leading the way towards the doors of the cinema. “Be glad my father’s dead, Rome,” Gerri announced, hands in the pockets of her trench coat as she followed him. “Why? Would I have been scared of him?” He questioned, imagining for the first time what Gerri’s father might have been like. He had never heard her talk about either of her parents - or anyone in her family outside of Baird and their daughters.
“You wouldn’t have stood a chance. He’d have had you out cold in 10,” Gerri smiled, thinking of the man who would have towered over Roman. “Come on before we miss the first five minutes because I need popcorn for this,” he stressed, taking her by the arm towards the ticket counter.
The movie theatre turned out to be the perfect excuse to keep Gerri away from her phone. Part of Roman, perhaps the paranoid part of his brain, wasn’t convinced Elise wouldn’t tell Lily. Every time Gerri’s phone beeped he was sure it was Lily texting her about the PI. Yet, she never once looked at her phone. Her attention was on the screen the entire time.
Roman had spotted Geraldine Faye long before Gerri could point her out. It was…unnerving almost, how much Gerri and the woman on the screen looked alike. He listened intensively as Gerri leaned in closer after Geraldine gave her opening line, pointing out each actor in turn and their connection to her great-aunt.
“You know, it explains a lot,” Roman announced as they left the cinema almost two hours later, the sky already dark and with a chill in the air. “What does?” Gerri asked, walking slowly by his side as they headed back down the street in search of somewhere to eat. “Your love of old movies. I thought they were boring until you started making me watch them,” he admitted, part of him now fascinated by the thought of how those movies had been made. The studio system, the short filming times, the starlets and their “ box office poison” counterparts.
Maybe that was the sort of thing he could do. Build his own studio from the ground up. Do something for himself without the Roy name - or his father - being attached to it.
Their search for dinner inevitably ended at the nearest Asian restaurant three blocks east. A little hole in the wall spot that seemed quiet for that time of the evening after the early dinner rush, but busy enough for it to feel relaxing.
The only issue had been the lack of martinis, but Roman had made up for it by ordering half the appetisers on the menu and a sharing platter.
“I’ve been thinking. We need to talk about something,” Gerri said after the first few sips of her chardonnay had helped relax the tension in her shoulders. “Well, shoot,” Roman countered, picking between the pieces on the sushi platter with his chopsticks as he tried to choose his next victim.
Gerri cleared her throat. There was no time like the present but this was a conversation at least six weeks in the making. “What are we, Roman?” she asked, tilting her head as she kissed her teeth.
That almost had Roman dropping his chopsticks.
He sat up a little straighter in his seat, moving closer to her as he tried to find a way to make his mouth form a sentence. Anything cohesive that could sound like an answer. But nothing came out.
“And if you say the word ‘girlfriend’, I will poke your eyes out with these chopsticks,” Gerri warned, pointing her chopstick at him for good measure as she rested her elbows on top of the table. Roman reached out to grab his beer, taking a long sip of it as he looked at her across the table. ‘Girlfriend’ was the word he had long accepted didn’t work. Not for Gerri - she wasn’t a Tabitha.
But what was he meant to call her? What were they? Where were they heading?
“Roommates. Does that work?” he shrugged, tipping his beer bottle towards her. “Dear god, that’s even worse,” Gerri lamented as she stabbed at her avocado sushi with her chopsticks, looking away from him. Roman turned his chopsticks between his fingers, leaning back on his seat.
“We should just make it official,” he suggested casually, not sure what else to offer at that moment. Gerri’s head snapped up, her focus back on him. “Official, how?” she asked slowly, eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out the implications of what he had just said.
‘Official ’ could be anything between updating your Facebook relationship status to buying a diamond ring. Didn’t a Page Six splash on their relationship already make them official? Yet through it all they had never had this conversation - or any version of it. Never had stopped to take stock and figure out what they were.
“I mean, what’s the point in keeping my apartment? It’s not like I’m ever there anyway. All my shit is in the closet in the spare room,” he reminded her, taking another stab at the sushi platter with his chopstick.
His things weren't in the closet in her bedroom, of course. But his cologne sat next to hers on the vanity. His cufflinks were muddled up in between her Cartier watches and Bulgari bracelets. Their belongings had slotted in beside each other, yet it was still her apartment.
“You’re still annoyed I won’t put your gym stuff in my closet, aren’t you?” Gerri sighed with a roll of her eyes, using her chopsticks to push his chopsticks away when they both aimed for the same nigiri. “It’s not about that,” he insisted, reaching across the table to steal one of the edamame beans from her plate. “Why don’t we just actually move in together? I mean, we basically live together as it is,” Roman pointed out, avoiding looking her in the eye by instead focusing on his food.
“You want to move in together?” Gerri questioned, reaching out to pick up her wine glass, cradling it in her hand before taking a long sip. Roman laughed at that, the ridiculousness of the conversation making him relax a bit. “I’m sorry to break it to you, Ger, but I don’t even have my own Netflix account anymore,” he reminded her, having been using her account since he first started staying in her apartment. It was a fair trade though - she had stolen the log-in for his UberEats.
It hadn’t dawned on him that he had started staying at her apartment and just…never left. It had been as simple as that. She had handed him her spare key one of the first nights she had been working late. And that was it. Roman had just never left.
Gerri pursed her lips as she looked at him, eyes narrowing as she contemplated the next steps. He had a point. It seemed like they were just putting off the inevitable at this stage. What was the point in fighting what already seemed so certain? They may as well - finally - put a label to it, even if it was just that of ‘roommates’.
“Okay - but don’t sell your apartment,” Gerri compromised, before going back to eating her sushi and edamame beans as though they had just been discussing the weather. She had simply accepted her fate, which seemed to be to have Roman Roy taking up one-half of the master bedroom.
That was easier than Roman had thought it would be. There was no arguing. No complaints about needing personal space or independence. All the bullshit excuses he had been expecting her to throw at him. None of it had come his way. Yet that one request raised a red flag.
“Why?” He asked, wondering if she wanted him to keep it as a safety net. A $10 million crash pad for him to land on when she’d inevitably throw him into the dog house.
“You never know when it might come in useful,” Gerri shrugged, though the seed had already been planted in the back of her mind.
She had been wanting to get a place out of the city for years. Somewhere to go on the weekends to get away from the hustle and bustle of New York. Somewhere that she could actually have a pool and a back garden without spending the GDP of a small country. She’d need the space now, enough guest rooms for the girls and the grandkids. Maybe - in this alternative universe after Matsson took over - she could even commute everyday. Wave goodbye to penthouses and enjoy the freedom and privacy of a proper home.
“Maybe Maddie can use it when she’s in town,” Roman suggested, knowing there was no point selling that prime bit of real estate just yet. He could give it to Maddie, let her have somewhere to stay when she’d come back to the city. It might just get her to visit her mother a little more.
Gerri nodded her head. That was perhaps one of his best ideas yet and it was almost enough to distract her from the question she had asked. Almost.
“You’ve still not really answered my question, Rome,” she complained, setting down her chopsticks as she tried to get his attention. “You’re overcomplicating things, G,” he disputed, shaking his head as he reached over for another edamame bean, yelping as Gerri snapped his hand away. “Okay, let’s try this. Where do you see yourself in a year?” she countered, reaching out to take his plate to add a handful of edamame beans before handing it back to him.
“In your bed,” Roman responded without missing a beat as he took the plate back from her. Gerri audibly groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “ Other than that,” she sighed, though she shouldn’t have expected anything less from Roman. “Geez, Gerri, I don’t know what I’m having for breakfast tomorrow,” he shrugged between bites of his sushi. He had never been the sort of person to have a five-day plan, yet alone a five-year plan. All he had ever done was go with the flow.
“A pancake and a banana,” Gerri replied without a second thought. “What?” he stopped, chopsticks already pressed around a sushi roll as he looked at her as if she had suddenly grown a second head. “That’s what you have every morning. A pancake and a banana with half a glass of orange juice,” she pointed out, thinking of how often she had sat across from him in the lounge when he was eating just that.
“You stalking me, Ger-bear?” Roman asked, popping another edamame bean into his mouth as he tilted his head. “No, I just live with you,” she reminded him, realising a moment later that she had proved his earlier point.
“I think we just…I don’t know…play it by ear?” he suggested, feeling awkward at the idea of having to deal with his own feelings. “We can do that,” she agreed, accepting that this was the stalemate they had found themselves in.
Roman sat back in his seat, dropping his chopsticks down onto the table as he simply watched her for a moment or two. They had just been getting on with everything, practically taking it a day at a time, never looking in the rear-view mirror or even at what was right ahead of them. “What about you?” he asked, deciding it was only fair that Gerri found herself at the end of her own questions.
“Ask me again in two weeks,” Gerri insisted, brushing off his question as she picked up her wine glass once more, downing what was left in it. “After Matsson’s here?” he quizzed, assuming she was in the same boat as him. Roman couldn’t think beyond that following Friday - not until the deal would be signed and they’d have some idea what was going to happen next. Even more so now, with Elise’s underhanded scheme going on in the background.
“I just can’t think beyond that, I thought maybe you could,” she confessed. Gerri wasn’t sure which one of them had more to lose with Matsson’s deal. The rest of her professional career hung on the outcome of it. Either she’d stay at Waystar post-merger in a C-suite capacity or she’d be out on the street. But Roman was at risk of losing a safety net, something that had always been a part of his life. Waystar might have been promised to Kendall as a child, but there had always been a sense that Roman would be there as well.
“Everything hinges on how the deal goes,” she reminded him. Everything depended on it. And now the stakes were even higher.
The conversation came to an end as one of the waiters arrived at the table, grabbing their empty plates and promising to return with a dessert menu. “Oh, it’s Maddie,” Gerri announced as her phone started ringing, picking it up before it got to the third ring.
Roman leaned back on his seat as he watched her, half-listening to her side of the conversation as he caught sight of the stack of cocktail napkins that the waiter had left behind. That had always been their way of communicating with each other. Little notes back and forth.
He picked up the drinks menu from the middle of the table, leaning on it as he took the pen from his pocket and scribbled across the napkin. Gerri was still talking on the phone when he slipped it between the first and second page. “Order another drink, I’m nipping to the gents," Roman told her as he got up from his seat, leaning across the table with the drinks menu in hand. Gerri reached for it, her phone held between her cheek and shoulder as she nodded her head, still speaking to Maddie at the same time.
The napkin fell into her lap when she opened the drinks menu. Somewhere between Maddie’s explanation of why she had been posing with a snake around her neck and her complaints about the inability for restaurants to offer more than just a salad as a vegan option.
It was scribbled in Roman’s usual chicken scratch handwriting that only she ever seemed to be able to read. Hottest roommate I’ve ever had. Signed with his usual initial and an x. Trust him to carry on the roommate joke.
“Sorry, Maddie, I was distracted, say that again,” Gerri said a few moments later when she realised she had completely zoned out from the phone conversation. She put her youngest daughter back on hold again when the waiter came back, ordering another round of drinks before finishing up their call. The second bottle of beer and a fresh glass of chardonnay showed up on the table just as Roman came back from the bathroom.
“These are very sweet, you know. I didn’t think you had it in you,” she observed, holding up the latest addition to her growing napkin collection as Roman sat back down on his seat. “Oh, you should see the other shit I scribble onto napkins,” he joked, tapping his beer bottle against the side of her wine glass before taking his first sip.
“Which tends to be?” Gerri asked, leaning forward in her seat as she cradled her wine glass. “Oh, you know. My to-do list. Fuck Gerri, buy a new suit, feed the tortoise. Fuck Gerri,” Roman recounted with a smirk, a lightness to his voice now as if his phone with Matsson had never happened. As this was just any other day.
Gerri laughed at that. The sort of laugh that started in your belly, without any fear of judgement. One that you could easily surrender yourself to. “I have the others that you gave me,” she admitted, fingers moving across the cocktail napkin as she tucked it away safely into her handbag.
“So, Gerri Kellman is sentimental after all?” he teased, having never thought she was that sort of person - at least until he started staying in the penthouse. She had her own ways of being sentimental, almost always in private. Her study was proof of that with all its photographs and the old school records that lived in the master bedroom.
“It appears so,” Gerri agreed, smiling behind her wine glass. She had never kept much. Never the sentimental type who filled their office with their children’s artwork or who saved wedding invitations. But she had kept Roman’s napkin notes as if they were love letters. Always stacked in the same order, the newest one at the bottom. That was how she liked to read them.
“Where are they?” Roman asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He had never seen any of them again after giving them to her. Part of him had thought she probably threw them away after reading them. “In the white jewellery box in the closet - in the bottom tray,” she revealed. The same jewellery box that Maddie and Lily had bought her the first Christmas after Baird died.
“Not in the safe then,” he thought aloud, but Roman cringed at his own thoughtlessness a second later. He didn’t need her going into that safe anytime soon. Not with the grey file he had slipped in there the week before with Natalia’s NDA. The folder Nick had given him would need to go in there tonight.
“Too obvious. And sometimes…” Gerri paused, running her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Sometimes what?” he questioned, noticing the obvious hesitation as Gerri shifted her focus to her drink and away from him. “I take them out and read them,” she confessed, as though divulging a darker secret. Anyone else would think she was a sentimental fool. A sentimental old fool with a man who was probably too young for her, but she wouldn’t ponder on that particular thought tonight.
“Better give you more reading material then,” Roman offered, smirking behind his beer bottle as he took another sip. “I’ll just go up to the desk and pay, I’ll drop Fredrick a pin for where we are,” he explained, grabbing his phone and wallet from his blazer before making a beeline towards the counter.
Gerri watched him for a moment before the idea came to her. If she couldn’t say what she was feeling, maybe there was another option. She waited until she was sure his back was turned before reaching across the table to grab his pen, picking up one of the cocktail napkins. Her cursive handwriting was nearer than his chicken scratch. The letters were evenly formed with sloping circles and light turns that gave the letters a gentle flow.
Maybe she couldn’t say it. It was harder to say it with words.
But this would do. It would do for now.
She tucked the napkin into his top pocket, the one where he always kept his phone. He was guaranteed to find it then, probably tonight or the night morning, but he’d find it. And he’d get the message.
The same one he had given her on a napkin after they got back from Norway.
Three words. Eight letters. Signed with an x and her initial. Just like he had done.
It was later than Gerri had expected by the time they made it back to the penthouse. The stack of notifications on her phone, mostly emails and texts from her assistants, could wait until the morning. The rest of the evening was spent in her study, digging through the old photographs in her mother’s briefcase in search of the ones of Geraldine Faye. She had been right that there was a photo of the couple with Pepper. Roman had insisted on keeping it out, promising to get it framed so they could display it in the lounge.
It was 11pm by the time they had put everything away again and Gerri was ready to call it a day - but not yet. There was one more phone call she was waiting on. One that she didn’t want to miss.
“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Roman announced when he came back into the bedroom after changing, dressed in casual grey pyjama bottoms and a white cotton t-shirt. The same sort of thing as he had worn that night in Tern Haven. “Selina wants to take Horus to school for her show and tell,” he said, watching Gerri at the vanity table as he sat himself down onto the end of the bed.
“Of course, she does,” Gerri sighed, massaging the body lotion up her arms and into her hands as she thought about her granddaughter.
Selina was the only person she had a relationship with that wasn’t transactional. Even with her daughters, they had played a part in a bigger picture. Having children had been a transaction, as if it had been written into a contract when she married Baird. Part of Gerri knew she probably wouldn’t have had children if it hadn’t been for Baird. He needed children to complete the picture - the trophy wife on one arm and the charming children on the other.
She would have gotten swallowed up in her career, probably ending up working somewhere other than Waystar. Children would have been something she shrugged off. They wouldn’t have been the end-all-or-be-all that they were for Baird.
But there were no strings attached to Selina. Their relationship was the purest one she had in this world. And the one she was the most scared of losing.
“I think you should let Selina bring him to show and tell,” Roman insisted, looking at her through the gold mirror on the vanity table. “Because a tortoise on the loose in Manhattan would really end well,” she mocked, imagining the mischief that Roman, Selina, and a tortoise could get up to in Manhattan. They’d probably put a lead on Horus and walk him through Central Park as if he was a puppy. “We’ll just stick an Airtag into his collar. We could even put a GoPro on him. That shit would go viral,” Roman suggested, only half-joking as he put that particular idea into his back pocket.
He pulled at his fingers, thinking back to their dinner conversation as he watched Gerri go about the rest of her evening routine. Body oil. Gua sha. Nail polish touch-up. All the little things he found so fascinating, but his attention wasn’t on that tonight. It was stuck thinking about the little pearl that was rolling around his head.
“I was thinking about what you asked at dinner,” Roman announced a few minutes later when he knew Gerri was almost finished, when she was putting her things back into their assigned drawers. “Yeah?” she asked, tucking her hairbrush into the top drawer. “About what I wanted. I’ve made my mind up,” he insisted, watching as she snapped around to look at him.
Gerri gulped. What exactly did he want? Had he made up his mind so quickly? She gripped her fingers around the back of the vanity chair, eyes fixed on him as she waited for him to come out with it.
“I think we should get a dog,” he declared, elbows resting on his thighs as he looked up at her.
Whatever Gerri had been expecting. It hasn’t been that.
“A dog? Roman, be serious,” Gerri chuckled with a shake of her head. A dog was a commitment, one that was a lot more serious than a tortoise. You didn’t get a puppy with a ‘roommate’.
“Yeah, a dog. Like your great whatever-her-face had,” Roman insisted, flapping his hand around as he tried to remember what Geraldine Faye had been to her. “We could call it Salt. Get it, Salt and Pepper,” he joked, thinking of the cocker spaniel in the photograph he had seen of Geraldine and her partner. “How would we look after a dog? Your brother managed to kill a rabbit with a bagel, of all things,” Gerri reminded him as she got up from the vanity.
And if they had a dog, they certainly wouldn’t be calling it salt. Regardless of Roman’s apparent obsession with food-related nicknames.
“You can take it to the office with you,” Roman suggested as Gerri walked around to her side of the bed, pulling back the duvet cover. “Oh, that would go down a treat,” she said sarcastically, imagining the pandemonium that would unfold if she showed up to the Waystar office with a puppy in her handbag as if she was fresh off the set of Real Housewives of New York.
“I could look after it, I’ll just be here anyway,” Roman admitted, turning around to look at her as she sat down on the bed. Gerri’s face dropped as she caught the implication of what he was saying.
“Do you…do you not want to stay at Waystar?” she asked, suddenly feeling as if something had been pulled out from under her. “I don’t know what I want, Ger,” he confessed truthfully. The only thing that he knew he wanted was right in front of him, everything else was… less clear than that.
“I like the movie side of things, I always did, but Waystar Studios is just churning out crap for streaming,” Roman explained, not wanting to think about the turkey anymore than physically necessary. “You want to start your own studio?” Gerri asked, getting up from the bed and heading towards her handbag, going in search of the napkin he had given her at the restaurant.
“I don’t know...it’s just a thought I guess,” Roman shrugged, moving to his side of the bed as he pulled down the covers. He thought back to the movie they had seen earlier that day. Midas Touch. There was a nostalgia for something he had never known. His relationship with Gerri - seeing films through her eyes - had given him a newfound appreciation for filmmaking. Perhaps that was what he could do outside of Waystar.
“Could always remake one of those old timey movies of yours,” he offered, though the ideas were already swarming in his head. “Enough of the old, thank you very much,” Gerri called over her shoulder as she retrieved the napkin, moving back over to her vanity table to check her phone. “But I don’t think a studio is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” she added, not wanting to dash his confidence. It was her belief that Roman could do anything he set his mind to.
“Maybe I’ll take some time off after the GoJo deal. Figure out what I want to do, where we should go next,” Roman considered, looking up at the ceiling as he resisted the urge to pull the covers over his head to hide from the rest of the world. “I’ll help you however I can, you know that,” she reminded him, turning to look at where he lay sprawled out on the bed, the covers hanging loosely over his chest. “I know you will, but I feel like I need to do something myself,” he groaned, putting his hands over his face. Maybe Elise could help him. He could pitch the idea to her.
“I’ll think about it when we’re in Aspen,” Roman decided, pushing himself up to lean back on his elbows as he looked across the bedroom at her. She was staring at her phone as if willing it to ring. “Are you waiting on someone to call?” he asked, surprised that her phone wasn’t charging on the other side of the room like it usually would be.
“No, just texting back and forth with Maddie,” Gerri lied as she looked down at the napkin. His chicken scratch handwriting filled one corner of the napkin, just above the restaurant’s logo. “Better add this one to my collection,” she said, before disappearing into the closet to store it away in her jewellery case.
Gerri paused to look at the safe at the back of the closet, the metal box tucked in between her coat rack and the rows of colour-coordinated briefcases. Something Roman had said earlier that day made her think about it. If she thought hard on it, Gerri could have sworn the things around it look a little out of place. But perhaps that was just her general paranoia talking. She tucked the napkin into the bottom of the pile in her jewellery box before switching off the lights and going to the bed.
Gerri was still awake after midnight, still watching the phone on her bedside table. Waiting for it to ring. Roman was asleep beside her, his cheek resting along the length of her arm. She had made a point of not getting trapped by him, of moving his arm so she could make an easy escape when the phone would start ringing.
It finally rang at 12:15am. The screen flashed to life as she slipped out of bed, silencing the ringer before it could wake Roman up.
Gerri waited until she was out on the balcony before answering the call. The same call she had been waiting on for most of the evening. “Hello, Nancy,” she greeted, standing by the railings that overlooked the quiet streets below.
“Hi, Gerri,” Nancy responded and Gerri could have sworn she could hear the younger woman’s teeth chattering. It was cold enough to see her breath and she knew Nancy well enough to know that her second assistant probably wasn’t appropriately dressed for the weather.
“How did it go with O’Brien?” She asked, stopping by the side of the balcony furthest from the master bedroom. “He told me plenty of bullshit about Tom and Greg, but did you know that Karl is buying a Greek island with his brother-in-law?” Nancy questioned the speed of her sentences making it clear to Gerri that she had downed at least a few martinis that evening. “That’s news to me,” Gerri admitted, tucking that particular nugget of information to the back of her mind.
“Anyway, I tried probing him about Logan and Roman - like you asked - to see if there’s something going on there,” Nancy continued, getting straight to the point of the call. “Is there?” Gerri asked as she cursed herself for not grabbing a cigarette and a lighter on the way out, but both were on Roman’s side of the bed. At least a cigarette might have kept her warm.
“Logan’s stressed about the Matsson deal. They’re obviously due to close it in two weeks but the word on the street is that Matsson isn’t keen on having a Roy in the top seat and Logan’s spooked, might try something with the SEC as a last minute hail mary,” Nancy revealed, sharing the information she had managed to get out of O’Brien during their so-called ‘date’.
“So the other executives don’t expect Logan to be given a chairman role or anything post-deal?” Gerri quizzed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure there wasn’t any movement in the bedroom. “So far it looks like Matsson only has one appointment in mind,” Nancy said, the sound of an engine starting in the background making Gerri assume she had just gotten into an Uber.
“Who?” she asked. “You,” Nancy responded quickly, before there was a pause on the line. “ Me,” Gerri exclaimed in a hush whisper, her mind going back to the conversation she had with Matsson in Norway. Had he been testing her out? Was that why he had made them travel all that way for a 30-minute face-to-face.
“Ger, you don’t think Logan is going to do something… to try and make you back out before the deal?” Nancy asked, having not been able to get an answer to that question out of O’Brien. Gerri thought back to the events of recent days, of how she was convinced something was happening right under her nose. “I think he might already have done it. I just don’t know what it is yet,” she admitted, leaning over the balcony railings as she looked out at the New York skyline.
Did Roman know what Logan was up to? Why was he keeping it from her? What could be so bad that he couldn’t tell her? How did it serve their interests for her not to know?
“Oh, other news. My contract came through today. So…uhm…can we class this as me handing in my two-week notice?” Nancy asked, quickly shifting topics as her Uber headed through the streets of lower Manhattan. “You want to finish up the day of the GoJo deal being signed?” Gerri quizzed, part of her knowing that losing Nancy would be a difficult transition to adjust to, but she had known this was coming since the day after the RECNY ball.
“End of an era and all that, seems like a good time to bow out,” Nancy said, though there was something in her voice that told Gerri it had been a bittersweet decision. But events had transpired that meant Nancy couldn’t stay at Waystar any longer. “How am I ever meant to replace you, Nancy?” she asked, tucking her phone against her shoulder as she crossed her arms, trying to warm herself up.
“Stand at Grand Central station and choose any bushy-haired twenty-something who looks too far out of her depth” Nancy joked, laughing down the phone as she thought back to who she had been when Gerri had ‘ found’ her. She had taken a wrong turn and ended up in Gerri’s office instead of in the HR office two floors down. It had just happened to be the same day Gerri’s former second assistant had handed in her resignation, long before the HR department could even have advertised for the role.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Gerri reminded her, thinking of how far Nancy had come from being that “bushy-haired twenty-something who looks too far out of her depth”.
“Look who’s talking,” Nancy countered with a chuckle. There was a pause for a moment as Gerri tried to find the right words for the delicate situation she had put her second assistant into.
“Nancy, I’m sorry that Nick had to see you with O’Brien, I came out of my office as soon as I realised he was there the other day,” she admitted, knowing how that scene would have looked to Nick. “Yeah, well, my days of caring about what Nick thinks are well behind me,” Nancy admitted with a sigh, but her words weren’t convincing. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s sorry about what happened,” Gerri offered.
There was a certain irony to the fact that neither Roman nor Gerri knew that the other had tasked their respective second assistants to spy on their behalf. Nick with Hugo. Nancy with O’Brien. Nick and Nancy were working in the shadows. Neither knowing what the other was really doing. And their relationship had paid the price for it.
“I wouldn’t have expected you to forgive him so easily, Ger,” Nancy acknowledged, shocked that it seemed as if Gerri had no problem with the man who had been conspiring with Hugo and Natalia.
That set alarm bells ringing in Gerri’s head. Further proof that something had been happening under the radar. Roman was keeping something from her. She was sure of it now. “Why wouldn’t I forgive him? He didn’t do anything to me?” she asked, her heart beating in her ears as she tried to put the pieces together.
Nancy froze on the other end. Gerri didn’t know that Nick had been working with Hugo. “Gerri, I thought…” she paused, not sure what else she could say.
Gerri pulled the phone away from her ear as she heard Roman calling her name from the bedroom. Shit.
“I’ve got to go,” she said hurriedly before hanging up the phone, turning around as Roman’s voice got louder. “Gerri…” he tried again, the bedroom light switching on. “Out here,” Gerri called, moving towards the other side of the balcony so that she would come into his line of sight.
“You okay?” Roman asked, stepping out onto the balcony as he shivered from the cold. “I just couldn’t sleep,” Gerri lied, kissing her teeth as she folded her arms, eyes narrowing as she thought of the different puzzle pieces she had been gathering up.
“Roman,” she started, pursing her lips. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” she asked, fingers tightening around the phone in her hands. Roman looked taken aback by the question, a cold chill going down his spine as he took a breath, trying to keep his face still.
“Course I wouldn’t, Ger,” he lied, because it would just be another lie to add to the ever-growing pile. “Even if you thought it was in my best interest,” Gerri countered, confident now there was a web of lies hiding under the surface.
“What’s up with you? Who was that on the phone?” Roman asked, stepping closer to her as he walked out onto the balcony on his bare feet, the stone cold under his skin. “No one. It was just Lily,” Gerri lied calmly, her eyes fixed on his face as she tried to get a read on him.
“Everything okay?” he questioned, his hands coming to rest on her arms as he felt her visibly tense at his touch. “Yeah, she’s just… it sounds like everyone’s still keeping secrets from me,” Gerri confessed, looking away from Roman as she turned her head. “What’s Lily got to keep secrets about now?” he asked, not letting go of her as he tried to get her to look at him. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just paranoid,” she shrugged, not sure what else to say at that moment.
Roman could feel the shift in the air. The tension bubbling under the surface. Gerri knew. Somehow, Gerri knew.
“It sounds like you need some sleep,” he suggested, finally letting go of her as he headed towards the balcony doors. “Come back to bed, Ger, it’s fucking freezing out here,” Roman tried again, holding his hand out for her to take.
Gerri looked from Roman’s outstretched hand to his face. He was lying to her. It was clear as day now. Whatever he was up to, Nick was involved in it as well - and Nancy knew something she hadn’t told her.
“You’re right, I’m just tired,” she lied, forcing a weak smile as she walked towards him, taking his hand. “I’m just worried about the girls, that’s all,” Gerri added, letting him lead her back into the bedroom.
“I found it, by the way,” Roman announced as he closed the balcony doors behind them. “Found what?” Gerri asked, playing coy as she stood beside the bed, folding her arms. “Your note. Trust you to steal my idea, Ger,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood as he walked towards her, his hands finding her waist as he pulled her closer to him.
“So it’s true then?” Roman asked, inhaling the scent of her lotus flower body oil. He had found the napkin when he was searching for his phone when he realised she wasn’t in bed. The ‘I love you’ scribbled across the white fabric in cursive black handwriting.
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Rome,” Gerri whispered, her heart racing as she struggled to look him in the eye.
But he had lied to her. He was hiding something from her, something to do with Logan, perhaps even Matsson as well.
As she fell asleep next to him, Gerri could hear the rain hitting the balcony windows. There was a tempest brewing in the distance, inching closer to them. Everything was about to change once more, to be thrown off its course.
The Ides of March were coming.
Notes:
Geraldine Faye is lovingly borrowed from Cara's fic,Stardust. If you're not reading it already, please sort your life out and start reading it ASAP. If you've read this far into this fic, I guarantee you that you'll enjoy Stardust.
Chapter 24: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?
Notes:
Hello, hello! Right, buckle in. Chapter 24 and 25 were meant to be *one* chapter, but I genuinely didn’t think anyone would get through it in one sitting - so I’ve split it over two chapters. Yes, the Virgo in me hates the fact I’ve lost the nice round ’25 chapters’ for this fic, but oh well.
Thank you for sticking with this silly little fic that was only ever meant to be 10 chapters long but then took on a life of its own once the barbies started talking in my head. I am slightly behind my posting schedule because I thought it would be a *great* idea to do a Christmas fic. Yes, I do question my own sanity on a daily basis.
I’m hoping to get chapter 25 done before Christmas. My original plan had been to get the epilogue chapter up by then as well, but I don’t think that’s likely to happen because of the Christmas fic.
Anywho, onto this chapter. It never was meant to exist. You all can thank Abi for requesting a part of it, which inevitably (because this is me) evolved into a full chapter. Consider it the calm before the storm.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
By the time Saturday rolled around, everyone was walking on eggshells. Roman had left Elise alone to work out the finer details of her acquisition strategy, while keeping in touch with Lily and her search for dirt on Hugo. He needed a strong, strong drink to get him to Friday. To get him to the day that Matsson would sign on the dotted line and this would all be over.
He just had to get to Friday. Easy, right?
“Is this how you always felt before coming to dinner at my dad’s?” Roman asked, shifting awkwardly on his seat as he felt the sweat gathering at his collar. It wasn’t that he was nervous to be in Lily and Elise’s home. It was the…. domesticity of it all. Having dinner with Gerri’s family. That seemed even more cosy than sharing a bed or when he’d joke about Horus being his step-kid.
“Well, to start with, I think we’re a lot less likely to see a violent outburst tonight,” Gerri pointed out, looking at Roman over the top of her glasses as the car headed through the streets of New Manhattan towards the Kellman-Ward townhouse. They had come straight from the office, having spent the morning and afternoon working out the PR strategy for the days immediately following the signing of the GoJo deal. No one was taking an hour, let alone a day, off work until the ink was dry on the contracts. The idea of a “weekend ” no longer existed.
“Fair point,” Roman agreed, doubting either Elise or Lily on their worst days could hold a candle to Logan Roy’s temper. Though he would put nothing past Elise. Not when he knew what she was capable of now.
He pulled at his collar, lifting the cotton fabric away from his neck as he took a shaky breath. The sleep deprivation was starting to get to him, his eyelids feeling impossibly heavy as he leaned his head back to make it easier to keep his eyes open.
“You’re being angsty. You’re going to make me angsty. What’s up?” Gerri questioned, shifting around in her seat to turn towards him. Roman had been acting off all week. She had been noticing that something was wrong for even longer than that, ever since the RECNY ball, but it had gotten worse in the last week. He hadn’t been sleeping. She knew that much for sure. He had hardly eaten anything and she had practically sat at the kitchen table with him for an hour the night before to get him to finish his sushi platter.
“Nothing, nothing, Ger,” Roman shrugged, eyes fixed on the sunroof of the Aston Martin as they headed through the streets of New York. “You’re not fooling anyone, Rome,” she reminded him with a sharp tone in her voice. She had heard him pacing the halls of the penthouse at least three nights in a row. Gerri could read him like a book now - and he made an uneasy read.
“Just been a long week, that’s all, next week will be even worse,” Roman reminded her, playing with the bracelet on his wrist. “It’ll all be over by Friday,” she assured him, wondering if it would be juvenile to start counting down the hours and minutes until Matsson was due to sign on the dotted line. “Well, thank fuck for that,” he sighed loudly, hands coming to rest over his stomach as he turned his head to look at the woman next to him.
“What’s in the bag?” Gerri asked, nodding her head towards the navy gift bag at Roman’s feet as she tried to change the subject. She could tell it had been professionally wrapped. The silk ribbon and little gold sticker over the top were proof enough of that. “Oh, it’s a gift for spud,” he revealed, sliding up in his seat as he reached over to pick up the bag, showing it off to Gerri. “A gift?” she questioned, not sure what to make of the idea of Roman buying her granddaughter gifts when she had hardly given Selina anything herself. There hadn’t been much opportunity for gifts since the little girl had come into her life - yet here was Roman already getting a head start.
“I went and got it when you were getting Lily her flowers earlier,” Roman explained, looking at the bouquet in Gerri’s arms, the ones she had hardly let go of since they had bought them in the store about an hour earlier. He had reckoned that Selina, with all her sensitivity to both her mothers, probably knew something was up. The least he could do was buy the kid a gift. Not that he felt he needed an excuse.
“You shouldn’t go spoiling her, Rome,” Gerri reminded him, reminding herself that Roman hadn’t been around many children before and Selina was different. A lot different than Grace’s daughter. “Says the one who bought the kid a fucking Max Mara coat. She’s four, G,” Roman pointed out, being relatively sure that several of the Net-a-Porter boxes sitting in the kitchen were also gifts for Selina. “She needs a coat for Aspen!” she protested, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt as she smoothed out the non-existent creases. “Semantics,” Roman countered, knowing Gerri would buy that little girl anything she ever asked for. She’d put a hook around the moon and bring it to her if Selina asked for it.
Fredrick cleared his throat as the car rolled to a stop outside the townhouse. Gerri watched as he got out of the car, taking his time in walking around to her side to open the door. Clearly the chauffeur knew they needed a minute alone before going inside.
“Roman, just...whatever else is going on. Let’s just put it in a box and enjoy dinner, okay?” Gerri pleaded, slipping the strap of her handbag onto the crook of her arm as she did one final check over the bouquet of flowers she was cradling in her arms. Her other hand was carrying the matte gold gift bag that she had filled with martini essentials - everything from a new set of glasses, gourmet olives, and the vermouth she had heard Lily mention at her birthday party.
“Yeah, sure, G, we can do that,” Roman agreed.
If only he could put it in a box. He had to speak to both Elise and Lily - separately - to check in with them before Friday. Did Lily know what Elise was up to? He knew Lily had kept Elise in the loop about the blackmail, but he couldn’t see Elise telling her wife about what was to come. Not unless she thought Lily had a role to play in it as well. If she wanted to give her a front row seat to watch it all unfold. The Roman Empress taking her place of honour at the colosseum. Claudia looking down upon the gladiators.
The front door opened before they reached the top step. For a second, Gerri thought Selina might come bouncing down the steps. But it was the girl’s mother who met them at the door. “Fashionably on time,” Lily greeted, holding open the door as she waved the couple towards her.
“Where’s the Mrs?” Roman asked, giving Lily the once over as he took in the sight of her maxi shirt dress, the thin brown belt cinched in tight at her waist. He smirked at the shoes. Lily’s signature stilettos. It seemed Lily - unlike her mother - was not the sort to slip into a pair of Uggs or fluffy slippers the moment she got home.
“In the kitchen, finishing up our starters,” Lily explained as Roman moved in to give her a hug before stepping around her to pop his coat onto the hook next to a distinctively Max Mara looking camel coat. “So you’re not the cook in the family?” he asked, already feeling more relaxed inside than he had in the car. “God, no! I once managed to burn a cookie in the microwave,” Lily laughed, turning from Roman to greet her mother with a hug, lingering a moment longer than usual, feeling the tension in the older woman’s shoulders as they pulled away from each other.
“These are for you,” Gerri announced, nodding down at the flowers she was cradling in the crook of her arm. “You remembered I liked dahlias,” Lily beamed, though the shock was evident in her voice as she accepted the bouquet. Her mother hadn’t been the sort to remember things like your favourite flowers or the book you read twice a year like your personal bible. Yet it seemed Gerri remembered some things after all.
“Hello in-laws,” Elise greeted as she appeared from the other end of the hallway, a toile print apron still clipped on over her blouse and black jeans. She kissed Roman on both cheeks before leaning down to hug Gerri, who held out a gold gift bag towards her daughter-in-law. “A few things for your martini cart,” she explained, suspecting that they’d likely put a dent in their martini-making supplies that evening.
“You speak my language, Gerri,” Elise smirked, taking the gift bag that had the distinctive long neck of a Grey Goose bottle sticking out of it. “I have something for the kiddo as well,” Roman announced, holding up the sparkly pink gift bag that he had been carrying. “You shouldn’t have,” Lily acknowledged with a shake of her head, glancing down at the bag as she waved for the couple to follow her through the townhouse.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Roman observed, taking in the warm interior that seemed far more inviting than any of the houses his father had ever owned. This townhouse felt as though it had been lived in, as if it was a real family home. The sort where you would find pencil marks on the kitchen door, tracking the height of the family’s children as they grew from toddlers to teenagers. The kind of home he had never had. It would have been hard to track his height when they seemed to move houses every six months.
“Thank you, I bought it when we were adopting Selina,” Elise explained and Gerri once more felt that pang in the pit of her stomach. Her daughter - and her granddaughter for that matter - had been so very, very close. For four years they had been virtually right under her nose. If only she had lifted her eyes away from her phone, taken a minute to contemplate where Lily was, instead of letting Waystar Royco and Logan Roy consume every waking moment of her day.
“It looks as if you designed the whole thing yourself,” Gerri remarked, admiring the pre-raphaelite artwork that seemed to have found its way onto every wall in the hallway. They were all there. The sisterhood of the women who dominated classic literature - Ophelia, Circe, and Lilith. She never should have expected anything less.
“If only. Trust me, there’s still boxes in some of the third floor rooms, but I just...didn’t feel like an apartment was a family home and we were in a bit of a rush,” Elise admitted, still not entirely satisfied with how the townhouse looked. The paint on the nursery was still drying the day they had brought Selina home and everything beyond the kitchen, bedrooms, and office had been put on the backburner when Selina was still a baby.
“I get that,” Gerri acknowledged, folding her arms around her as she remembered what the brownstone was like when Lily and Maddie were Selina’s age. “Ready to swap out the penthouse for something bigger?” Elise prodded, sensing that there was something brewing under the surface. “If Roman keeps asking about a dog then sure,” Gerri laughed, hoping to keep the conversation lighthearted and away from serious topics like buying houses and taking the ‘next step’ in her relationship.
But Roman was off down the hallway, out of earshot when Gerri mentioned the dog that he seemed to bring up at least once a day.
Lily and Elise’s home was different than any that Roman had been in. Once you stepped inside, you could be anywhere in the world. Paris, London, Tokyo - anywhere but New York. Most of the homes Roman had lived in had been decorated by someone else, almost always a professional decorator. He could tell that this home, while it might look like something out of a Ralph Lauren catalogue, had evolved to suit its occupants.
While Gerri might not be sentimental, the same couldn’t be said about the two women who owned the townhouse. The fridge in the kitchen was covered in what Roman could only assume was Selina’s artwork - everything from painted handprints to stick figures with little lopsided letters written above their heads to signify who was who. He laughed to himself at the little green blob with ‘ Horus’ written in scribbly handwriting on top of it. Roman didn’t miss the little stick finger next to the tortoise that had a lopsided R on his t-shirt. Was that meant to be him? That hit a nerve somewhere in him that he hadn’t expected.
“Let’s head into the dining room,” Elise suggested, leading the way towards the dining room with its large oak table and eight high-back chairs with sage green upholstery. Only the four places at the centre of the table had been set with wine glasses and an array of plates - a full dinner service. It was clear Elise was pulling out all the stops, but it still felt far more intimate than any of the dinner parties his father had hosted. There were no maids or waitresses. No pomp and ceremony. Just good company and home cooking. Was that what family dinners were supposed to be like?
“Where’s Selina?” Gerri questioned, wondering for a moment if the little girl had been shipped off to a babysitter for the evening. There wasn’t a place prepared at the table for Selina, but perhaps she had already eaten. She supposed this time of the evening was probably too late for the four-year old. “Yeah, where’s spud?” Roman asked as he stepped into the formal dining room, having dropped the gift bag and his coat in the lounge on his way through.
“She’s taking a nap. Saturdays are a little manic in this house. We’ve ‘Mommy and Me’ ballet, so Selina and I are running around all morning. Plus she usually has a playdate or two as well. By the time we got back, she was already fast asleep - not even the idea of ‘Ro’ and ‘GG’ could keep her awake.”
Lily laughed as she took in the matching downturned expressions on the couple’s faces. “She’ll be awake soon, don’t worry,” she assured them with a smile, pointing towards the two seats on the right-hand side of the table as their assigned seating. “Let me get you both a martini while Elise finishes up the starters,” Lily suggested, waiting for them to sit down before heading out to the drinks cart by the rectangular window that overlooked the sidewalk.
“I didn’t know Elise could cook,” Gerri confessed, realising just how little she knew about her daughter-in-law. “See, I knew Elise and I were alike,” Roman joked, practically seeing Gerri roll her eyes, even though her head was turned the other way. “Roman, you burn your pancakes every other day,” she reminded him in a stern voice, thinking of how many times she had been forced to turn off the fire alarm while he was making breakfast. “No I don’t. I just like them crispy, that’s all,” he shrugged, ignoring the redness that came to his cheeks as Lily returned to the table with two martinis.
“What did Selina bring to show and tell?” Gerri asked, thanking her daughter for the martini before taking her first sip. “A picture of Horus,” Lily replied as she took her seat across from her mother. “I told you that you should’ve just let the kid bring Horus in,” Roman reminded her, his martini glass pressed against his lips as he waited to take a sip.
The first course of the dinner went by relatively uneventfully. Elise spent most of the time filling the other couple in on Selina’s extra curricular activities, while reminding Gerri about the Nutcracker recital in two weeks’ time. Lily had gone quiet at that. How many ballet recitals had she spent looking out into the crowd for her parents? And how many times had she been disappointed? That little voice in the back of her head warned her about getting Selina’s hopes up, about putting her daughter in her shoes. But things were different now. Her mother was different now. And perhaps she loved Selina more than she had loved her at that age. When the self-preservation of her career and the Roy family came above all else.
“I’ll be there,” Gerri promised and Lily occupied herself with stacking the plates. Roman seemed to catch that there was something odd in the air. An uncomfortableness that hadn’t been there before. “I’ll make the next one sure, I’ll take these to the kitchen,” Roman offered, picking up the three empty martini glasses as he headed out of the room after Elise told him where he could find chilled glasses.
The patter of footsteps on the wooden steps caught his attention before he got down the hallway. There was Selina in her pyjamas - a white set with little pink stars dotted across them. One arm was wrapped around her plush elephant while the other hand held onto the bannister as she carefully took each step. “Hey, hey, hey. Look who’s awake,” he greeted, waiting for the little girl to spot him.
“Rooooooo!” she called, stopping on the fifth step from the bottom as she held her arms out for him. “Hey, spud,” Roman greeted, setting the two martini glasses down on the side table before moving towards the stairs to scoop her up. “Did you bring Horus?” Selina asked, wrapping one arm around his neck as she looked around for her little four-legged friend. “Afraid your GG said nope to that one,” Roman apologised, part of wondering if he should have tried to smuggle the tortoise into the house in one of the gift bags.
“Where’s Mama?” Selina asked, rubbing her left eye as she yawned, resting her head down on Roman’s shoulder. “Elise!” He called, turning around in the direction of the dining room. “She wants Lily. I’m Mommy, she’s Mama,” Elise explained as she walked past with their stack of empty plates and cutlery. “Right, let’s go find your Mama,” Roman announced, realising that was a distinction he should have clocked onto earlier.
“GG!” Selina cheered when she caught sight of the blonde woman sitting at the dining table. “Ah, I see I am second best now,” Roman lamented as he carried her over to Gerri, tightening his grip when Selina tried to jump from his arms and into Gerri’s, her arms stretched out in front of her.
“How are you? Did you go to ballet?” Gerri asked, arms opened as she tried to manoeuvre Selina into her arms without either of them dropping the girl. Roman waited until Selina was sitting in Gerri’s lap before heading back out to make their martinis. “Yes, we were practising for the Nutcracker,” Selina announced, sitting with her back against the dinner table as she faced her grandmother. Lily’s eyes settled on her mother as she watched the older blonde woman run her fingers through the ends of Selina’s curls, twirling the little gold locks around the tips of her fingers, as though she might pocket a piece of it.
“Let’s get you changed, Selina,” Gerri suggested, taking in the sight of Selina’s little pink star pyjamas. “She can just stay in her PJs, don’t worry,” Lily insisted with a shake of her head. No need to stand on formalities here and she certainly wasn’t going to expect her four-year-old to dress properly to sit at the dining table. This wasn’t the Roy household.
“You sure?” Gerri asked, shifting Selina in her arms so that the girl’s head was tucked under her chin. “For sure,” Lily acknowledged, looking away as she turned her gold wedding band between her fingers.
“Are you comfortable there?” Gerri asked, feeling her bracelets move up her wrist as Selina played with the little gold charms on the end. It had been a gift from Baird. A classic little charm bracelet that had sat gathering dust in the bottom of her jewellery box for over a decade. Each little charm represented something - from the little Eiffel Tower to the sapphire and aquamarine stones to represent each of the girl’s birthdays. Perhaps Selina would have it someday. Baird would have wanted that.
“Yes, GG,” Selina answered with a contented sigh, turning each charm over as Gerri continued to run her fingers through her hair.
Roman returned a few moments later, setting down two martinis for him and Gerri, along with a third for Elise. Lily had a look in her eyes that made his shoulders tense. He might not know her as well as he wanted to, but he thought the younger woman looked to be in quiet contemplation. A far off look in her eyes. As if she wasn’t present in that moment, but in another moment decades earlier. At a different dinner table. He caught Lily’s eye, giving her a smile as he sat back down next to Gerri.
The Kellman girls would be okay. That much he was certain of.
“When is Maddie back in town?” Elise asked as she reappeared back into the dining room with the first two plates, setting them down in front of Roman and Gerri. “Wednesday,” he answered, having asked Emily to book the youngest Kellman girl’s return flight earlier that week. “Right before Matsson’s grand arrival,” Elise observed, looking at Roman over her martini glass. Part of her assumed that was deliberate. To give Gerri her crowning glory with all her family there.
“Roman,” Gerri cleared her throat, giving him a knowing look. “Yeah?” he asked, putting a forkful of beef into his mouth. “Forgetting something?” she questioned. Gerri nodded her head towards the gift bag Roman had slipped into the little alcove just outside the dining room before the entry to the living room. It was just barely visible from the dining table. “Oh, yeah, I’ve got a gift for you, spud,” Roman announced, chewing down on his meat as he got up from the tale, heading out to retrieve the gift bag.
“But it’s not my birthday,” Selina pointed out, lifting her head from Gerri’s chest as she turned around to face the man, using her hands to balance herself on her grandmother’s lap. “I have like multiple birthdays to make up for….how old are you?” Roman asked, holding the gift bag behind his back as he walked to the table. “Almost five,” she pointed out, earning a laugh from both her mothers from the other side of the table.
“Well I have that many birthdays to catch up on,” he reminded her, before holding out the gift bag for her to take. Gerri held the bottom of it steady while Selina put her arms inside the gift bag to retrieve the plush toy.
“It’s a spud!” Selina shouted, showing off her teeth as she hugged the oval-shaped plush to her chest. “Dear god,” Lily groaned, putting her head in her hands as she realised what it was. “ You know, Lils, I think it’s cute,” Elise teased, knowing that the potato plush would look out of place amongst the carefully curated rows of Jellycats and ballerina plushies that lined Selina’s bedroom shelves. “ You would, cabbage,” she countered, glaring at her wife. “ I draw the line at cabbage, thank you very much,” Elise announced, scooping up a forkful of vegetables as she tried not to smirk. Her wife was too easy to wind up.
“Rome just has a thing for nicknames,” Gerri pointed out, her fork in one hand while the other stayed wrapped around Selina to keep the child in place. “Oh, I’ve gathered that. G. Ger-bear. G-Spot,” Elise listed off, not catching the look of disgust that was creeping onto her wife’s face, her complexion turning green. “Ellie, darling, I am still in the room,” Lily whispered in a shocked voice, mortified that Roman had clearly called her mother “ G-spot” in front of Elise. “Sorry, babe,” Elise smirked, reaching over to kiss the blonde’s cheek as an apology.
“Have you made up your mind yet about Aspen?” Gerri asked, trying to hide the nervousness from her voice. Part of her had expected Lily to shoot the idea down as soon as she had suggested it. A ‘family’ getaway to Aspen for the holidays. But Lily hadn’t shot it down. All she had said was that she’d have to run it by Elise and figure out Selina’s school schedule. That was already more than Gerri had expected. “It might be good to get out of the city this Christmas,” Elise acknowledged, locking eyes with Roman across the table. New York would be hostile those first few weeks after the GoJo deal, when the media attention would still be there and when the fallout would still be raw.
“Does Santa go to ‘Spin?” Selina asked, tapping on Gerri’s hand as she lifted her head to look up at her. “Aspen,” Gerri corrected, saying the word a few more times until Selina figured out how to wrap her tongue around the ‘ asp’ of the word. “I heard the big man in the red suit loves Aspen,” Roman interrupted, looking at the girl out of the side of his eyes as he finished up his food.
“I have something for you for Aspen,” Gerri revealed, tucking a strand of Selina’s hair behind her ear as she put down her cutlery. “For me?” Selina asked, pointing at her own chest. “Yes, but it’s a surprise until we go,” Gerri insisted, not missing the way Lily raised her eyebrow at that.
“Emily got the company to put the cabin on hold. I’ll get her to put through the booking,” Roman announced, taking his phone out of his pocket as he texted his first assistant. “Will Maddie be coming as well?” Lily asked as she leaned back on her seat, observing the scene in front of her. “Yes and Erik is coming as well, his parents are spending the holidays in Dubai with his sister,” Gerri explained, realising her Christmas was suddenly going from her usual overnight stay in the Waldorf Astoria to a family affair with partners and her grandchild there. “This will be the first Christmas we’ve spent together in…. seven years?” she considered, biting down on the side of her lip as she realised just how long it had been. How many holiday seasons they had spent apart from one another.
“What about your folks, Roman?” Elise asked, sensing the need to keep the conversation rolling. Roman doubted any of them would be speaking to him by Christmas - or even the Christmas after that. “They’ve got their own plans. None of us are really big on the whole family getting together around a Christmas tree shit. Every time we do anything like that it’s like a knock-off version of the Red Wedding,” he tried to joke, shrugging his shoulders but he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“You can invite anyone from your family, Elise, the cabin has plenty of space in it,” Gerri offered, knowing they had chosen the largest of the cabins on the estate. There was a pause before the brunette answered. “This is my family, I don’t need anyone else,” she assured her with a weak smile, one that seemed poetically sad. There was a longing behind it that made Gerri feel guilty for asking the question.
She watched as the couple across from her exchanged a look that made it evident the topic was a sore point. Elise didn’t have anyone beyond Selina and Lily, that much Gerri now knew. Her father couldn’t be removed from his care facility and Gerri wondered if the man even had any concept of time. Christmas would probably be like any other day for him.
“Selina, why don’t you sit beside Mommy to let GG have some space?” Lily suggested, nodding her head to the chair at the head of the table between herself and Gerri. “She’s okay, Lily, don’t worry about it,” the older blonde insisted with a shake of her head, though Selina made no effort to move from her comfortable stop on Gerri’s lap.
Lily couldn’t think of a single occasion where she - or Maddie, for that matter - ever sat on their mother’s lap at a dinner table. Yet here she was with Selina eating off her plate, the little girl giggling every time she tried to steal the olives from her grandmother’s martini.
“I didn’t know you had a piano,” Gerri pointed out later as Elise started to stack the dinner plates. “Mom, this is your….third time in this house? Only natural that you’ve not seen it all,” Lily reminded her, eyes flickering across to the living room where her piano sat. It had been a gift from Elise for her first birthday that they had spent in the townhouse. A Yamaha N3X baby grand with its polished ebony finish and a custom burgundy leather piano stool.
“Still, it’s something I should have noticed,” Gerri countered, wondering how she had been completely oblivious to it on her two previous visits. “I took lessons again a few years ago,” Lily admitted, hands curling around the tall glass she had been sipping on throughout the meal. Gerri could smell the distinctive notes of elderflower from it. Definitely not alcohol.
“Can you play?” Roman asked, handing over his plate to Elise to stack on top of the others. “A little,” Lily shrugged, winking at Selina who yawned in her grandmother’s arms. “She plays very well,” Elise teased with a knowing smirk, standing up from the table as she gathered the plates up to take to the kitchen.
“Alright, Lydia Tár,” Roman observed as he downed the rest of his martini, setting the empty glass down. “Roman, do you only speak in movie references?” Elise asked. “Pretty much,” he paused, reaching for the little bread basket that had been placed in the centre of the table. His movie references had gotten increasingly more niche since moving in with Gerri, but he wouldn’t necessarily put that one in a niche category. “Who taught you before?” Roman asked Lily as the woman’s wife headed back towards the kitchen.
“Mom,” Lily answered, her attention shifting to the older blonde. “We had a piano at the brownstone. It had belonged to Baird’s mother,” Gerri explained, a sense of nostalgia in her voice. Perhaps sometimes she did long for that brownstone townhouse. Longed for a time when things were simpler. But that would mean ignoring the present and everything it had to offer.
“We should get a piano, Ger,” Roman suggested, his tone far more serious than Gerri would have expected. Perhaps that was what he could buy her for Christmas. An obnoxiously big piano that could sit centre place in the living room. It would be like leaving his mark on the penthouse. Make it a little more theirs. As if his toiletries sitting next to hers and his shoes being lined up in the hallway closet weren’t enough of a sign of their cohabitation.
“Where would I put a piano in the penthouse?” Gerri asked, knowing that the penthouse had just enough things in it to look lived in without looking overwhelmed. After all, she had paid someone to make it look that way. “We’ll just buy a bigger place,” he suggested with a shrug, accepting it as though it was an inevitability that they’d eventually move out of the penthouse.
Something told Lily this wasn’t the first time that topic had come up in conversation. There was an uncomfortableness in the way Gerri moved, how she seemed to sink down into her seat as though blocking out the conversation.
“You could teach Selina when she’s older,” Lily suggested, earning a quiet nod from her mother who busied herself with untangling the end of Selina’s hair. Elise took over the conversation when she came back into the dining room, switching it to talk about their travel plans for Aspen. But Lily made a mental note to quiz both her mother and Roman about their living situation at a later date, when everything had calmed down.
“Selina, why don’t you show your GG around?” Lily suggested when the conversation around the dinner table reached a comfortable silence. “I’ll go with you,” Elise suggested, setting her half-empty martini down on the table as she got up. “Elise, make sure my mother stays out of my shoe closet, please,” Lily insisted, ignoring the eye roll that was directed at her by her mother. “I haven’t forgotten that you used to steal my shoes when you were a teenager, Lils,” Gerri countered, setting Selina back down onto her own two feet before following Elise out of the room. “Yes, well, no need to start stealing mine at your big old age,” Lily reminded her, watching them leave before she held out her hand to stop Roman from going after them.
“Roman, you can help me clear these glasses,” she suggested with a knowing look, making it clear she wanted to speak to him in private. “Gotcha,” he said, gathering up his things with a nod of his head. “Let’s get these into the kitchen, then we can talk in my office,” Lily proposed, picking up two of the empty martini glasses before leading the way to the kitchen.
It turned out Lily’s office was located two doors down from the kitchen, where they made a pitstop to put the martini glasses into the dishwasher. “This is the only room in the house Selina isn’t allowed into,” Lily explained as she pushed open the heavy mahogany door, holding it open for Roman to follow her inside. “Is it where you hide the bodies?” he asked jokingly, smirking to himself as he took in the surroundings. “Figuratively speaking, yes,” Lily teased, shutting the door behind him, though she didn’t turn the lock.
This room was unlike the rest of the townhouse. It looked more…dated. Its exposed wood and dark varnish was a cosmic shift from the lightness of the other rooms. The study looked more something he would have expected a man to have with its antique furniture and blackwatch tartan armchair. He would have expected his father to have a study like that…or rather, Lily’s father.
If he looked at the brown leather seat behind the wooden writing desk, he could imagine Baird sitting there - smoking the pipe Roman had always seen him with at Roy family parties. Because smoking a cigarette was too common for a man like Baird Kellman.
“Didn’t realise I was at the Kennedy compound,” he observed, stopping in the middle of the room as Lily made her way around to the writing desk by the window. “Uhm, oh, the decor. It came like this. It reminded me of my dad’s old study so I thought I’d keep it. This room is… comforting at times when I wish he was here,” she confessed, pausing to look at one of the silver picture frames on the desk, something flickering in her eyes, before she opened the top drawer.
“How’s your Hugo hunt going?” Lily asked, wanting to delicately navigate away from the topic of her father as she started to look through the folders in the drawer. “Nick has found a gold mine of shit in the company’s private server. All sitting in the classified section. He’s working his way through it but he’ll have a folder together for me before Friday,” Roman explained, thinking back to his meeting with his second assistant the day earlier. It seemed like there was enough there to sink Hugo with.
“I went through Dad’s files, like I told you. There’s an entire dossier on Hugo,” she announced, holding up the file that had Hugo’s name printed along the side.
Lily didn’t tell Roman that she had seen the folder with his name on it. She had tucked it away into the safe - to stop it from walking off, rather than keeping it as ammunition. He was part of the family now - that meant he had to be protected, from whatever folly he might have committed in his formative years. She had made a point of taking the folder with Logan’s name as well. Though that was ammunition. In case Logan decided to retaliate someday. A copy of it now sat in the safety deposit box she shared with Elise.
Just in case.
“I’ve got records dating back to the ‘80s of him redirecting funds into his personal accounts. I haven’t done the maths but it’s at least fifteen million over the last thirty years - probably more,” she explained, handing the folder over to him.
“Do you really think we can pull this off?” Roman asked, leaning his elbow down on top of the mantle, watching as Lily paced around the room as he opened the folder. She moved the same way Gerri did when she was deep in thought, arms folded and her head down, twirling at a loose strand of hair. Roman had often wondered if that was a childhood habit, a nervous tic that Gerri had picked up somewhere between elementary school and law school. Seeing it manifest in Lily seemed to confirm his suspicions.
“Rome was not built in a day, but it can certainly fall in a day,” Lily mused, her heels coming to a stop against the wooden floor.
If only Lily knew just how far it would fall in a day. How Logan Roy’s empire would be cut in half and sold off like the last remnants of the Tsar.
“Fuck, I need a drink - and a fucking cigarette,” Lily groaned, a frustration in her voice that seemed unexpected to Roman. “Want me to get you something?” he offered, walking across the study to the dresser where a whisky decanter sat. It looked as old as Lily herself. Perhaps it had been Baird’s, maybe even a wedding gift of her parents’. Lily looked to be the sentimental sort, especially where her father was concerned.
Roman could understand that. He had found himself watching his father more than usual. Perhaps because he had pre-grieved the inevitable loss of the giant of a man who was his father. Logan would cast him out of the family, brand him as Judas, and treat him as dead when this was all said and done. When the betrayal was complete.
“No, it’s fine, I can’t,” Lily sighed, hands on her hip as she started pacing once more. “I’ll drink one for you then,” Roman suggested, grabbing the whisky bottle by its neck before he poured another serving into his glass.
“We need to figure things out. Like when Shiv comes banging on the door, what then? She’s not going to take well to mom as CEO,” she reminded him, folding her arms as she came to a stop by the fireplace. “Well, tough shit,” Roman muttered, letting the whisky burn the back of his throat as he walked towards Lily. “Shiv’s the least of our problems,” he insisted, knowing that his sister’s bark had always been worse than her bite. And it seemed like Tom would be kept on in a C-suite capacity. Heck, Tom would probably take the COO job once he quit. That would keep Shiv at least partly in line.
“Do you think your dad will pull a stunt?” Lily questioned, eyes wide as though fearing that his answer would confirm her concerns. “I think we’ll be lucky if we all get out of there without being slapped, frankly,” Roman acknowledged, eyes fixed on the amber liquor in his glass.
He would have to speak to the Head of Security before Matsson’s arrival. It seemed inevitable that someone would have to escort Logan out of the building once the deal was done. The champagne reception that had been planned for afterwards would have one less attendee.
“Let him slap me, I’ll sue his ass,” Lily hissed, earning a chuckle in response from her companion. “I think you’d be bailing Elise out for GBH if he slapped you,” he reminded her, taking another sip of his whisky to off-set the heavy dose of reality this conversation was giving him.
He had seen just how protective Elise was of her wife. But what would he do if it was Gerri? Part of him thought he would be inevitably frozen in fear, the way he always seemed to be under his father’s demonic gaze. But maybe not now. Not after everything they had been through.
“Touché,” Lily agreed, turning on her heel as she picked up the folder that Roman had sat down earlier. The dossier her father had put together of Hugo’s dirty dealings. “I’ll make sure you have a copy of this,” she announced, before returning the folder back to the top drawer and locking it. “Best we get back,” she suggested, holding the office door open for him, watching as he finished his whisky before carrying the empty glass out with him.
Elise stepped out of the kitchen as Lily shut the office door. Roman got the immediate impression that she had been waiting around for them to finish. “Roman, can you come look at something in the library with me?” Elise asked, folding her hands in front of her to keep her poker face in place. “Sure, Elise,” he agreed, handing his empty whisky glass over to Lily. “Lils, I think Selina’s half-asleep already, she’s with Gerri in the lounge,” Elise added, smiling at her wife as the younger blonde stepped around her to head into the kitchen, stopping for a brief moment to kiss her cheek. “I’ll go check on her,” Lily said, before disappearing down the hallway into the kitchen.
Roman followed behind Elise into the library. It seemed as though that was Elise’s office, if the stack of Ward Inc. branded folders were anything to go off. The room had the same warm, inviting colour palette as the rest of the house. A series of hardcover books lined the first of the bookcases, but the bottom shelves all seemed to be more like children’s books. Probably left there to be in easy reach of the townhouse’s youngest occupant. “Hold on,” Elise cautioned as she held her hand out to stop him from speaking, crossing the study towards the speakers sitting near the door. She pressed play on the CD, turning the volume up on the speakers before directing him to the dark green sofa by the window.
Roman recognised the music as Elgar’s Cello Concerto. Only because one of Caroline’s cousins used to insist on playing it at every family event - although it was at least played correctly on that recording. He could still hear the screeching of the cello bow against the strings when his mother’s cousin would drop a note.
“My wife is too curious for her own good sometimes, this will make it a little harder for her to eavesdrop,” Elise explained as Roman sat himself down on the sofa, while she stayed standing near the window. “So you’ve not told her yet?” he asked, suspecting Lily would have mentioned it earlier if she knew anything about Elise’s plan. “I fear I’ll have to soon,” Elise confessed, though part of her wished she could keep her in the dark. As much in the dark about all this as Gerri.
“But part of me wishes I could just tell her after the fact. Not leave her to worry for the next 6 days about whether we can do this or not,” she continued, having not told her wife anything about their plan or the events that had led up to it. Lily didn’t need to know what Logan had done, even if she was told about the plan. No good would come from Lily knowing about the private investigator or the photographs.
“Has there been any sign that they’ve been followed this week?” Roman asked, picking at a loose thread on the armchair of the sofa. This all felt like a string unwinding. As if he was about to tug it just enough for the whole thing to fall apart. Six days. That’s how long was left. Six days then they’d pull the rug right out from under Logan’s feet.
“There was a photographer near the school gates on Wednesday. I had a guy pay him off,” Elise explained with a certain satisfaction in her voice that told Roman it hadn’t happened again. “You have ‘a guy’ who pays people off?” he questioned, eyes narrow as he thought through the consequences of that.
“Everyone needs a fixer,” Elise shrugged, leaning back against the window sill as she cradled her freshly poured martini in one hand. Roman wondered if perhaps he needed a fixer. Maybe that was what Nick was. He’d have to find something for Nick after he resigned. Maybe his budding second assistant could come with him - for whatever was next. But would Nick go without Nancy?
“How’s everything going with Matsson?” Elise questioned, putting the conversation back on track. “It’s going . He seems quieter than usual. Everything is being done via lawyers and assistants,” he explained, thinking of how irritated Emily had been by the 325 emails she had woken up to on Wednesday morning from Mattson’s team. “How’s it going on your side?” he asked a moment later.
“I know a fair few people at the SEC, didn’t take much convincing,” Elise smiled, another chess piece put meticulously into place. “It also helps that your father isn’t exactly popular with them,” she added, having come up against no resistance during her meetings with the SEC. Logan Roy had made plenty of enemies over the years. All of whom were more than willing to leverage their positions against him now. “I don’t think he’s popular with anyone right now,” Roman agreed, wondering if even Shiv could put up with their father right now.
“I’m going to start reaching out to the board this week, I think they’ll be easy to get on side,” Elise explained, though she suspected they’d be even more willing to jump to her tune than the SEC had been. They all had their grievances with Logan and they were smart enough to know a good offer when they saw one. “You think?” Roman asked, thinking back to those uncomfortable board meetings where he had always felt like a kid sitting at the adult’s table.
“Self-preservation, Roman. That’s all people like that care about,” she reminded him, her voice dropping a little as though this had been a little pearl that had been rolling around in the back of her head. The idea of self-preservation. Part of her wondered what Logan would do. Would he try to sacrifice his children in some eleventh-hour prayer to the gods? She had always seen that Agamemnon quality in him. Self-preservation had gotten Logan Roy this far but it would not get him a step further.
“Our self-preservation is different though,” she continued, crossing the room towards the photographs that lined the mantle across from the bookcases. Roman could make out Lily’s face in one of them. Her blonde curls tied back in a tight twist, a bouquet in one hand and heels in the other. The strapless white dress gave away where it was from. Their wedding day. “Is it?” he asked, looking away from the photograph before its occupant could shift into a blue-eyed blonde. Before he could stare at it long enough to picture Gerri there instead of Lily.
“We’re not doing it for ourselves. Not anymore,” Elise reminded him, a look of understanding being exchanged between them.
This was what best served their interests.
Outside of the study, Lily had made her way through to the lounge, lingering in the hallway when she spotted her mother and Selina just ahead of her. The carpet silenced the click clacking of her heels, giving her a few seconds to hang back in the shadows. She had taken the initiative of making her mother another martini. Things seemed to go over better when there was at least one martini involved.
“And this is the lounge,” Selina announced, standing in the middle of the main living room in the townhouse, her spud plush tucked under one arm and her elephant teddy in the other. “What do you do in here?” Gerri asked, sitting herself down on the end of the corner chaise that sat out from the wall. “We watch movies. Mama likes the ones that aren’t in colour,” Selina giggled, pointing to the large flatscreen TV in the corner of the room. Gerri could see the stack of DVDs under it. Plenty of Hitchock, a few Katharine Hepburn movies, and most of Myrna Loy’s filmography.
“You got the grand tour then?” Lily questioned, clearing her throat as she stepped into the lounge, heading down the three little steps that separated it from the hallway. “Yes, I had an excellent tour guide,” Gerri praised, holding out her hand to help Selina get up onto the sofa beside her. “Well, you have an even better bartender,” Lily announced, carrying the freshly made martini over towards the sofa, setting it down on the wooden sideboard next to the armrest.
Gerri mouthed a ‘ thank you’, but she couldn’t take the martini right away. “You have an entire room full of seats to choose from and you decide to sit there,” she joked, leaning back against the plush cushions as Selina climbed up over her, returning to the same position she had been sitting in when they were in the dining room.
“You’re comfy, that’s why,” Selina yawned, head down against Gerri’s chest as she curled up on her lap. “She gets very clingy when she’s tired,” Lily explained, sitting herself down onto the armchair across from them. “Are you comfortable there?” Gerri asked, tilting her head down as she ran her fingers through Selina’s hair so that she could see the girl’s face. “Yes, I'm going to sleep now,” Selina announced between yawns, her head curled up under Gerri’s chin as she closed her eyes.
There was a peaceful silence that fell over the trio. Elise’s music added a white noise that gave the moment a sense of familiarity that startled Gerri a little.
Here she was on a Saturday night with a 4-year old curled up on her chest with a martini in hand and her once estranged daughter sitting across from her. What parallel universe was she living in? The one that seemed to have started that day in Italy when Roman lied to his father and set them on this impossible course.
“Let me get you a blanket,” Lily offered, getting up from her seat to retrieve a blanket from the ottoman across the room. “What’s she listening to?” Gerri asked, hearing Selina’s breathing even out as she fell into a peaceful sleep. Out like a light. Just like Maddie at that age. Capable of sleeping just about anywhere.
“Elgar’s Cello Concerto,” Lily replied, eyes fixed on her wife through the french doors that separated the lounge from the study. “It helps her think,” she explained, hearing the cello notes floating through from the other room as she headed back for the sofa with the blanket in hand.
“Is she doing a lot of thinking these days?” Gerri asked, not able to stop herself from making the comparison with Roman. He had been thinking a lot these days - and there was something about the two of them conspiring in that study together that brought her back to the early days of Logan and Baird. “I suppose so,” Lily mused, handing off the blanket.
Gerri tucked the side of the blanket under Selina’s arm, pausing as the girl wiggled in her arms before going still again. Lily had gone back to standing on the other side of the room, her eyes fixed on the brunette in the study. She had seen that expression on Lily’s face reflected in her own face enough times to know what it was.
Suspicion.
“What’s going on, Lily?” Gerri questioned, keeping her voice even as if she wasn’t asking a loaded question. “What do you mean, mom?” Lily paused, turning around to face her mother as the colour started to drain from her face. As if she had been caught out on a secret. “With you, with all of this. I know you’re keeping a secret from me,” Gerri pointed out, finally getting it off her chest after letting it bubble away all evening.
But it quickly became apparent that she had hit the wrong tone.
“Jesus, Mom,” Lily snapped, the shock evident in her face as Gerri realised she had somehow picked up Roman’s habit of putting his foot in his mouth. “What?” she questioned, eyes wide as she tried to figure out what had caused Lily’s knee jerk reaction.
“I thought you would at least…I don’t know…wait for it to happen before expecting me to tell you,” Lily insisted, hands on her hips as Gerri wondered for a second if her daughter might just be on the verge of tears. “I mean, there’s no guarantee it will even work. And I’m too dosed up on FSH to deal with this conversation,” she wobbled, lip quivering as she shook her head, blinking back the tears as she tried to keep her voice low to not wake Selina up.
Shit.
So Lily thought she was talking about fertility treatments and not…whatever else was going on. Yep. She had definitely inherited Roman’s foot-in-mouth syndrome.
“All I do is want to cry all day. What the fuck am I going to be like when I am pregnant?” Lily whispered, eyes wide as her hands shaked, sitting herself back down on the edge of the armchair. Gerri took a sip of her martini to shake off the guilt that was hanging over her now. That was her out of the running for redeemed mother of the year.
“Probably eating pickles like they’re about to go out of fashion,” Gerri offered, hoping to find a way to mend the bridge she had just unceremoniously blown up. “Is that what you craved with me?” Lily asked, reaching over to take a tissue from the ottoman as she tried to fix her makeup. “No - with you it was pomegranate seeds. It was pickles with Maddie,” Gerri explained, smirking to herself as she thought of the rows upon rows of pickles that had filled the fridge in the brownstone the summer she was pregnant with Maddie. Not that she had ever put a pickle in her mouth since then.
“Sweet and sour. No wonder we’re so different,” Lily observed, tapping the tissue under her eyes to fix her mascara.
Lily had been Gerri’s little shadow, from before she was even Selina’s age. Madeline had taken after their father. Two different sides of the same coin. Sweet and sour.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you. I keep doing that at the minute, I just…” Lily paused, fiddling with the clasp of her watch as she shook her head. “There's a lot of noise in my head right now. Between it all,” she confessed, leaning forward as she rested her elbows on her thighs, trying to catch her breath again.
Gerri sat the martini glass down on the armrest of the sofa, keeping it steady with her fingers on the stem. “We’re here for you. Roman and I both are - and your sister as well,” she promised, knowing now that she needed to step up. “Thank you,” Lily acknowledged, watching as her mother twirled the ends of Selina’s hair around her fingertips.
“If you ever need us to look after Selina or just…to do anything,” Gerri offered with a shrug, wondering if it was normal to suddenly find yourself re-learning motherhood at the age of sixty. “If I leave her at your apartment again, she’ll come back with that fucking tortoise, I know it,” Lily joked, letting out a low laugh that made it seem that she had at least forgiven Gerri for her bluntness earlier.
“Roman’s more attached to Horus than you might think,” Gerri pointed out, once more nursing her martini in her hand.
She had found him on more than one morning in the last week sitting talking to the tortoise. As if Horus could answer him back. She knew herself that the old tortoise could be an unlikely therapist at hard times. How often had she sat on the floor of her study with a martini in hand talking to herself? Well, talking to Horus.
Perhaps she should let Roman get a dog. Someday when they’d swap the penthouse for something a little bigger. Somewhere big enough for a tortoise and a dog. Somewhere with a garden for Selina to run around and enough guest rooms for the ever-extending Kellman-Ward-Roy contingent.
“How are you two doing anyway?” Lily asked, keen to move the topic away from her own home life for a minute. “Well, we’re moving in together. Officially that is,” Gerri announced, sipping on her martini as she sunk down into the sofa. “Mom, you’ve been living together for months. Just because you’re deciding to admit it now, doesn’t mean it wasn’t true before,” Lily pointed out, her teasing tone making it clear that she was unconvinced by her mother’s version of events. “Touché,” Gerri agreed, knowing it was easier to simply admit to it.
“At least it’s official now. Life’s too short. Call a spade a spade,” Lily sighed, sitting back on the sofa as she curled up against the armrest. “Are you speaking from experience?” Gerri asked, wondering when it was that her eldest daughter had suddenly become so wise. “I suppose you can say that I am. Elise and I danced around each other for a while. It took me some time to finally put a label on it,” she confessed, looking down at her engagement ring as the stone sparkled in the warm light of the lounge.
“You’ve put a few labels on it now,” Gerri acknowledged, nodding her head down towards the sleeping child in her arms. Lily turned on the armchair, shifting towards the edge of her seat as she thought back to her mother’s earlier reaction.
“Mom, you thought something else was going on, didn’t you? Other than the baby stuff,” she observed, convinced now that her mother had been asking about something else. “Lily,” Gerri shook her head, not sure if it was wise to open that can of worms now. “Because I think there’s something going on as well,” Lily admitted, looking up at Gerri with that suspicious gaze once more.
One person thinking something was up could be written off as paranoia. Two people made it a conspiracy theory.
“What do you mean?” Gerri asked, shifting Selina in her arms as she picked up her martini again. “There’s been lawyers in and out of the place all week. Elise’s personal team, not the company’s. She’s barely slept and I keep finding her up to her eyes in paperwork. Elise never does the paperwork, not unless it’s serious enough that it needs her or her father’s signature,” Lily explained, standing from her seat as she started pacing around the lounge.
This was more than just the Hugo shenanigans. Something else was brewing in the distance.
“Do you think Roman and Elise are up to something?” she asked, convinced now that this was what her mother had tried to ask her about originally. “I can’t think of what though. I know Roman is thinking about what he wants to do after Waystar but I wouldn’t imagine he’s able to think about anything until after Matsson signs the paperwork on Friday,” Gerri pondered, growing more and more suspicious that Roman was going to draw a line under his time at the company once the deal was done. “I’ll let you know if I find anything out, though,” she added, finishing off her martini, letting Lily take the glass from her.
The younger blonde sat the empty glass onto the side dresser, taking up her pacing once more as she made her way over to the window. “Can I…can I ask you a question?” she paused, not feeling like she could look her mother in the eye for this conversation. “Go for it,” Gerri insisted, turning her head to look at her eldest daughter. “What would Dad have thought?” Lily paused, biting down on the side of her lip as she fidgeted with her wedding band. “Of what?” Gerri asked, sitting up a little on the sofa, careful not to wake Selina as she moved the girl with her.
“All of it. You being CEO. Roman. Me being gay - oh, god, and being married to someone like Elise. And Maddie being half-way around the world most of the year,” Lily pondered, not sure what her father would have thought of any of it, let alone all of it happening. “Baird only ever wanted you to be happy,” Gerri reminded her, confident that her husband would have known what to say at that moment. He would have stood up to the challenge and have said something that would have made Lily laugh and forget about all her worries. Then he probably would have had a heart attack about Roman and be back six-feet under again.
“When Dad was sick, before the heart attack, that time he had a scare and ended up in hospital….” Lily paused, pulling at the end of her hair the same way she had done as a little girl. “He told me to make sure you had a happy life, when he was gone,” she continued, folding her arms in front of her as she turned to face her mother, walking towards the sofa. “Guess I failed at that, at least for a few years,” she admitted in a low voice, the guilt consuming her all over again.
“None of that matters now, Lils,” Gerri assured her, her fingers drawing little stars on the back of Selina’s pyjama top as Lily sat down next to them on the edge of the sofa. “Doesn’t it?” Lily asked, watching Selina sleep in grandmother’s arms for the first time. “Things are different now. You and I are in different places. We’re different people now,” Gerri pointed out, thinking of just how unrecognisable everything was from only a few months earlier. Ever since Italy, things had been different.
“Still have the same battle scars, though,” Lily said woefully, knowing they had both inflicted their fair share of scars on the other. “Time heals all wounds,” Gerri countered, reaching her free hand out to squeeze Lily’s shoulder as the younger woman once more seemed to be on the verge of tears.
Healing couldn’t turn back time. Wouldn’t give her the chance to marry Elise again with Gerri there. Couldn’t change things so that her mother would have been there when they took Selina home for the first time. But she could make sure Gerri was there when she’d bring the next one home.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Lily whispered, covering Gerri’s hand as she moved it off her arm to link their fingers together, placing their joint hands on her lap. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Gerri promised, knowing this had to be where they drew the line in the sand once and for all.
Lily nodded her head, looking up to the ceiling as she took a shaky breath. “For whatever it’s worth, we’ll be here to support you with whatever happens after this deal with Matsson goes through,” she assured her mother, part of her suspecting that it was that very deal with Matsson that was at the heart of whatever was going on with Elise and Roman. “What would you like to see happen, once the ink dries?” she asked, surprised at the fact it was the first time she had asked her mother what she actually wanted.
Gerri found herself struggling to come up with an answer. What did she want? That suddenly felt like an impossible question. Before it was all so straight forward. Up, up, and up the career ladder. No distractions - children included. “I don’t know, Lils,” she admitted, holding Selina just a little tighter.
“You’re not thinking of retiring, are you?” Lily asked, having always assumed her mother would go the same way as her father. In her office at Waystar with Logan’s boot in her neck. “Oh god, no. Not yet,” Gerri protested, feeling her heartbeat in her ears at the very idea of accepting the ‘r’ word into her life.
“I mean, Waystar is going to be so different with Matsson around,” Lily observed, though perhaps a sudden switch to a more European way of life might keep her mother at the company even longer. “In five years’ time, maybe. I just…I think all the sacrifices have to be worth something and I’d like a bash at a C-suite job again. Whatever way the top table will look with Matsson in charge,” Gerri explained, finally letting herself think it all through for a minute. She couldn’t bow out. At least not yet.
“That makes sense,” Lily nodded, as though trying to slot that into her own ten year plan. “Means I can try and finish my career on a high then retire. Maybe do some consultancy work,” Gerri suggested, knowing that there was no way she was hanging up her professional hat indefinitely. She wasn’t going to suddenly cash in a ‘ senior citizens’ discount and live off her pension. That was one sure way to drive herself insane within the first year.
“Maybe become Mary Poppins,” Lily teased, nodding her head down at the sleeping child in her mother’s arms. “Never say never,” Gerri joked, looking down at Selina as she rested her hand flat against her back. “She’s out like a light,” Gerri observed, listening to the girl’s steady breathing as Selina’s chest rose and fell in time with her own.
“Why don’t you tuck her in?” Lily suggested, slightly unnerved but how startled her mother looked at that idea. As if she hadn’t been expecting such an offer. “You’d let me do that?” Gerri asked, subconsciously loosening her grip on the little girl.
How many times had she been there to tuck Lily into bed? Every night had virtually been the same routine. She’d stop by her daughters’ bedrooms when she’d get home from work and stand at the door, watching them sleep. It was always one of the nannies who had tucked them into bed. Yet here she was thirty years later, about to tuck her granddaughter into bed.
“You’re her GG,” Lily reminded her as she stood up from the sofa, offering her mother a hand to get up. “I’ll show you up, I’ve got to check something anyway,” she suggested, helping Gerri up before leading the way up to the third floor of the townhouse, holding the door open to the pink painted bedroom before disappearing down the hallway.
The bedroom was exactly as Gerri had imagined it would be. As if fifty shades of pink had thrown up around the room, rows of dolls lining the bookcases that held everything from Peter Rabbit stories to picture books. The duvet had already been pushed back, making it easier for her to tuck Selina in, putting her two little plush toys down next to her pillow.
She stayed bent down next to the bed for a few minutes, looking at the little trinkets that lined the bedside cabinet. There was a snow globe with ballet slippers inside, Selina’s initials engraved on the front in a gold cursive font. The tube of Chanel lip gloss looked suspiciously as though it had sneaked out of Lily’s handbag with the help of a devious four-year old.
Gerri’s eyes froze on the picture in the little silver frame at the back. For a moment, one brief fleeting moment, she had thought it was another photo. The one that sat next to the Callas and Di Stefano record in her study, tilted at an angle so that she couldn’t see it when she walked into the room. For years she had avoided looking at it, avoiding stepping back in time to when she still saw the world through rose-tinted glasses.
But the subject of this photo was Lily and Selina. It was in black and white, the bundle of blankets pushed down so that the baby’s face was visible. Lily was curled up in a tall armchair with Selina cradled in her arms, her attention on the little girl’s sleeping face
She never realised until now that she and Lily shared the same smile. The way it pulled at their cheeks, their eyes brightening as their lips curved out just a little.
The two photos were almost mirror images of each other. If she turned her head at just the right angle, Gerri could imagine it was her and Lily in that picture. It had been her and Lily in another life. In another photo that she hadn’t been able to look at in almost five years.
“GG,” Selina mumbled as she woke up from her sleep, blue eyes staring up at Gerri as she turned to look at the girl. “You’re meant to be asleep, Missy,” Gerri tutted, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Lily had always done that too. Woke up right as everyone else thought she was fast asleep - always right before she was put into bed.
“Hair needs brushing. Mama brushes my hair before I go to bed,” Selina explained as she pushed back the covers, yawning as she stretched out her arms. “I could do it…if you’d like?” she asked, suddenly unsure of herself at doing something as simple as brushing her granddaughter’s hair.
Selina nodded as she rubbed her eyes, yawning as she trailed out of bed, her plush elephant still in one hand, the spud plush in the other as she walked to the vanity near the bed. The row of hairbrushes and products made it evident that the vanity was used everyday.
Gerri sat herself down on the stool, catching her reflection in the mirror as Selina made herself comfortable on her lap, picking up the hair brush with the softest bristles.
“Now, tell me if it’s gentle enough,” Gerri said, starting at the back of the girl’s head as she slowly moved the brush through her hair. “I count them,” the girl yawned, tapping her fingers on top of the white vanity. Selina counted all the way up to 64 before Gerri called it quits. Until every strand of blonde hair was smooth, free of the knots that seemed to live in the girl’s curls.
Gerri rested her forehead against the crown of Selina’s head as the little girl yawned once more. Her hair smelt of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo, the floral aroma acting like a time machine back to another life, to another little blonde haired girl in a brownstone almost thirty years ago.
Gerri had made her choice. Made it long before Lily or Madeline were anything more than a twinkle in Baird’s eye.
She had always thought she had been okay with that decision. That it had been worth it.
But had it? Was it still worth it?
Did she even want it anymore? No post-acquisition high had ever made her feel like this. Never made her feel as content and at peace as she did now.
She could walk away now with more money than she’d ever need and the freedom to make her name on the speaker circuit. But then what would it have all been for? It had to amount to something. “Now, you need to sleep,” Gerri announced, as much to herself as the girl in her arms.
She would sleep on it. Lay awake staring at the ceiling as if some divine inspiration would intervene and give her the right answer.
“Okay, GG,” Selina yawned, slipping off her grandmother’s lap as she made her way back into her bed, curling up under her blanket with her plush teddies under her arms. “Goodnight,” Gerri said as she bent down next to the girl’s bed, reaching over to tuck her blonde hair behind her ear. “I love you, little star,” she told her, pressing a kiss to her middle and index finger before placing them on her cheek. “Love you,” Selina mumbled, her eyes already closing.
She was asleep by the time Gerri had finished putting her hair brush away and tidying up the vanity beside the girl’s bed.
The bedroom door creaked open, Roman’s voice sounding through the shadows of the hallway. “Ready to go, G? Fredrick’s waiting outside,” he whispered, holding the door open as Gerri crossed the room towards him. “Spud asleep?” he asked as the door gently shut behind him, mindful of the sleeping child inside. “With her new toy,” Gerri nodded, leading him down the hallway so that they wouldn’t wake her up.
“Knew that would happen,” Roman smirked, knowing he had knocked it out of the park with that choice of gift. “That was very sweet of you, Rome,” Gerri smiled, still surprised that he had managed to buy it without her even realising it. “Ah, well, what can I say? The kid’s a charmer,” he joked, nudging his elbow against Gerri’s as they came to a stop at the end of the hallway.
“You are not teaching her how to ski, by the way,” she scolded, her mind going back to their conversation the night before at dinner when Aspen had inevitably come up. Roman had insisted he would teach Selina how to ski - the same way Connor had taught him how to.
“Come on, Ger, it’ll be fun,” Roman whined, his hand coming to rest on the curve of her waist as he leaned a little closer. Perhaps it was the several martinis and whiskies making him more relaxed or the simple domesticity of it all. “It’ll be all fun and games until you break a leg on the slopes,” Gerri countered, tapping her index finger against the centre of his chest.
“You can be my nurse then. Oh , that would be hot. I should buy you a nurse’s costume and everything,” he teased, letting out a low whistle as he let that idea take root in the back of his brain. “You’re incorrigible, Roman Roy,” Gerri shook her head, laughing as she felt the tension lift from her shoulders, though the voice in her head kept reminding her that he was up to something. “Come on, Ger. We’ve all had that fantasy,” he taunted, taking another step closer as Gerri felt herself step back, almost coming into contact with the wall behind her.
“You do realise my hallway echoes, right?” Elise announced, her voice floating up the stairs from the downstairs hallway. “Shit,” Roman muttered under his breath, remembering where they were as he stepped back, letting Gerri head down the stairs before him, leading the way down to the ground floor where Elise was waiting for them by the front door.
“Sorry,” Gerri apologised to Elise, turning her head as she heard the familiar click-clacking of her daughter’s heels across the wooden floor. Only Lily would still be wearing stilettos at 10pm on a Saturday night. “I promised your assistants I would send them a batch next time Elise made them,” Lily explained, holding out the tupperware container of cookies to Roman.
“I’ll use these to bribe them into actually doing some work,” he joked, nodding his thanks as he made a mental note to keep some of them in the penthouse. Maybe he could have one as a midnight snack if the martini and whiskies didn’t lull him to sleep.
“It was lovely to have you both here,” Elise smiled, her arm wrapped around Lily’s waist as Roman helped Gerri into her coat, stepping back as she did up the buttons and belt. “It was fun, but in Aspen we’ll make it even better,” he joked, conscious of the fact that Aspen would be a post-deal retreat as much as it would be a so-called ‘family vacation’.
“I’ll make sure to pack the good vodka,” Elise acknowledged as Roman made his way to the front door. “Fredrick’s outside, Ger,” he reminded her, waving goodbye to the other couple before making his exit.
“Goodnight, Lily,” Gerri acknowledged, stepping forward to hug her daughter. “Night, Mom,” Lily whispered, feeling her mother squeeze her a little tighter than usual. As if she suddenly realised they were now the same height. That the cruel hands of time had kept their dutiful march in years they were apart. “Give Selina a kiss for me,” Gerri requested, dropping a kiss on her daughter’s cheek before pulling back, wiping away the lipstick mark she had left behind.
“Text me when you get home,” Lily insisted, dropping her mother’s hands as she took a step back.
Gerri hovered at the door for a moment. This was all starting to feel… normal. The domesticity of it all. A Saturday evening spent at her daughter’s home, tucking her granddaughter into bed, planning a family vacation for the holidays.
The normality of it all scared her. Perhaps more than she was willing to admit.
Maybe she would wake up and the rug would be pulled out from under her. Lily would be gone. Selina would be gone. Roman would be gone. Rome. She wouldn’t be standing in Lily’s home if it hadn’t been for him.
All of this had been built on a lie. But had it been a lie?
In every other universe, this doesn’t work. But in this universe? In this impossible moment in time. It works.
“Come on, Ger, I’m freezing my balls out here!” Roman called from the sidewalk, where he stood holding open the door of the car for her. That was enough to bring Gerri back to her senses.
Lily waited for the door to shut behind her mother before she spoke.
She had seen enough to know that she was right. To confirm her suspicions that something was going on.
“What are you up to?” Lily asked, following her wife towards the lounge, finally stepping out of her heels, leaving them behind her in the hallway. “What do you mean, dearest?” she shrugged, though her answer was all the confirmation Lily needed.
Elise only ever called her ‘dearest’ when she wanted something or when she needed to repent. Lily was willing to bet their house on it being the latter.
“You and Roman are up to something. Don’t lie to me, Elise,” Lily protested, folding her arms as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. “Darling,” Elise sighed, contemplating whether Roman had jinxed her. Lily knew - or at the very least, suspected - that something was up.
“You’ve had lawyers in and out of this house all week. Now, I know you’re not divorcing me,” Lily insisted, taking on the tone she usually reserved for difficult clients.
Elise snorted at that. They hadn’t signed a prenup, much to the dismay of almost every single person Elise knew. But she had every intention of sticking to each syllable of her wedding wows.
“So it has to be something business related and you never bring work home unless it’s on a deadline. What’s going on, Ellie?” She asked, stepping closer to her wife, who looked away from her.
Lily only ever called her ‘Ellie’ when she wanted something or was apologising. Elise knew it was the former this time.
“Let’s get you a drink, Lily,” Elise suggested, turning around towards the bar cart, mindlessly putting together the ingredients for a dirty martini. “I’m not drinking right now, you know that,” Lily reminded her through gritted teeth, having rejected at least six martinis over the course of the evening. “You’re going to need it,” Elise insisted as she slipped the olives into the glass, her back still to her wife.
That set alarm bells ringing.
“Oh, Ellie, what have you done?” Lily cried, pinching the bridge of her nose. Something clicked in Lily’s brain then.
“It’s something to do with GoJo and Matsson isn’t it? That’s why you keep making these long-distance calls, it’s why you’re working so early in the morning,” she theorised, watching as Elise’s shoulders visibly tensed as she straightened her back.
Checkmate.
“I have a plan. Trust me,” Elise insisted, finally conceding the fact that she would have to tell her wife what was about to happen. “And that is what exactly?” Lily pushed, stepping around the bar cart so that she could see her wife’s face.
“You know how I put your wedding present on ice?” Elise mused, twisting the bottle in her hands open. “Well, yes, but I don’t see how that fits into all this,” Lily acknowledged with a shake of her head as she watched her wife put a heavy pour of Grey Goose into the shaker.
Elise had claimed a dozen different things as her ‘wedding present’. Virtually every time they went anywhere and Elise wanted to buy her a gift.
“ATN,” Elise announced, snapping Lily back to the present. “What about it?” She asked, confused by the relevance of Logan Roy’s broadcasting network. “That’s your present. ATN and half of Waystar’s publishing division,” Elise continued calmly, as though having simply told Lily she had made dinner reservations at the Italian down the street. Not that she had just committed billions of Ward Inc. dollars to settle a decades old family feud.
“Elise, you’re mad, how on Earth….?” Lily paused, eyes virtually bulging out of her head as she leaned forward. “Now drink up, like a good girl, because we have work to do,” Elise instructed, tipping the bottom of the martini glass a little as she brought it to her wife’s lips.
Lily gulped down the first sip of her martini - and the second for good measure.
Elise cut right to the chase then. After the first few sips of martini took the edge off. Went through every step of the plan. Explained how everything had been lined up to ensure the deal’s secrecy until the very last minute.
The GoJo stocks and dividends would be held in a trust for Selina and any other children they might have. The grandchildren of Baird Kellman would inherit parts of the company he had put his blood, swear, and tears into. The company that had put him in an early grave and robbed him of ever meeting those grandchildren.
Gerri would be CEO. Roman would walk away - from the company and his father. Elise would finish what her father had started. Lily would put Baird’s ghost to rest.
And the poison wouldn’t drip through.
Notes:
The Ides of March are coming.
Chapter 25: Et tu, Romulus?
Summary:
This is it. The end.
Notes:
Well, well. Here we are. The end. This is the longest chapter of the fic, to the surprise of no one. It could have been a lot longer, but I doubt anyone would read a chapter over 20k words.
Thank you for following along on this journey and sticking with it as it evolved from its original concept into this. The barbie dolls and I appreciate it. A very special thank you to Cara, for putting up with my ten-minute long voice notes about this fic and proofreading every chapter for me. If you enjoyed this fic, you’ll love Stardust - which coincidentally also got its final chapter today. You can read it here.
The epilogue chapter for TLWT is coming sometime in the new year, but this fic is now officially finished. HOWEVER…there is a “wtf happened in Japan?” prequel coming (eventually!), based on the Japan lore in this fic, specifically chapter 4, and a one shot series. So, you don’t have to say goodbye to these characters and their relationships just yet.
Lady Macbeth, take it away…
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roman hadn’t slept. He had laid awake staring at the ceiling, counting the fleur-de-lis engraved on the white paint the same way he used to count sheep as a kid. He knew Gerri had drifted in and out of a disturbed sleep, trying her best to act as though she hadn’t. He was always able to tell when she woke up. He had spent long enough watching her sleep to know the signs. The way her breathing would change and her body would tense up.
Morning was no more peaceful than the night before. Gerri had paced the length of the penthouse at least three times, her phone in hand as she tried to stop her hands shaking. They had hardly exchanged a word to each other as they went about their morning routines. Gerri did her hair and makeup while Roman checked on Horus and made a call to Emily in the study. He had a task that he couldn’t tell her about until that morning. Until the last possible moment for her to put his resignation letter together to hand to Matsson once he signed the deal.
Everything had to go according to plan, just as he and Elise had wargamed it. Any deviation from the plan could make it all fall apart.
“Today’s the big day,” Gerri remarked as the SUV pulled away from the apartment complex. Fredrick had been uncharacteristically quiet, sensing the tension in the back seat. Sometimes your job as a chauffeur was knowing when not to stick your nose into something. “I feel like I’m going to throw up,” Roman mumbled behind his hand, his elbow propped up against the window as he tried to find a comfortable position.
He had thrown up. The last week had been like a repeat of the summer of competitive eating disorders. Nothing stayed down. Everytime he tried to eat something he ended up feeling sick to his stomach. He was running on vitamin D tablets, Red Bull, and sheer stubbornness.
“Well, aim for somewhere other than my boots,” Gerri suggested, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she looked out the window. She could feel a rash coming up on her neck from the stress, struggling to resist the temptation to scratch at her wrist.
This wasn’t just the nervousness of the deal with Matsson finally coming to fruition. It was an overwhelming sense of dread and anxiety that came from the knowledge that Roman - and potentially Elise - were hiding something from her. Something she was becoming more and more convinced involved Matsson’s deal.
“Whatever you say, Ger,” Roman agreed, pulling at his cuticles as he looked away from her. The lies were starting to consume him. This was the only thing he wasn’t able to talk to her about. Everything else he had no problem telling her about. She had spent hours sitting next to him, listening attentively as he told her everything on his mind - from his fears about his father’s health to his growing concerns about Shiv and Tom’s relationship. It had been Gerri’s lap he had rested his head on as he broke down after getting a call from Kendall at the start of the week. She had stroked his hair and rested her hand on his chest as he recounted what his brother had told him about the facility he was staying at.
He could tell her about all that, but he couldn’t tell her about what was really going to happen today. Just a few more hours. That was all it would take until the lies would end.
“You’re being angsty again,” she observed, looking down at the shoes he had scuffed against the carpet. “You trust me, Gerri, don’t you?” Roman asked, once more questioning his judgement and whether he had the skills to pull this off. To realise Matsson’s whisky-filled prophecy of patricide and to do what best served Gerri’s interests.
That set her teeth on edge. Baird had never needed that constant reassurance - but Baird and Roman were two very different types of men. Roman was more timid, a product of his upbringing. His shyness and nervousness hidden under the well-groomed facade of the family joker. Baird had never asked for anything. He simply took it.
Roman needed his hand held, the assurance that she wasn’t about to leave him high and dry. That she’d still be there in the morning when he woke up. Perhaps that was why he had taken to holding her while she slept. She had woken up more than once to the feeling of his hands locked on her, his grip tightening as she tried to move - as if someone was trying to take a teddy bear from a child.
But perhaps that had endeared him to her in a way that Baird never could have. Baird didn’t need her. Roman always did.
“You know, I do,” Gerri assured him, reaching out to rest her fingers across the back of his hand, letting them curve around his wrist. “You know I’m trying to do what’s best for us, right? What’s best for you?” he asked, looking down at the carpet as the car slowed down as it got closer to the Waystar office.
“Yes, Rome, I trust you,” Gerri promised, not missing a beat as she turned his hand over to link her fingers through his. Because she did trust him. Everything since Italy, maybe even Japan, had told her that she could trust him. She wouldn’t have been sitting there if she hadn’t. Wouldn’t have opened her home - and herself - to him.
“Just remember that,” Roman pleaded, needing her to know that no matter what happened today, he had done it for her. She had been the single motivation behind everything he had done since that day in Italy.
“Roman, what have you done?” Gerri whispered, leaning towards him as the car rolled to a stop. Her mind flickered back to the conversation she had with Lily almost a week earlier. Roman was up to something, almost definitely with the help of Elise. But what? Something in the back of her head told her it was to do with Matsson, perhaps even to do with the deal. But was Roman capable of betraying his father? Could he be a killer? Logan had never expected him to be, but perhaps that played in Roman’s favour.
“I promise it’ll work out, okay?” Roman urged, picking up their joint hands with his other one, a sense of panic in his voice now. These were the final seconds he’d have alone with her before it would happen. “Whatever happens in there, just remember that,” he pleaded as Fredrick got out of the car, walking around to open Geri’s door.
“You can’t keep blindsiding me, Rome,” Gerri pushed, the temperature in the car dropping as the door opened, letting in the cold front. “It’s easier this way, trust me,” Roman insisted, before he got out of the car, getting around to Gerri’s side of the car in record time.
“This is all going to work out, then I’m going to quit and we’re going to Aspen,” he told her as he put his hand on her back, guiding her towards the building. She had seen him working on something at the kitchen table the night before. Had that been his resignation letter? They had vaguely discussed it once or twice in the last week, almost always as a hypothetical. But this didn’t sound hypothetical anymore.
“You make it sound simple,” she mused, wondering if perhaps that had been part of whatever scheme Roman was a part of. Whatever was happening, he was jumping right in - feet first, pulling her along with him into the unknown. “Maybe because it is,” Roman challenged, seeing things more clearly now - without the noise of his father’s voice and the pressure of living up to his name.
Emily and Alice were standing waiting for them at the front of the building. The two respective first assistants were dressed more conservatively than usual. Everything had to be perfect. Not a hair out of place - even for the assistants.
“Matsson will be wheels down at Teterboro in 90 minutes. He’s taking a chopper from the airport then a town car. They’re going to keep the engines running. He wants to sign the deal and get straight back out of here,” Emily explained as she led the way towards the elevator as they headed through the lobby. It was a hive of activity, every Waystar Royco employee having an excuse to be in the office that day - anything to catch a glimpse of their new boss.
“Can’t say I blame him,” Roman muttered as they stepped into the metal box, standing at the front with Gerri while the assistants stood in the back. “He’s requested that you both meet him when he arrives in the lobby,” Alice added, looking up from the iPad that she was carrying, that day’s schedule displayed on the screen.
“Us?” Gerri asked, the confusion evident in her voice. She stopped, catching Roman’s eye for a moment before she turned back to look at her first assistant.
Logan should have been the one to go and meet Matsson. It was his day after all. The sale of the company he had founded and the day he would announce what he was doing next. Not that anyone knew for sure what that was. There was enough speculation though to fill two pages of that morning’s New York Times. Some rumours suggested he would purchase ATN back as a sole entity in a backroom deal with Matsson, while others put forth the idea that he might go back to Europe to invest in a luxury cruise line. Gerri didn’t know what was more likely. She had given up trying to predict Logan Roy’s actions years ago. She simply dealt with the consequences of them.
But regardless, it should have been him greeting Matsson. If Matsson had asked for her and Roman, it suggested that something else was at play.
“ Logan will be up here with the rest of the board,” Emily explained as the elevator dinged when it reached the executive floor. Roman felt a little more at ease with that. Elise had already seen to the board. She had picked them off one by one. Most of them didn’t need convincing. They knew she could pull her own weight, that she wouldn’t let Matsson walk all over them. Self-preservation had won out.
Every pawn was in place. Now they just had to see it all through. For better or worse.
Gerri spent the final hour before Matsson’s arrival pacing around her office. Her nerves only got worse when her numerous calls to Lily went straight to voicemail. That was all the confirmation she needed that something was afoot.
She looked up as her office door creaked open, her second assistant appearing with a reassuring smile. The ever-dependable Nancy. The only certainty she had of that day was that it was Nancy’s last as her assistant. The bright-eyed, bushy tailed midwestern girl that had first walked into her office almost two years ago was now spreading her wings. There was something unexpectedly bittersweet about it.
“Big day today,” Nancy remarked, handing over Gerri’s takeout coffee and two little white headache tablets. “It’s a big day for you as well, Nancy,” she acknowledged, popping the pills into her mouth before taking her first sip of coffee to help them on their way down.
“Oh, well, I don’t want any fuss. Let it be a good old-fashioned Irish goodbye,” Nancy insisted, having already planned to use the drinks reception after the deal signing to make a quiet exit from the building. Most of her belongings had already been packed up. She had left enough things out on her desks that no one else would suspect she was leaving. Emily and Alice had been sworn to secrecy not to tell anyone else until after she had left - including, but most particularly, Nick Carter.
“Does he know?” Gerri asked, nodding her head towards the younger man who was lingering around her office door, as if waiting to catch Nancy when she left. “He doesn’t need to know,” Nancy shrugged nonchalantly, resolving to not care what her fellow assistant thought. Even if part of her feared she was about to make a mistake. “I’ll let you get ready. Matsson should be here in five,” she recounted, heading towards the door before it opened as Roman walked in.
The door stayed open long enough for Gerri to see Nick trailing after Nancy as she headed towards the conference room, but it looked as though the younger woman was giving him the cold shoulder.
“You need to sort out those two,” Gerri scolded Roman as he came to a stop in front of her, plucking her coffee out of her hand to take a sip. She didn’t miss how he turned the takeout cup around so that his mouth would cover the lipstick mark she had left behind earlier.
“Who? Nick and Nancy?” he asked, putting the coffee back into her hand. Roman looked out through the glass partition to where Emily seemed to have cornered Nick, stopping him from going after Nancy. “It’s her last day today - and I guarantee you she’s going to walk out that door without telling him how she feels,” Gerri sighed, wishing that this was happening on any other day but today.
It felt like a monumental shift, as if her life would soon be able to split into two halves. Everything that had happened before that day and everything that would happen after.
“I’ll make sure he fixes it, okay,” Roman assured her as he took a second to think about the two assistants. Nick would find Nancy again, no matter what. At the bottom of a Martini Big Gulp in an overpriced Manhattan bar where he’d sit between businessmen and tourists, questioning every decision in his life. A tragic love story, but a love story all the same. There was something about it that unnerved him. As though that might have been what happened to him and Gerri if he hadn’t lied to his father. If he had stayed silent and not done what was best for her interests. What was happening now to Nick and Nancy could have happened to him and Gerri.
“Gerri, he’s pulling up in 60 seconds,” Alice announced, holding open the door of her boss’ office as Emily appeared at her shoulder. The two first assistants waited to escort their bosses to the lobby.
“How do I look?” Gerri asked, downing the rest of her coffee as she fixed the back of her blazer. The outfit had been a modest choice, a safe bet that would help her blend into the background if necessary. A neutral herringbone blazer over a cashmere-blend Max Mara dress with her ever faithful knee-high boots. The nearest thing she had to battle armour.
“You look great, Ger,” Roman paused, taking a second to look at her properly for the first time that day. It was one of the only days when he hadn’t watched her getting ready, too nervous about blurting out everything to trust himself being around her for any longer than necessary.
The couple and their assistants made a beeline to the elevator that Nick had been holding for them. The executive floor was a buzz of activity, the conference room already full with the people from both Waystar and Gojo who were there for the signing. Other Waystar staff had sneaked up onto the floor, finding any excuse necessary to hide out in one of the other offices to watch the proceedings.
The group arrived at the lobby as Matsson’s town car pulled up against the sidewalk. Roman thought for a second that he was wearing the same outfit he had worn during his and Gerri’s visit to Norway. Perhaps it was a tech billionaire thing to wear the same outfit every day as if you were a private school boy with a uniform.
Matsson shook Gerri’s hand first. “Lovely to see you again, Lukas,” she greeted him with a smile, but there was something in the other man’s actions that made him seem too eager to Roman. He didn’t miss the way that Matsson’s eyes gave Gerri the once-over.
Roman felt his other hand twitching. Wanting to reach out to touch her. Was this what it was like to be possessive of another person? There was something in the way that Matsson looked at her that turned his stomach a little. Maybe it was all in his head but it set his teeth on edge. The very idea of someone else looking at Gerri that way.
Was this what jealousy felt like?
He reached out to shake Matsson’s hand, his other hand curving around Gerri’s waist. Squeezing her just a little. Maybe he was laying claim to something he thought was his. Perhaps it was a need to assert some dominance in the situation. Speak to Matsson man to man. Tell him that Gerri was off limits.
They never touched in the office. It was the one golden rule Gerri had always made him abide by. Not even when they were alone in the office with only their respective assistants for company.
Well, fuck it. Today was his last day after all.
Matsson got the message, holding his hands up in mock apology as he took a step back, heeding the guard dog’s warning.
“Roman,” Gerri warned, forcing a fake smile as Matsson shook hands with Alice and then Emily, both assistants introducing themselves. “You’d think it was Norway here with that chill in the air,” Matsson joked before they headed towards the elevator once more.
“Big day, Gerri, big day,” he announced, rubbing his hands together as they made their way through the lobby. “I’m sure this will prove… interesting,” she agreed, nodding her head as she tried to keep her breathing regular. One foot in front of the other. Left heel. Right heel. Left heel. The last thing she needed was to fall over in her boots from her legs turning to jelly.
“ Well, we all know that you can put on a show,” Matsson smirked, looking at Roman over the top of Gerri’s head, a quiet message exchanging between them. “I’ll be sure to give you my review afterwards,” he added as Roman heard his previous words come back to haunt him.
Patricide. Octavian. Stab him in the front.
Matsson would want a show. He’d feast on it with all the voyeurism of someone who was rumoured to drink the blood of his lovers. He wanted to sit back and watch the downfall of the once great Logan Roy at the hands of his own flesh and blood as if he was a Roman at the Theatre of Pompey on the day Caesar's senators turned on him.
“What are you doing?” Gerri hissed as Matsson walked on ahead with the two assistants. “Nothing,” Roman pleaded his ignorance, but he didn’t remove his hand from her. “You’re being handsy,” she pointed out, though she made no effort to push him off. “Was not,” he insisted in a hushed tone, before stepping into the elevator after Matsson and the assistants.
Everything after that seemed to happen at double speed. Before Roman knew it they were standing in the conference room, his father greeting Matsson as the lawyers set out the paperwork for them to sign. He and Gerri stood off to one side, while Frank and Karl were on the other, flanking Logan like the old guard that they were.
“Do you have it?” Roman asked, leaning closer to his first assistant as Emily appeared at his side. She nodded her head as she moved something out from between the Waystar Royco branded folders she was carrying. The signed and printed copy of his resignation letter. “Good luck,” Emily acknowledged, handing over the white envelope that she had been left in charge of.
Roman tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his blazer, taking his place next to Gerri again at Logan’s right hand.
“Are you okay?” Gerri asked, feeling Roman tense next to her as she heard a cork pop across the room as one of the catering staff finished filling the champagne flutes that were waiting on the side counter. She thought that was a bad omen. Having champagne flowing before there was something to celebrate never ended well.
“Never been better,” Roman lied, his hand reaching out for Gerri’s behind her back, linking them together out of his father’s view as he watched the proceedings begin.
The signing of the deal was relatively straight forward. It went off without a hitch, each man signing on the dotted line to legalise the merger and acquisition. Logan waxed lyrical about his empire. Setting modesty aside as he patted himself on the back more than once during his speech. But it was that egoism that would blind him to what was coming next. To the scheme that was already afoot.
Matsson’s remarks were shorter. A few choice words to the camera that someone from the GoJo marketing team was holding across the table. The same employee quickly switched it out for another camera, instructing Logan and Matsson to move a little closer as their respective executives stepped forward for the photo.
“Gerri, why don’t you get in here?” Matsson asked, nodding his head to the empty space between him and Frank. Gerri paused for a moment, looking at Roman for assurance before stepping forward.
Everything had been carefully choreographed, right down to who would be in the pictures. She wasn’t meant to be in this one. She wasn’t meant to be in any of the photos.
But Matsson was hardly the sort who read briefing documents - and he was the boss now.
She slipped in between him and Frank, taking her place at Matsson’s right hand. Roman kept his eyes on her as the camera shutter clicked. Everything was falling into place. These were the flowery words that would come before the blows. The final act of engagement.
Beware the Ides of March.
“While we’re all gathered here. I think it’s only right to make an announcement about our new top team,” Matsson declared after the photo was taken, when Logan had walked around the table to collect them both a glass of champagne. He had been wise to put a little distance between them before pulling out the dagger, sharpening it to deliver the first blow.
Roman gulped, feeling the sweat starting to gather under the collar of his shirt as he watched Gerri return to his side. He had discussed the choreography of what would come next with both Elise and Matsson. The sequence of events that would get the job done without dragging it out any longer than necessary.
“Gerri Kellman will become the CEO for American operations, overseeing GoJo-Waystar in all its dealings throughout the United States,” Matsson announced, the room growing silent. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Frank and Karl looked between each other, but none of the GoJo executives appeared surprised, neither did the board.
Emily, Alice, Nick, and Nancy all stood off to the side. Nick was the only one who hadn’t been caught out by the news.
Roman felt Gerri stiffen next to him, as if frozen by the suddenness of it all. But in reality, Gerri’s mind was back in Norway. To the day she should have realised that this moment was predetermined. The Swede had chosen his Prince - or rather, he had chosen Roman, and by extension, her.
Matsson held his hand out for the envelope. Roman stepped forward, reaching in front of Gerri to hand over the white envelope that Emily had given him when he first walked into the room.
Another plunge of the dagger.
Matsson raised his second hand, as if stopping time itself. “I have accepted Roman Roy’s resignation as Chief Operating Officer. He will remain on in the company in a limited capacity as part of our transition strategy,” he explained, pocketing the resignation letter that he had no intention of reading. But he would keep it for he knew what it would mean to Logan. That piece of paper was an abdication. An act of surrender.
“Before I can make any more appointments, there is a major restructuring about to happen,” Matsson continued, his eyes fixed on Logan as the older man’s hands tightened into fists around the champagne flutes. One of them had already broken, the stem splitting in two. The glass shards split his skin, the blood dripping from them as though he had been wounded by a knife.
Roman found himself once more reaching for Gerri, his hand resting on her back as he stood by her side. “Rome, what’s happening?” She whispered, her head turned to look at him as she tried to put the pieces together. Roman shook his head. The secret keeping was almost over. Everything was coming into the daylight.
“Bring her in,” Matsson announced as his lawyers rounded the table with two new sets of documents. The door at the back of the room creaked open. Elise’s lawyers appeared first. Half a dozen of them stepped into the room, taking the spots now vacated by some of Matsson’s team, who had left through the side door.
The familiar sensation of nails digging into his arm told him that Gerri didn’t appreciate being blindsided. He bit his tongue as her nails dug further into his arm. Hard enough that it was guaranteed to leave a mark. But the sensation stopped suddenly as the final visitor stepped into the board room.
Elise was the last person to enter the room. Roman’s eyes trailed from her pointed-toe stilettos to her sleek curls. He wondered if those heels had been deliberately sharpened to give the illusion of a blade. The suit had clearly been tailored for her. A cold blooded killer.
“Good afternoon,” Elise greeted, walking along the side of the room where Roman and Gerri stood, though her eyes were fixed on Logan as she took her victory lap. His face made it evident that he knew what had just happened. That he knew there was only one reason why Elise Ward would be here.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Logan cried, slamming down the remaining glass onto the table as he held his blood-stained hand out towards the newcomer. The glass shattered on impact, scattering at his feet.
“Hello, Logan,” Elise greeted, moving to occupy the spot next to Matsson on his side of the table. “Logan, meet my financial backer,” Matsson acknowledged, shaking hands with the woman as they greeted each other.
The room fell silent for a moment and Roman took in the confused expressions around him. Frank and Karl both looked as though they had just sucked on a bitter lemon, but the board members knew what was coming. They had already played their part in this. Each of them had been as easy to win over as Elise had expected. They had seen the writing on the wall, taking the road of self-preservation like their betters before them.
“This is a fucking hostile takeover, isn’t it?” he scowled, leaning down on the table as he jeered forward a little. Roman thought he might have lunged across the table and strangled her if he was a younger, more agile man. But his age was getting to him. Another sign of his mortality.
“Oh no, it doesn’t have to be hostile, Logan,” Elise countered, her voice sweet like honey as she stood beside Matsson, the allies standing in union with each other. Matsson’s lawyer opened two identical folders, setting one in front of Lukas and the other in front of Elise.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan barked as one of the lawyers handed two rollerball pens out to Matsson and Elise, the silver cap gleaming like a blade in the winter light. “I promised my wife a wedding present. It might be four years late, but I think it’ll have been worth the wait,” Elise explained, taking off the cap as she leaned over the lever arch file that one of her lawyers opened for her at the first page that had been marked with a post-it note.
“Matsson, what have you fucking sold to her?” Logan howled, as though he had finally seen the blades that were being sharpened, but only after the first cut had been made. Matsson’s pen squeaked as it dashed across the page. He quickly flicked between the pages, adding his signature to the ones that had been marked with a post-it note. He had agreed to give Elise her moment. It was what he had wanted after all. To have a front row seat to the theatre of it all, immersed into the Senate as Brutus took his plunging blow.
“I think those little grey cells in your brain are still working. You know what I’ve bought,” Elise replied coyly, each word punching the air as she waited for the realisation to set in. She made a show of signing her full name, pausing a little at the first part of her surname. She flourished the K with a little twirl before following through to the E and looping the Ls, carrying through the rest of her wife’s surname before scribbling ‘Ward’ next to it after a little dash.
“You sold her ATN? A-T-fucking-N!” Logan cried, the pieces having finally fallen together. There was only one thing she would have wanted. The only thing her father had ever failed at acquiring. The jewel in the Roy crown.
Gerri’s eyes looked as though they were bulging out of her head and Roman felt guilty once again for blindsiding her. “I don’t have much to gain from an outlet like ATN. More trouble than it's worth,” Matsson admitted, well aware of the fact a network like ATN was only doomed to get him into trouble with the European markets. He didn’t need a political outlet, certainly not an American one.
“You were meant to be letting me buy that,” Logan reminded him, thinking of the deal he thought he had shook hands with Matsson on. Was such an agreement only worth the paper it was written on?
Roman felt as though he was seeing the chessboard from above, watching as each piece moved into place, as each piece determined their strategy. Elise and Logan may have offered the same price, perhaps Logan outbidded her - but Matsson would consider this show to be worth several million dollars. You didn’t get this with live theatre.
“Elise put forward a more... interesting offer,” Matsson confessed, continuing to sign his name across the rest of the document, handing over each asset one by one to Ward Inc. “I’ve bought ATN and other assets from your publishing division. I’ve taken them right out from under your nose,” Elise explained, the corner of her lips tugging into a satisfied smirk. She had discussed Logan’s offer with Matsson, revelled in the idea that he had foolishly believed he would walk away with ATN still in his name.
“You fucking bastard,” Logan growled as the side store clicked close once more. By now most of the audience, except for the assistants and lawyers, had left the room.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Gerri whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were still fixed on the ping-ponging that was happening between Matsson, Elise, and Logan. Roman simply nodded his head. They could talk about this later, once the blood letting had happened.
“You’re all in on this, aren’t you?” Logan accused, eyes flickering between the executives that stood around the table before resting on the woman in front of him as she finished signing the stack of legal contracts. Matsson stood silently by her side, dutifully dotting the Is and crossing the Ts as he made the sale official. “That’s the first time I’ve signed anything ‘Kellman-Ward’, funny that,” Elise observed as she swapped folders with Matsson, beginning to sign the ones he had already added his signature to.
“I’m going to snap your neck, Ward,” he threatened, his hands grasping at the air as he squeezed as though it was Elise’s neck that he had wrapped his fingers around and not the empty air.
But she revelled in watching his squirm. In seeing the Empire crumble with each stroke of her pen. Logan Roy’s legacy was dead.
“A word of advice, Logan,” she jested, hands pressed against the conference table as she leaned forward. “The next time you come after my wife and child, I won’t stop at your company. I’ll take everything. And I mean everything,” she threatened and something in her voice told Roman she meant it. That she would have taken Logan’s dying breath, stood over his body as he let out a death rattle. Played the role of murderer, the boatman, and Hades in damning his soul for eternity.
Elise lifted her pen forward in a stabbing motion, twirling it between her manicured fingers. Roman wondered for a brief second if she might pluck Logan’s eyes out with the tip, like the blinding of Gloucester, his own cruelty fed back to him for failing to see where his son’s loyalty really lay.
Gerri stepped forward a little at the revelation, Roman’s hand coming out to grab desperately at her arm. His fingers caught nothing but air. But she didn’t move around to the other side of the table, if anything she was closer to Elise now than Logan. Roman’s eyes followed her anxiously, fingers twitching as he tried to anticipate her next move.
“You fucking bitch!” Logan jeered at Elise, leaning further across the table as Roman’s eyes once more found that pointy little pen. They were close enough now that Elise could swing it right into his jugular vein. Roman imagined for a moment what that would be like. The blood pouring out of his father’s neck, soaking the legal contract that had just symbolically ripped his publishing empire out from under him. Would he gag? Would his eyes roll to the back of his head as he let out a death raffle? Die choking on his own blood as if he was Agamemnon and Iphigenia had turned the knife on him. There would be something poetic about that - the daughter of his greatest rival plunging in the knife, ending a thirty-year long proxy war. It would get everywhere. It would soak through his clothes and into his very being. As if he had been stabbed a dozen times over by his own senators. His father’s blood would soak into his skin and he would feel numb to it all.
And somehow, Roman knew he could live with that. Would sleep peacefully at night and stop living in fear of the shadows that loomed over his dog crate.
“You’re all in on it, aren’t you?” Logan snapped, his voice bringing Roman out of his spiral.
It was Gerri’s voice that filled the room next. “Roman, what does she mean?” she asked, but her eyes were trained on Logan. The shock had worn off by now. Roman wondered if she was lining up to take the next go at the dagger. Was Gerri a killer? Would she take the pen and plunge it in Logan’s neck if she was given half the chance?
“My father paid a private investigator to follow Lily and Selina to spook you into resigning,” Roman answered, the sound of his own voice surprising him. It didn’t feel as if he was speaking. This all felt like an out of body experience.
“How did you..?” Logan faltered, the missing piece falling into place. His son had betrayed him. Had sold him out to Elise - but at what cost?
“I got my hands on the photos and took them to Elise. You haven’t been able to get a single photo since then because Elise paid off your investigator,” Roman explained, watching out of the corner of his eye as Elise closed over the lever arch file, popping the lid on the pen with a heavy click.
It was done. ATN was officially under Ward Inc. control.
The Roy Empire faded to nothingness in one final pen stroke.
But Roman’s eyes went back to Gerri before he could take that thought any further. He couldn’t tell whether she wanted to scream or be sick, but he could see her lurching forward. It all played out before him. The same scene he had seen with Elise, but this time it was Gerri. She would have gone straight for the eyes. Plucked them out to wear as earrings.
But Gerri wouldn’t have given him the mercy of such a quick death. Not after what he had done. Who he had targeted. What would Gaia have done if the stars had been threatened? She’d have plunged the world into a bleak winter, until the cold had chipped away at the very essence of the madmen who had threatened her precious stars. Until they died a slow, painful death with chattering teeth as their death rattle.
“You were all in on this,” Logan accused, his face red as though smudged by the blood boiling in his veins. “Gerri knew nothing about it. Her hands are clean,” Roman protested, though he wasn’t sure why.
The semantics of it all didn’t matter, but it mattered to him. This had all been his own doing. Gerri hadn’t been pulling his strings, not in the way his father would inevitably accuse her of. He had chosen this. He had wanted this. It was what served his interests. What served their interests.
By now he had realised most of the room had cleared out. Perhaps it was Karl or Frank who had told them to leave, but all three camps had left the battlefield. They were all huddled outside the conference room - Elise’s lawyers, Mattson’s people, and the now former executives of Waystar Royco.
“It was us,” Elise interjected, as though throwing Roman a lifeline to catch his breath. A chance to edge a little closer to Gerri as he came to her side, keeping her within arm’s reach. Just in case. “Gerri found out the same time you did,” Elise added, glancing over at her mother-in-law, who appeared speechless for perhaps the first time in her life. But there was something bubbling under the surface. Something Elise recognised.
That distinctive scorn of feminine rage. The quiet sort. The one that builds up over years and years. Made a little stronger by every man who stepped over her to get what they wanted. The flame that got more phosphorescent every time Logan threatened her - every time he fired her as if her career, her life’s work, was just a piece of dirt at the bottom of his shoe. Fired her just so he could watch her squirm. Because he could do that. He could click his fingers and end someone’s career - without a second thought.
And he didn’t even care.
But she could do that too. She could end him - if she wanted to. Had thought of it more than once. Had drafted, deleted, re-drafted, then deleted whistleblower emails more times than she’d care to admit. Even more since Baird died. She had quietly filed away everything she’d needed - proof of the sins she had washed away as though they had never happened. It was a security of sorts. Her own poison pill if she ever found herself in murky waters. Enough to buy her freedom with. Enough to seal Logan’s damnation with.
Gerri kissed her teeth, eyes narrowing as she felt her shoulders tense as she quietly sharpened the blade. She’d end him. Put a stop to this madness once and for all.
Logan’s voice filled the room once more. It was a shell of what it had been. As if someone had taken the air from his lungs, his breath raspy.
“And you, Romulus?” he asked, leaning heavily on the back of the tall black chair at the conference table. A dying man suddenly aware of his own mortality. That his time was almost up.
Roman knew what the question really was. Who was he choosing? Was he going to side with his father and fall back into line or usurp him to hand his father’s crown to a woman?
This was the moment when Roman Roy had to decide who he was and who he was going to be. It was the same moment he realised that anyone was capable of being a killer.
Gerri stood on one side. Logan on the other. Like two paths, each offering him a different future. But he had long since known what path he was going to take when this inevitable crossroads opened.
“Yes, Dad. And me,” Roman answered solemnly.
He had made his decision. He had made it months, perhaps even as far back as Japan. Definitely before they left Italy. Perhaps in that tiny little conference room in the soaring mid-summer’s heat when he fashioned the lie that all of this had been built on.
Gerri found her words then. Sweeping in to claim the narrative as Rome began to crumble.
“Logan, you would stoop that low? To go after my grandchild?” she uttered, the heaviness of it all weighing on her chest. Logan would have thought nothing of it, would have thought nothing of using a little girl as a pawn. He had done things a thousand times worse a hundred times over. This had been him playing nice. Showing her a certain level of respect for who she was. For who she had been.
And still it had been too much. Still he had crossed a line. Sealed his death, as if he was his own judge, jury, and executioner. This had become an inevitability from the moment he crossed that line.
“ Seems fair. You took my son. Your daughter-in-law has taken my fucking company now,” Logan roared, the veins visible in his neck, looking as though they were on the verge of bursting. An eye for an eye. A son for a company. A family for an Empire. But Rome was no more. Conquered by the prodigal son and the Queen over the water. All that would be left were the ashes of a once great man, corrupted by the very thing he had once sought.
“ You were Baird’s best friend, Logan,” she reminded him, the bitterness evident in her tone now. Her voice seemed as though it might just break, but it held steady. This deity could not and would not shatter.
All the years she had given to him. Her best years. The years she should have spent with her daughters. The last months she should have had with her husband instead of fighting to put another row of zeros at the end of Logan fucking Roy’s bank account.
Gerri took two steps forward, almost closing the gap between them as Logan started his next assault. “And he’s turning in his grave, I’ll tell you that!” he puffed, as though something was pulling at his lungs, taking the breath from him. Roman thought for one brief second that it looked as though his father was on the verge of a heart attack. As if one more twist of the dagger would finish him off.
They were toe to toe now. The Queen had found her place on the chess board, guided there by her knights.
“It’s sick. You’re fucking sick, Gerri. My own son and now my company. You make Macbeth look like a nymph,” Logan hissed, the power in his voice lost as he clutched at his chest like a General wounded in battle.
Roman imagined what would happen if he dropped dead then and there. Killed by the sheer willpower of the women he had wronged. What if his heart suddenly stopped? If he dropped dead at Gerri’s feet. Roman had pre-grieved his father’s death already. That was the sole certainty he could take from that moment. He would probably never see his father again until he’d kiss the man’s coffin. The wood would be as cold as the hands that had once throttled him black and blue like a scrappy little dog in a streetfight.
Gerri’s nails were on Logan’s arm, digging down as she lined herself up next to him. She had to push up onto her tiptoes, even in her heels, to bring her lips to his ear - but she managed it. Managed to bring herself to his level. They were even now.
Roman inched a little closer, but he couldn’t make out what happened next. It looked as though Gerri was dripping poison into his ear. Her back was to Roman, but he got the sense that Elise could hear what she was saying - or at the very least, could put the pieces together.
His father’s face turned to ash. Was this how the men of old looked when they came face to face with Medusa? In those few seconds between mortality and death. Gerri was still hissing into Logan’s ear, his stature dropping as though he had taken a knife to the chest.
Anyone could be a killer - even Gerri. He knew that now. Women made the coldest killers of them all. Mothers the most merciless. She would be no exception.
Gerri yanked her hand back from Logan’s arm, letting it drop down to his side. Roman could have swore he saw the indents her nails had left on his blazer sleeve. It was as if they were little dagger marks.
Logan broke eye contact, eyes shifting to the other side of the room as his chest seemed to rise and fall faster than before. Had he ever seen his father panicked before? Logan had already lost. The Emperor driven to insanity by his own refusal to accept what was happening in front of him.
“I’m going to fight this. I’ll take it to the courts. I’ll call the President,” Logan cried out, one final rally cry. But his loyal generals had deserted him. Roman could see Frank and Karl peering into the conference room through the glass partition. The Senators had wiped their hands of him.
Gerri laughed. A bitter laugh that came from the back of her throat. She knew he couldn’t fight it. She’d bury him in so much shit that it would suffocate him. Her hands were clean. She had always seen to that. Picked up the ways to keep her fingerprints off the crimes from when Baird was General Counsel. Baird would come back to haunt him from beyond the grave, taking whatever was left of the once great Logan Roy.
“And for what, dad? To throw money down the drain? You may as well piss it up the wall,” Roman contested, his heart beating a little easier as Gerri stepped away from his father, returning to his side. What had she said to him? What poison had she threatened to shove down his throat?
“It’s not over, Roman,” Logan snapped, pushing down on the back of the seat as he yanked it back, throwing it along the side of the table, hearing it clank against a filing cabinet as it went.
No one flinched. Logan looked nothing but a weak and feeble man. Every one of his eighty-four years were evident on his face in that moment. Every line and crack seemed deeper. There was a frailty there that had once had been hidden behind the gleam of an Emperor’s clothes.
“He’s a credit to you, Logan. Somehow he’s turned out a fairly good egg, the Roy name aside,” Elise observed, rounding the remaining seats to stand on Gerri’s other side. Roman felt pride at that, even the circumstances. The son had not been damned by the sins of the father.
“Security will be escorting you out of the building and taking your security pass, Mr. Roy,” Matsson spoke up as he cleared his throat, putting the proceedings back on track. They had a schedule to adhere to. After all, he was using the median household income keeping the engine of his private jet on at Teterboro.
“Like hell they will,” Logan cried, face turning plum red as he beat his chest. The door creaked open, two security guards stepping into the room as Matsson waved them inside. “Dad, just…don’t fight it,” Roman pleaded, wanting his father to maintain some sense of his reputation by being able to walk out the front door.
“I’m going to sue. I’m going to sue you all. I’ll bankrupt you,” Logan threatened, moving to step forward but one of the security guard’s blocked his path, the other grabbing him by the arm. They no longer worked for him anymore. “I’d like to see you try,” Elise mused, folding her arms as she felt a little safer with two security guards standing between them and Logan.
“Cesar falls after all. Long live Octavian,” Matsson observed from his perch by the windows that looked out onto the great metropolis that had once been Logan’s empire. His words brought a deafening silence to the room. Matsson was Nero, playing his little fiddle as Rome went up in flames.
“Mr. Roy will be leaving now,” Gerri announced, two beats later, eyes fixed on the weak man in front of her. Her voice was almost robotic, as though she was reading off a teleprompter. As if she was unfazed by his threats. They were nothing but the dying cries of a once great ruler.
“You haven’t heard the end of this,” Logan cried, but he was already halfway out the door, manhandled by the security guards who had taken the hint from Elise. Either they walked him out or she pushed him out.
The executive floor was littered with groups of executives and huddles of junior employees who had come to get a glimpse of their new boss. The gossip had spread like wildfire, jumping from one little pocket of people to the next as if it was being carried by the wind.
Logan Roy was taken out in an act of patricide. Roman had quit, Gerri was the American CEO, and Elise Ward had acquired ATN and the publishing division of Waystar Royco.
“What are you all fucking looking at?” Logan barked, shoulders hunched as he let the security guards walk him out through the executive floor. Several employees turned around, unable to make eye contact with him as he walked by. It felt like a funeral procession - except the corpse was still alive. Barely, but somehow still alive.
Something caught Logan’s eyes as he walked through.
There in Gerri’s office stood Lily. Her blonde hair was an instant giveaway, left loose around the shoulders. She had wanted him to see her, that much Logan was sure about. Athena Nike swooping in to enjoy the spoils of war. Logan faltered for a moment, his blood boiling in his veins as he snarled.
“Fucking witch,” he growled, yanking his arm away from one of the security guards as he crossed the floor towards Gerri’s office. They stood separated by the glass panel. Lily on one side, Logan on the other. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to catch his breath, his blood pressure rising as he kept his eyes locked with the woman’s on the other side. Logan’s hand curled into a fist, the glass shards from earlier still cutting his skin as he watched the blonde purse her lips. It felt like he was the caged animal that she was looking in on.
“Mr. Roy,” Nancy addressed him, appearing in his line of sight, putting another barrier between him and the blonde woman in the office. “I believe your car is waiting outside,” she reminded him, as though offering him one final chance to back off.
It was then that Logan saw what was in Lily’s hand. A shiny red apple, unblemished, as though it had been picked from one of the trees in Eden. Logan watched as she pressed her teeth into the skin of the glossy red apple, its juices glistening on her lips as she chewed. The poisonous apple had no effect now. The poison no longer dripped through.
Emily put her hand out to stop Nick as Logan leered forward, as though he might throw Nancy out of the way to get to Lily. To rip the apple from her hand and shove it down her throat until those piercing eyes rolled to the back of her head.
Lily took another bite, as if daring him to snatch it from her.
“Colin, get him out of here,” Nick hissed, having made his way over to the bodyguard who stood a few steps back from Logan. But Nancy continued to glare him down, standing her ground with all the virtuosity of her mentor.
Lily tilted her head, stepping closer to the glass as her eyes narrowed. Logan felt a stabbing pain in his heart once more, clutching at his chest as he took a shallow breath. Nancy’s eyes widened as she stood between the two, as though expecting the older man to drop at her feet.
“Let’s get out of this fucking hell hole,” Logan announced, turning on his heel as he headed towards the elevators, Colin following as his shadow.
The four assistants watched as the elevator doors shut behind Logan and the security guards. “Tyranny is dead, after all,” Nick muttered, having played witness to the effective exile of Logan Roy. “Let’s go check on them, Matsson will be leaving any minute now,” Emily instructed, shifting her focus back on the task at hand. Even if she was now without a job after Roman’s resignation.
“Happy with the results?” Matsson asked as his own assistants gathered at the door as Roman and Gerri’s returned, each waiting on their respective bosses to wrap up. “Happy is an interesting word choice,” Roman admitted, not sure what he was feeling at that moment. The only emotion he could recognise was relief. Sheer relief that it was over. That he could move forward now, build a life outside of the suffocating arena that had been the Roy family empire. Relief and maybe something else. Something he couldn’t put a name to for now.
“I can do business with you, Gerri. You’re not afraid of the dark,” Matsson remarked as he shook hands with her, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he congratulated her. “You cut straight to the point, Lukas. I appreciate that,” Gerri acknowledged, taking a breath as she tried to steady her heartbeat, shaking his hand before letting go. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and I won’t meddle too much, so long as you keep making me money,” he joked, having little interest in engaging himself in the day-to-day running of the company he had just acquired.
“I can do that,” Gerri agreed, cracking her first genuine smile since she walked through the conference room, guiding Matsson towards the door when his assistants were waiting. “I can only stay so long in America before the skin starts to crawl with all your chemicals and additives,” he explained with a shiver that told Gerri he was definitely the sort who lived on a diet of raw meat and greens. If the rumours were true.
“Come to Europe after the holidays. We’ll work everything out then,” Matsson instructed as they reached the door. “I’ll get it set up,” Gerri agreed, shaking his hand once more before stepping back to let Roman do the same. It was an unexpectedly pleasant exchange. Perhaps he would be easier to manage than Logan.
Gerri waited until Matsson was out of her line of sight, heading down the hallway with his team, before turning to Roman. “So, this is the secret you’ve been keeping,” she observed, finally seeing the last few weeks for what they had been. His late night calls. The sleepless nights. His meetings with Elise. They had all been for this. Wargaming the choreography of his father’s downfall. All of it happening behind her back.
“Can you see now why I kept it a secret?” Roman asked, burying his hands in his pockets as he turned around to put his back to the assistants waiting on the other side of the door. “You should have told me, Roman, you should have told me as soon as this whole thing started,” she scolded, stepping further into the room to stop their assistants from eavesdropping on their conversation. Why was this entire office building just an assortment of glass boxes? Had that been Logan’s way of spying on them? Of curating the culture of fear and paranoia that ultimately led to his downfall.
But she agreed with Roman. It had been right to keep this particular secret. If she had known about Logan’s threats, if she had realised he was willing to go after the girls, they never would have gotten here. She would have been the one being walked out by security. Maybe that’s what Logan had been planning.
“Gerri, how would I have told you?” Roman questioned, following her into the middle of the room. How many times had he almost told her? More than once he had thought about waking her up in the middle of the night to tell her. To confess it all in the darkness of the night, so he wouldn’t have to see the disappointment in her face. But he had stopped himself every time. What would she have done if he had told her?
“It worked though,” Roman pointed out, not sure if he should feel as if he could celebrate or not. Part of him acknowledged he had drawn a line through the sand. Been responsible for his father being marched out of the company he had built brick by brick for fifty years. But they had won. Him and Gerri. Achieved what they had set out to do at the very beginning, long before Italy. He had done what served their interests. “It was a mad plan, but it worked,” he acknowledged.
It only could have worked in this universe. When the stars had aligned in just the right constellation. Him, Matsson, Elise. It couldn’t have happened any other way. It wouldn’t have happened if his father hadn’t gone after Lily and Selina, at least not like this. This mad plan had worked because of his father’s mistakes.
Gerri’s eyes darted over Roman’s shoulder to the executive floor as Lily appeared from her office, crossing the floor to greet the four assistants. She hugged them each in turn, pointing back to Gerri’s office as she spoke to the assistants as they huddled around her.
“Lily must have found out, she thought something was up when we had dinner with them on Saturday,” Gerri observed, not surprised that her daughter had evidently been hiding in her office. She must have come up with Elise and the Ward Inc. lawyers. “Elise told her, I think,” Roman suggested, knowing he should have expected that Lily was hiding somewhere, watching the chaos unfold from her ivory tower. “Course she did,” Gerri acknowledged, eyes fixed on the group on the other side of the glass as Elise left her group of lawyers to head towards her wife.
“You did the right thing though,” Gerri acknowledged, her mind having already concluded that there was no better outcome than the one he had delivered. They all won. Each taking a slice of the pie. Roman would get his payout from the acquisition. She’d get to end her career as CEO. Elise had finished what her father had started. Lily would put her ghosts to rest.
“Did I?” Roman asked, feeling that heaviness in his chest once more. The realisation of what he had done. Patricide wasn’t something he had thought himself capable of. Shiv; without a question. Kendall; under the right circumstances. But him? His father had never thought of him as a killer. Nothing but the weakest of the dogs. The one who always seemed to fall at the first hurdle, who lacked the ambition to be something great.
This proved that everyone had a killer instinct in them, laying dormant until something triggers that fight or flight response. Gerri had triggered that in him.
“Uhm,” Gerri hummed in agreement, stepping closer to him. “You did what best served our interests,” she reminded him, her hand coming to rest on his arm, her fingers tracing circles along the fabric of his sleeve.
Logan’s threat would have worked. She would have thrown in the towel if she had known he was willing to use the girls as a pawn. Roman would have known that. “I know it couldn't have been easy. Turning on your dad like that,” she acknowledged, suspecting that the reality of it all would only hit him in the weeks and months to come. When he come down from the euphoric high of what he had achieved. When he realised the price he’d pay for going against his father.
“Just spoke to him in his own language,” Roman admitted, hand curled around the back of his neck as he thought once more of the way his father had looked. Logan would put himself into the grave - either through drink or his blind obsession with reclaiming his empire. And his blood would be on Roman’s hand.
“You certainly did,” Gerri agreed, having seen him realise the potential she had seen in him months ago, during that trip to Japan. That visit had changed everything. Nothing had been the same after that, both professionally and in their personal relationship. Japan had set them on this course, guiding them up the path that had led to this very moment.
“What did you say to him?” Roman asked, knowing that it was Gerri who had shifted the power balance. That was when his father lost. Whatever Gerri had whispered into his father’s ear had spoked him enough to end the war. The valour of her tongue had been the final strike. The death blow.
Lady Macbeth and her little fucking screwdriver indeed.
“Come on, Ger, we don’t keep secrets,” he reminded her, hand reaching out for hers as he closed the gap between them. Their relationship might have been built on a lie. Their empire was founded on the secrets they kept. But no more. “Someday I’ll tell you, but not in a room where the walls have ears,” she pointed out, knowing that one day she would tell him the valorous words she had whispered in his father’s ear. But not today.
He seemed to accept that answer. Accepting that, for now, Gerri would keep one more secret. “You’re in charge now, Ger. God Save the Queen and all that,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood as he gave himself a moment to celebrate what they had achieved.
Roman bowed at the chest, his hand still holding onto hers as he caught her eye, pulling her a little closer. It was just them in the conference room now, the rest of the board having exited not long after Logan.
“You and me, we’ll run this to fuck,” Roman insisted, his hand lingering on the small of her back, fingers softly pressing against the wool of her Brunello Cucinelli blazer. They could see the entire executive floor from here, as if looking out on their empire. It felt a little like looking into a gilded cage at the birds trapped within, chirping nonsense to each other because they knew nothing of a world outside of its walls. A cage that no longer held them.
“But that was your resignation letter that you handed to Matsson, right?” Gerri asked, turning her head to look at him as she leaned back, pressing against his hand before it curled around her waist. Tucking itself into the curve where he had first touched her. “Yep,” Roman nodded, remembering that he hadn’t told her that was going to happen. They had discussed it - vaguely - and he had given her the impression that he wouldn’t stay at Waystar long. He just pulled the trigger a little earlier than she had expected him to.
“So, how are we going to “run it to fuck” if you’re not here?” Gerri questioned, her free hand fiddling with the buttons of his shirt as she smoothed out a crease between the fifth and sixth button. “I’ll still be here. I just…don’t want to be on the payroll,” he countered, knowing that he’d go wherever Gerri went. He’d still be there, standing loyally by her side like an obedient lap dog who had found his teeth, found the killer instinct brought out by his Mistress. He’d be with her - where he was always meant to be.
“Ah, rockstar on the sidelines?” she asked, reaching out feebly to fix the collar of his shirt, her fingers lingering on the top button that he had left undone. This was more touching than she would usually allow in the office - but the old rules were gone now. She was in charge and Roman was no longer her colleague. He was simply the outgoing COO and the partner of the CEO. Touching was allowed now.
“You know, conflict of interest and all that. Europeans are sticklers for it,” Roman pointed out, biting down on the inside of his cheek as Gerri ran her finger across his collar, as if she might dip her finger between the fabric and pull him to her. “I see, but what are you going to do?” she asked, wondering if Roman had ever allowed himself the liberty to imagine a life outside of the confinement of his father’s fists.
“Thought I might go and be a trophy husband for a while,” Roman suggested, his eyes trained on her face for any flicker of a reaction. “No,” she smirked with a shake of her head, using every ounce of her willpower to keep her face straight as she rested her hand flat against his chest. Though she could imagine him fitting seamlessly into the role like the young men she would see at the tennis court, carrying their wife’s things and ordering around a gaggle of assistants. Roman already did all that - he just didn’t have the title.
“Come on, Ger,” he teased, tilting his head as he inhaled her perfume. Tom Ford. The one she always saved for special occasions - and the one that always drove him mad, as if he could suck it from her neck like a poison made just for him.
“We’ll get you a co-working space or something when we get back from Aspen. You’re not becoming a glorified stay-at-home husband,” she insisted, refusing to let him spend his days rotting in her apartment. The last thing she needed was him becoming one of those “influencers” or something - or worse, if he made Horus an influencer out of sheer boredom.
“So, I can be your husband then,” Roman smirked, counting it as a point for his side. Had she even realised what she had said? It might be semantics but that’s what they dealt in. “What?” she asked, a flush coming to her cheeks as she caught herself. “You know what you said, Ger,” Roman insisted, bringing their hands together at his chest. “Don’t push your luck,” she warned, though she wondered if that was the inevitable outcome of the path they were on. If that was the final destination of a journey that started in Japan, stopped-off in Italy and blossomed in a penthouse apartment in New York.
“That’s not a no, G,” he observed, biting back a smirk as he watched her squirm under his gaze. “That was a cheap trick, Rome,” Gerri pointed, her fingers tapping against his chest as she stepped back a little, seeing something move over Roman’s shoulder. “Marriage to you wouldn’t be cheap,” he teased, knowing he’d sign over every cent and dollar in his bank account like a dowry to marry her.
Gerri struggled to keep her poker face in play, eyes darting back and forth between Roman and the figure at the door, the corners of her lips twitching as she felt the heat rise on her face. “I think Elise needs to talk to me. Can you give us a minute?” she asked, nodding her head towards the door as it creaked open behind them. “We’ll pick this up later,” Roman insisted, not prepared to end the conversation there.
And they would pick it up later. Because for the first time in months Roman could start thinking about a future that didn’t involve Waystar Royco. That didn’t involve the corporate baggage of being the youngest son of Logan Roy.
“You owe me a fucking drink, Ward,” Roman smirked as he stepped around Elise as she came in the room, shaking her hand before he slipped out into the hallway.
“God save the Queen,” Elise greeted with a smirk and a mock salute as she crossed the conference room towards her mother-in-law. “Oh, no. This is a democracy,” Gerri insisted with a shake of her head. Heavy was the head that wore the crown - and she had no intention of wearing hers for long. Just long enough to see the company through its transition and retire a few years down the line for a career in the speakers’ circuit.
“Still the top dog, whatever title you want to use. Gerri the Great. That’s what they should call you,” the younger woman joked, leaning back against one of the conference chairs. “Oh god, no,” Gerri whined, scrunching up her nose as she shook her head. Logan was the sort of one who wanted accolades like that, but they had never interested her. Even less so now.
“How are you doing?” Elise asked in a softer voice, folding her arms as she tried to put herself into her mother-in-law’s shoes. While Lily had been brought in on the secret, it was Gerri who had been kept in the dark. Left to process it all as it unfolded in front of her. “I didn’t see this coming, though, I can’t say I’m unhappy about it,” Gerri admitted, still surprised that Roman and Elise had managed to pull it all off right under her nose. “I’m still…shocked by how it’s happened,” she confessed, thinking back once more to look in Logan’s eyes when he realised he lost. It was he who had looked like a scrappy little dog. His face showed every day of his eighty-four years as he watched everything crumble before him.
And she enjoyed it. Marvelled in watching him fall apart as if he had stripped of his powers, turned on by his own son and those nearest to him.
“When Roman brought the pictures to me, I realised what we could do,” Elise explained, knowing that inevitably they would have to talk about what Logan had done, but that could wait until later.
“Has this been your plan all along?” Gerri questioned, though her tone wasn’t accusatory. If it hadn’t been for Elise’s plotting, everyone might have been different. It might have been her being walked out by security - just as Logan had threatened all those months ago. “I put a vague plan together after you met with Lily when you came back from Italy in the summer,” she confessed, having thought of exploiting the mother-in-law she had never met as her way of getting her foot in the door. It hadn’t been the first time she had thought of exploring Waystar’s turbulent waters to acquire ATN. Though no plan she could come up with made up for the lack of access she had to the negotiating table. While Gerri was the lynchpin, Roman was the missing piece. The one who could bring her to Matsson as if he was a master of the dark arts.
“Ah,” Gerri remarked, though she couldn’t hold her daughter-in-law’s ambition against her. “I wanted to do it for Lily, for my dad, and I guess for you, as well,” Elise admitted, her desire to see her plan through only growing stronger in the months since Lily had allowed Gerri back in again.
There was a certain irony to it that Gerri would only appreciate later. That it was women - the very thing that Logan Roy had never been able to comprehend, to fit into his brain - who had brought him down. Roman and Matsson might have facilitated it, but it was she and Elise who had plunged the dagger into his neck.
“Well, Roman couldn’t have done it without you, that much I know for sure,” Gerri insisted. He wouldn’t have been able to pull ATN out from under Logan’s nose. Roman would have been able to put in the knife but he needed Elise to twist it a little deeper.
“I think it’s time we put our ghosts to rest. All of them, the living and the dead,” Elise declared, glancing out the glass partition to where Roman and Lily were standing in deep conversation with each other. “You’re right. You and Roman have laid them to rest. Put the past in a nice, tidy little box,” Gerri agreed, following Elise’s line of sight as she thought of Baird and Elise’s own father, two men whose lives had been destroyed by the cruelty of Logan Roy - avenged in a way neither of them could have expected.
“Congratulations, Gerri,” Elise smiled, her arm wrapping around the older woman’s shoulder as she kissed her cheek. “Congratulations, Elise. Your father would be so proud of you,” Gerri acknowledged, stepping forward to wrap her arms around her daughter-in-law, squeezing her a little tighter as she felt Elise’s shoulders slack against her. Sometimes she forgot how much the other woman had lost - and how alike they were to each other.
“Last woman standing,” Elise teased, but Gerri wondered for a moment if she had been fighting back tears, her voice quivering as she tried to compose herself once more. “Well, just so you know. I now have a board seat as part of my deal with Matsson. So you have a built-in ally at the top table,” she advised, pulling away so that Gerri was now at arm’s length.
“I’m sure that’s going to go down a treat,” Gerri snorted, imagining the uproar that would happen once that became public knowledge. The criticism that never would have been thrown at a man for appointing one of his family members to the board. The sort of criticism that only ever seemed to roar its ugly head with a heavy dose of misogyny attached to it. “ Men have been doing it for years, Gerri. Think it’s time us girls have some fun,” Elise reminded her, wrapping her arm around Gerri’s shoulder as she led her towards the conference room door. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time we got back to our respective partners before they brew up another scheme,” she suggested, leaving the battlefield behind them, as if Logan’s blood wasn’t drying onto the carpet.
“Lily, I didn’t know you were here,” Roman greeted as he slid up alongside the younger blonde, elevator eyes taking in the sight of the white dress she had chosen for the occasion. There was something ethereal about it. In the way that the thick belt cinched at her waist like a corset, its crocodile leather made it look more like armour than an accessory. “My wife thought I deserved to see Logan being escorted out of the building by security,” Lily explained with a smirk, having long discarded the apple she had feasted on during Logan’s exiling.
“Yeah, well, I suppose you did,” Roman agreed, though he suspected he’d have to ask Nick if anything had transpired once Logan had left the room. He had watched the four assistants slip out during the start of his father’s tyrannical collapse.
“I believe you handed in your resignation, if the rumours are true,” she mused, folding her arms as she glanced into the room where her wife and mother were talking. The conference room looked relatively undisturbed, except for the carnage Logan had inflicted. “Rumours are true,” Roman admitted, accepting one of the champagne flutes that Emily appeared at his side with, though Lily politely declined the second glass.
“What are you going to do with your life now?” she asked, waiting for the first sip of champagne to hit before she started her questioning. “Your mother,” Roman announced with a contented sigh as the champagne took off the edge he was feeling. “ Yuck, Roman,” Lily whined, turning her face up as she looked away, plucking a little plate of fruit from one of the passing attendants. Trust Waystar to still be throwing a party with both Logan and Matsson out of the building.
“Nah, I don’t know, we’ll see,” Roman admitted, not in a rush to decide what he would be doing post-Waystar, though he had a vague idea of what he might be doing. “Well, Elise and I are here if you need any help figuring out what’s next,” Lily reminded him, keen to step up and offer both her mother and Roman the support they would need in the weeks and months to come as they transitioned into their new roles.
“We can talk about that later, for now, I want to get absolutely pissed. Big Gulp martinis all round, I’ll drink yours for you,” Roman announced, downing the rest of his champagne as he placed the empty flute down onto the table behind them.
“Not just yet, we have one last deal to make,” Lily reminded him, tapping the grey folder that she had tucked under her arm. Ah, yes.
Hugo.
“You want to take the lead on this?” Roman asked, still replaying the events from earlier in his head. He had enough blood on his hands for the day. “Think we need to pick someone up along the way,” Lily suggested, nodding her head across the executive floor to where Karolina was standing chatting with Frank and Karl, both of whom were talking rapidly with their hands, as though trying to figure out how everything had unfolded. How Logan had lost.
“You get her and I’ll call Hugo into my office,” Roman instructed, picking up another champagne flute as he went off to fetch Hugo from where he was talking in a huddle of junior associates.
Lily made her way across the executive floor, stopping by Alice, Emily, and Nancy to tell them to pass on a message to her mother and Elise that she and Roman were dealing with something in his office. “Karolina, do you mind coming with us?” she asked when she reached the older trio of executives, smiling at Frank as the man offered her his congratulations.
“What can I help you with?” Karolina asked, following Lily through the room towards Roman’s office, where she had seen the outgoing COO and Hugo stepped into a few moments earlier. “Oh, nothing, I just think you’d like to be here for what’s about to happen,” Lily explained as they reached the door of Roman’s office. “What do you mean?” Karolina questioned, glancing at the conspicuous looking folder under the blonde’s arm. “Oh, you’ll see,” Lily smirked, pushing down the door handle as she stepped inside, Karolina following behind her.
“Hello, Hugo, how are you?” she greeted, looking at the man who was sitting in the visitor’s chair in front of Roman’s desk. While everyone else was drinking champagne, it seemed that Hugo had helped himself to someone else’s whisky stash. Hugo opened and closed his mouth in quick succession. He had already seen one Kellman take down a giant today.
“You don’t know me but I’m Lily Kellman-Ward,” she introduced herself, walking around the desk to stand beside Roman’s chair, her mother’s partner already having made himself comfortable there. “Oh, I know who you are, ma’am,” Hugo assured her, cringing as he heard Roman laugh under his breath at Lily being referred to as ‘ma’am’.
“I’ve asked Karolina to be here to take notes,” Lily explained, nodding her head towards the sofa, waiting for the PR executive to take her seat before shifting her attending back to the man. “Sure, what’s this about? Not picking the new top team already, are you, Rome?” Hugo asked, trying to lighten the mood in the room, but he was increasingly feeling like he was about to find himself on the lunch menu. “I guess you could say we are,” Roman agreed, nodding his head as he leaned forward in his seat, giving Hugo a moment to fall into a false sense of security.
“Hugo, the truth is, you’re a piece of shit,” he announced with a low whistle, hands folded on the desk as he watched the older man’s face drop. “Oh, Rome, straight in there,” Lily sighed, walking around the desk to stand in front of it, putting herself between the two men. “Seeing as we’re just cutting to the chase here,” she said, keen to get this over and done with. “I’d like to make a deal with you. Which I think is a very gracious thing to do after the whole blackmailing thing,” Lily pointed out, watching out of the corner of her eye as Karolina shifted to the end of her seat, listening intently as she realised what she had been called in there for.
“What’s a little blackmail between corporate friends?” Hugo shrugged, feeling the ground opening up under him. “Funny, you say that,” Lily chuckled, leaning back against Roman’s desk as she picked up the folder she had set down there earlier. “My father documented your dirty dealings all the way back to the ‘80s. All that money you were funnelling into private accounts with fake expense submissions and invoices,” she announced, watching as the sweat started to roll down the slimy little man’s neck.
“Oh,” Hugo gulped.
“ Oh,” Roman mocked.
“Well, you can either pay us back the….sorry, what was the figure again, Lils?” Roman asked, leaning forward in his seat as if trying to look at the folder over the younger woman’s shoulder. “$23.76 million - before adjusting for inflation,” she read from the folder, glancing across the room to where a rather amused-looking Karolina was trying to put on her best poker face. Hugo was the next one to be exiled for his crimes.
“And that’s before we look at this stack of NDAs,” Lily added, picking up the A4 binder than Nick had delivered to Roman the day before. The most damning ones had been marked with a little post-it note on the side. There were at least twelve of them. All incidents of gross misconduct that would have had anyone else terminated from the company. Logan had kept him around as the useful idiot, the court jester that he could rely on in a sticky situation. But Logan wasn’t here to save him now.
“What do you want me to do?” Hugo asked, holding out his hands as if waiting for Lily to either cut them off in penance or shackle them together in handcuffs. “Resign, like yesterday,” Roman announced, handing over the resignation letter that Emily had already drafted up for Hugo while she had put together his own. “ We’d also like you to sign this NDA,” Lily added, pulling out the new NDA from the bottom of the folder, placing it next to Hugo’s resignation letter. Karolina appeared at the desk then, pen in hand as she held it out for Hugo to take.
“Sure, yeah, whatever you want,” Hugo agreed, snapping the pen from Karolina’s hand as he avoided looking at her. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the fact that she was there to make the embarrassment even worse. “We’ll treat it like a standard resignation. You’re going out with the old guard - no one will be suspicious of anything,” Karolina suggested as she retook her seat on the sofa as Hugo scribbled his signature on the NDA and resignation letter.
“Consider it a gesture of goodwill on this day of celebration,” Roman added, smirking to himself as Hugo threw down the papers onto his desk. “Sure, yeah, that works,” he said, getting up from his seat as he headed out of the room. He’d need to call his lawyer - and maybe his portfolio manager as well.
“Oh, by the way,” Lily spoke up, crossing her legs as she made herself comfortable on top of Roman’s desk. Hugo stopped before he reached the door, turning around in time to see Lily lick her lips. “Natalia sends her regards,” she smirked, watching as the man’s face went red. “Course she fucking does,” Hugo grumbled before he slammed the door shut behind him as he left.
“Did that make your day?” Roman asked Karolina, getting up from his seat as he took a look around his office. It wouldn’t be his for much longer. Perhaps this might be one of the last times he’d be in it. “More like my year,” she admitted, having enjoyed watching that unfold more than she’d ever admit.
“Mom will want to bring in a new leadership structure. I would say she’ll be pushing for you to take a step up,” Lily explained, knowing that Elise had mentioned Karolina’s name when discussing the potential new top team. “You think so?” Karolina asked as she followed Lily and Roman towards the door that Hugo had just practically ran out of.
“Europeans are big on democracy - or at least the appearance of it. Any new C-suite appointments will likely go to the board, but Elise has a seat on it now and she’ll back you,” Roman added, making a mental note to speak to Elise about the PR executive before the first board meeting the following week. “You’ve all really got it figured out, haven’t you?” Karolina asked, stopping by the door as she looked at the pair.
“Matsson, according to Elise, wants to take a hands-off approach to U.S. operations, there will be plenty of scope for a new VP of Communications and PR,” Lily pointed out, stepping out of the room first. “Well, I’m ready to step up. Even more so with Hugo out of the way now,” Karolina insisted, heading out after her. “We’ll talk about it later, I think Elise wants to touch base with you though, so stick around for a bit,” Lily instructed, before her and Roman headed off in search of their significant others.
By now the executive floor had turned into a hub of activity. The junior associates had trickled up to the executive floor once they had heard the news about Logan’s departure, helping themselves to the drinks and hor d'oeuvres that had been laid out for the post-deal celebrations that now felt altogether different. It was somewhere between a wake and a celebration.
Nick picked up two champagne flutes, his eyes darting around the executive floor in sight of that familiar head of brunette hair, always tied up in a tidy little French twist. Where was Nancy? He hadn’t seen her since Logan had left.
She wasn’t at her desk or with the other assistants, but all her things were missing. The stack of 6-months worth of Vogue magazines that Nancy used as a laptop stand were gone. Her little stack of cosmetics weren’t there, either. The cubicle had been returned to its grey, lifeless appearance. Almost any trace of Nancy was gone. Except for a little white note and an object sparkling underneath it.
Something turned in the bottom of his stomach. Was that what he thought it was? There in Nancy’s neat, cursive handwriting was a note, her diamond bracelet tucked under it. He picked them up, the thickness of the paper made it evident that it had been her personal stationery. The set he had seen Emily gift her for her birthday with a little N initial in the corner of the paper. Her cursive handwriting was scribbled across the centre of the notecard, “I know it was real”.
Nancy had known that the bracelet was real. The one he had tried to shrug off as a cubic zirconia style when he gave it to her for her birthday. He should have known that she could tell that the diamonds were real. Nancy could always tell. She had spent her life gawking into the windows of jewellery stores. Their very own Holly Golightly with her humble beginnings and big dreams.
But that wasn’t the only thing that was real. It had been real. They had been real. Did she know that? Was that what she had meant as well? Nick felt something shift in him then. Nancy was gone. Had disappeared when his back was turned.
“Where’s Nanc?” he asked, making a beeline towards where Roman was standing with Emily and Alice, looking as if he was thanking them for their work in the lead up to the deal as Elise and Gerri headed out of the conference room. “You didn’t know?” Roman questioned, crossing his arms as he looked at his second assistant. “Didn’t know what?” Nick questioned, his dropping as he stepped forward, eyes darting from Roman to his fellow assistant.
“Oh, Nick, I’m sorry,” Emily sighed, shaking her head. They had all been sworn to secrecy not to tell him until after she had left the building. She just hadn’t counted on Nick realising so quickly. “It was her last day today,” she explained, watching as the man’s face dropped, the colour draining from it. “Where is she?” Nick demanded, the little tennis bracelet still clutched between his fingers, the note now crumpled alongside it.
“Where does Nancy go to think?” Alice suggested, the pointed look she gave Nick told him everything he needed to know. “The library,” he sighed, already rummaging around in his pocket for the keys to his motorbike. The New York Public Library. The one place on Earth you would always find Nancy when she needed to think. “Right, okay, I need to go after her,” he announced, already halfway across the room as he shouted his parting words over his shoulder.
“ Why didn’t you just tell him she’s coming to work for me?” Lily asked, stopping next to Roman and the assistants as they watched Nick manically pressing the elevator button before giving up and heading down the fire exit.
Nancy had, as requested, sent Lily her portfolio after Gerri’s birthday dinner. It was enough for Lily to bring to the photography department to get Nancy a job interview within a week. Nancy would report to her as one of the junior photographers in the advertising department. A vertical move but one that got her foot in the door at Condé Nast.
“Let Prince Charming run after Cinderella,” Roman observed, tapping Lily’s arm as he heard the conference door open behind them. “Was that Nick I saw running out of here like he was auditioning for the 100 metre sprint?” Gerri asked as she walked up to Roman, accepting the champagne flute he was holding out for her.
“He’s away after Nancy,” Roman explained as Lily and Elise hugged each other, giving the wives a moment of privacy as he turned towards Gerri. “Ah, so that’s worked out after all,” she smiled, sipping on her champagne as she watched Emily and Alice huddled together, looking at a phone screen as though they were trying to track Nick and Nancy’s respective journeys that would inevitably bring them back to each other.
“My second assistant and your second assistant. Who would have thought, hey?” Roman joked, though part of him had long suspected something would happen there. As if there was invisible string tying them to one another. The sensible bookworm without a hair out of place and the playboy trust fund kid with an unrealised potential.
“Stranger things have happened,” Gerri countered, knowing that she would put the events of that afternoon far higher on the list of unlikely outcomes. “When do you think it started?” Roman asked, having always wondered when Nick and Nancy went from being two separate entities to being Nick and Nancy.
“Japan,” Gerri answered.
“No, I didn’t mean us, I meant them,” Roman clarified.
“The answer is the same,” she pointed out, having somehow not seen it at the time. Japan had been the beginning of everything - and not just for them. “Oh, really?” Roman questioned, not remembering much from Japan outside of his time with Gerri, that was what dominated his memories of that trip. Everything else seemed to blur into the background.
“Come on, you’ve seen the way he looks at her,” Gerri challenged, surprised that he hadn’t seen those stolen looks between them in Japan. The pair of them couldn’t have been more obvious if they had tried. Roman shrugged his shoulders, he had only ever noticed it after Italy, when he became more observant of the people in their little bubble. It was probably the same way he looked at Gerri.
“Where’s the spud?” Roman asked, directing his question to Lily and Elise as the two women appeared back next to them. Lily seemed to have acquired a non-alcoholic drink to make up for her lack of champagne.
“Maddie is bringing her up. I sent her Fredrick’s number, I think they’re almost here anyway,” Elise explained, having decided it would be better for Roman’s driver to bring the pair over instead of calling for one of the Ward Inc drivers. Selina knew the older British man and that extra little sense of security went a long way right now.
The elevator doors opened and Selina was out of the metal box before they had opened the full way, Maddie coming behind her. “This place is big,” the girl announced, wide eyes looking up as she took in the grey interior of the executive floor. “It’s as big as Mama’s office,” she whispered loudly to Madeline as her aunt fell into step alongside her.
Gerri handed her champagne flute off to Roman as she sneaked her way through the little groups of executives and associates, making her way towards where the girls were waiting next to her office. “GG!” Selina greeted when the older woman came into her line of sight. “Hello, you,” Gerri laughed, reaching down to pick up the girl who held her arms out towards her. She held her a little tighter now, arms locked around the girl as she rested her cheek on top of her blonde curls. But there were no demons here now. No bogeymen hiding in the shadows.
“Hi, Mom,” Maddie cut-in, stepping around Lily to hug Gerri, mindful of the little girl in her arms. “Thank you for coming,” Gerri acknowledged, holding one arm out to hug her youngest daughter. Now she understood why Roman had been so keen to get Madeline home before Matsson’s arrival. He had wanted her to have this moment with all her girls there. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Maddie insisted with a smile, taking a champagne flute from Alice as her mother’s assistant appeared at her side.
“Where’s Ro?” Selina asked, raising her head over Gerri’s shoulder as she looked around for the man. “Talking to your Mommy and Mama,” Gerri explained, her arms linked under Selina’s knees as she held her up, feeling a hand slip onto her back as someone slid up beside her. “I’m here!” Roman announced, ruffling the girl’s hair as he greeted her before saying hello to Maddie. There was a plush toy squeezed against Selina’s chest that looked distinctly like the one he had bought her the weekend before.
“Mom, why don’t you show Selina around?” Lily suggested as her and Elise walked over to join their little group. The fact Selina was even in the building spoke volumes. Told Gerri that Lily trusted her enough with the little girl to bring her to the epicentre of what had been Logan Roy’s universe. “You sure?” Gerri asked, still a little uncertain. “Yeah, I need to speak to Maddie about something,” Lily insisted, waving her younger sister over so that they could speak about something away from the group.
“Do you want to walk?” Gerri asked, carrying Selina in the direction of her office and away from the watching eyes of the executives and associates. Hopefully the champagne and free food would be enough to distract them from watching too closely. “No, it’s fun up here,” Selina replied, her spud plush tucked under her arm as her other hand stayed wrapped around the back of Gerri’s neck. “You would say that,” Gerri agreed, heaving her up in her arms as Roman pushed open the door of her office, holding it for them.
“This is where Grandpa BB used to work, it’s my office, now,” Gerri explained, taking her time to walk the girl around the room, while Roman stayed near the door. He wanted her to have that moment with Selina without him intruding on it. Roman listened as Gerri pointed out the trinkets on her desk, explaining what the papers were and what she did for her job.
“I see you have smuggled the other spud into the office,” he remarked when they finished their circle around the room, returning to him at the door. “She hasn’t gone anywhere without him since Saturday, except for preschool,” Lily announced, arriving at the door, giving the couple the impression that she needed to speak to her mother.
“Rome, why don’t you show Selina your office?” Gerri suggested, handing the girl over to him as she waved Lily into her office. “Come on, we can raid Emily’s desk for jelly beans,” he suggested, setting the girl onto his hip as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her plush held over his back. “Can I have the green ones?” Selina asked as they headed out. “We’ll see what we can do,” Roman paused, his eyes tracking for his first assistant. “Yo, Emily, where’s that jar of jelly beans?” he called as he crossed the executive floor towards the assistants’ cubicles.
Lily waited for the door to shut behind Roman and Selina before turning to her mother. “Dad would have been very proud of you, Mom,” she acknowledged. It was the one thing Lily was sure of. Baid had always believed in Gerri. Never once spoke down about her career or suggested that she would be better off staying at home with them. Her father had instilled in her a belief from a young age that there was no one as intelligent as her mother. He would have been the first to congratulate her.
“That means a lot, especially from you,” Gerri acknowledged, aware of how only a few months ago this would have been Lily’s idea of her own personal hell. “My mother, the CEO,” Lily smirked, walking around to look at her mother’s desk, admiring the random little trinkets that were lined up neatly in place. Most looked to have been souvenirs from work trips. A little Maneki Neko sat next to her computer screen, clearly a keepsake from her trip to Japan. Had Roman bought it for her? It was the sort of thing Lily could imagine him buying her mother as a ‘joke’ when really he knew those sort of sentimental gifts were the ones she treasured most.
“Elise told me she did it for you, taking ATN out from under Logan’s nose,” Gerri acknowledged, watching as her daughter picked up the little black cat ornament, turning it in her hands before setting it back down exactly where she had found it. “She did it for dad - and for her dad, as well,” Lily insisted, refusing to allow her mother to think that Elise had done it solely for her.
“Maybe you’ll end up as CEO of ATN,” Gerri joked, wondering just how far Elise’s master plan stretched into the future. “ Oh, god no,” Lily sighed, crossing her arms as she turned around to lean back against her mother’s desk, facing the woman. “I’ll stick to advertising for a while. Never say never, but…that’s not the role I’d want,” she insisted. Lily knew her wife well enough to know that she had a plan for every letter of the alphabet. And none of them involved her becoming CEO of ATN. Not with Elise’s other ambitions.
Something caught her eye through the glass partition. “Dear god, that jar is as big as Selina,” she exclaimed, watching as Roman tried to balance Selina in one arm and the old school candy jar in the other. “Em’s got a sweet tooth,” Gerri chuckled, walking towards the glass partition as she looked out at the pair. “I better go rescue my kid,” Lily announced, concerned that Roman was going to either drop her only child or let her eat the entire jar of jelly beans that looked larger than her four-year old frame.
“Mom,” Lily paused by the door, turning back to look at her mother. “Keep this as your office. Let Matsson have Logan’s. Dad would have wanted you to stay here,” she suggested, doubting that her mother would necessarily want to sit in Logan’s old seat. It would feel a little bit too much like stealing the throne. Perhaps she would suggest to Elise that it should be restructured into another meeting room - anything to remove the traces of Logan. “Oh, I added a little something to your desk when I was in here earlier,” Lily called over her shoulder as she left, leaving her mother standing confused in the middle of the room.
It only took her a few minutes to notice them. The little silver frames that were tucked next to the stack of hardcover books that sat on the bench behind her desk. While the photos she already had there were professional ones, usually from Waystar events, these ones were different.
Three black and white pictures stood in matching frames, similar to the one she had seen in Selina’s bedroom. One was a photo Elise had taken of Lily on their honeymoon, the blonde standing on a beach with her flip-flops in hand as walked across the sand. The second was Maddie on the deck of Erik’s sailboat, holding up what Gerri could only assume was the largest fish her daughter had ever caught.
Selina was the third picture. It must have been taken earlier that week, judging by the fact the spud plush was visible in the girl’s hand. She was sitting in the back seat of a car, Lily’s sunglasses perched on the edge of her nose as she stuck her tongue out at the camera. There was the mischievous little ballerina that had her wrapped around her little finger.
Gerri picked up each picture in turn, feeling the familiar sensation of tears stinging at the back of her eyes. She took her time in rearranging the pictures on the bench, moving the older ones to the back to bring the three photos of the girls to the very front. There was no one here now to judge her for having photos of her family on display.
Roman cleared his throat from the door, having been standing watching her for the last five minutes. He had grown used to watching her, so much so that it no longer unnerved her. Not when he spent his days watching her sleep, watching her brush her hair in the morning and do all the little things in her day that he now associated solely with her. He couldn’t walk past a perfume bottle without picturing her spraying it against her neck and pulse points the way she did every morning before leaving their bedroom.
“So if I’m Octavian, what does that make you… Cleopatra?” he teased, squinting his eyes as he tried to imagine Gerri in an Elizabeth Taylor worthy get-up. Maybe he’d buy a gigantic pearl to drop into one of her martinis instead of an olive. “Pick up a history book, Rome,” Gerri smirked, stepping around her desk as she shook her head, leaning against the front of it as he walked towards her.
“Oh,” he paused, trying to rattle his head for another example. “ Josephine and Napoleon?” Roman suggested, stopping in front of her, his hands naturally finding her waist. By now more of the associates and executives had moved into the conference rooms, offering them a little privacy in Gerri’s office.
“Oh, god, no,” Gerri scolded, her hands fiddling with his shirt once more before she rested her hand on his shoulder. Though Josephine had been older than Napoleon, she hoped that was where the similarities ended. “ Alright, Evie O’Connell. Who are we then?” Roman asked, his eyes catching hers as he lost himself in them for a moment.
This had always been their great struggle. Deciding what they were to each other. What society label to slap on their relationship. Boyfriend and girlfriend didn’t work. It was too juvenile and didn’t reflect how deeply he felt about her. Partner was too much like corporate lingo. Roommates made him want to throw up and lovers was a label that existed solely in the pages of European literature from a time when men chased after women with flowers in hand like the end scene in a William Powell movie.
“ We don’t have to be anyone else,” Gerri insisted, her fingertips drawing little circles on the back of his neck. “Just rockstar and the molewoman, then?” he asked, smiling down at her as she nodded back to him. They didn’t need to fit into anyone else’s labels. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought.
“Roman, promise me something,” Gerri said, pausing as she bit down on the side of her lip, fidgeting with his shirt collar. “Anything,” he responded without missing a beat. “No more lies,” she declared, eyes meeting his as she cupped his cheek, her fingertips feeling the stubble of his five o’clock shadow. “No more lies,” he repeated, closing the gap between them as he kissed her, tasting the champagne that was still lingering on her lips.
He didn’t work here anymore. He could kiss wherever he wanted. The rules be damned.
Roman pushed her up against the desk, fighting against the urge for his hands to push at the hemline of her skirt. If they were at the penthouse, he’d already have both of them on top of the table, but he knew all too well about how visible Gerri’s office was.
He almost gave in, feeling Gerri’s hand slipping down to the belt loop of his trousers when he heard Elise clearing her throat as she loudly announced her arrival at the office door.
“I’m sorry to break up this lovefest, but I’ve taken the liberty of calling our drivers to take us all out for a celebratory dinner. Assistants and all,” Elise announced, shouting across the office as she gave the couple a moment to adjust themselves. “And me!” Selina called, though her muffled voice suggested that her mother was holding her back behind her legs. “Yes, and you, Selina,” she agreed as Gerri fixed her blazer, walking around Roman to head towards the door.
“Oh, Elise. Don’t put yourself out like that,” Gerri insisted, feeling bad that Elise was once against the one who seemed to be organising everything. “Roman and I have been talking about these martini Big Gulps all week - and I think we all deserve a slap-up meal,” Elise insisted, making it evident that it was very much in her own interests for them all to go out. “Come on, Ger, you deserve to celebrate,” Roman agreed, gathering up her things as Lily and Elise gathered up the rest of the guests who were coming to dinner with them.
It seemed that all their respective assistants - though only Alice and Emily were there - had been invited, along with Frank, Karl, and Karolina. “Congratulations, Gerri,” Frank smiled, stepping forward to hug Gerri before they walked into the elevator. “Karl, what is this I’ve heard about you buying a private island with your brother-in-law?” Gerri asked after the older man congratulated her on her new role.
“How do you know that?” Karl asked as Frank tried to hide his smirk behind his phone screen. “I have my own Nancy Drew,” Gerri reminded him, hoping that somewhere across New York, her Nancy Drew was having a Cinderella moment.
Twenty minutes later the motorcade of town cars and SUVs pulled up in the alleyway alongside the Italian restaurant that Elise and Roman had chosen for dinner. “I know the owner, I got them to clear out the restaurant,” Roman explained as he helped Gerri out of the car, while Madeline got out of the front after riding in the passenger seat next to Fredrick. “You didn’t have to do that,” Gerri insisted, her hand locked through his arm as they walked towards the restaurant door where the others were waiting on them.
Elise, Frank, and Karl made a beeline to the bar. While she ordered a martini for each of the guests who could drink, Frank and Karl bittered over the wine menu to decide which bottles to order for the table. Elise looked at the pair out of the corner of her eye, wondering if they were friends or ‘friends’ with each other as she took the first two martinis as soon as they were ready.
“Selina, you can sit here,” Lily announced as she tried to get everyone seated around the one long table that had been set-up in the centre of the room. It felt like a last-minute Thanksgiving dinner that had been thrown together with the uncles she’d only see on holiday weekends and the assistants who had become more like surrogate cousins than her mother’s employees.
Selina sat across from Roman and Gerri with her mothers on either side of her, while Frank, Karl, and Karolina sat at the end of the table. Madeline was seated between Karolina and her mother, while Emily and Alice sat at the other end of the table next to Roman and Elise.
Alice and Emily were huddled together, heads side by side as they giggled at something on Emily’s phone screen as the waitress appeared, handing out the menus. One of the bartenders appeared, setting down wine buckets in the middle of the table with the bottles Frank and Karl had eventually agreed on.
“All right, you two, what is it?” Gerri asked, leaning over Roman’s arm as she looked down the table at their two executive assistants, taking a sip of her martini. Alice smirked at Gerri, showing her teeth as she tapped excitedly on the table. “Can we get another two settings put down, please?” Emily asked the waitress as she handed her a menu. She wondered for a second if that was why the table had two extra seats saved at the very end. Roman had always known that Nick would pull through.
“Wait, hold on. Did Nick find her?” Gerri questioned, almost choking on her martini as Emily nodded her head. “They’re on their way here,” she explained, before the news travelled up to the middle of the table. “Bartender, two more martinis please,” Elise called towards the bar, as Lily pinched the bridge of her nose, laughing to herself.
“Yo, Lily, do you have a pen?” Roman hissed across the table as Gerri leaned over the back of his chair to speak to Emily. “What do you need it for?” Lily asked with an eye roll, opening her bag and digging through it to get him a pen, watching him snap it out of her hand as he brushed her off.
The bell above the restaurant door chimed as Nick and Nancy arrived, providing a distraction while Roman scribbled something down onto one of the cocktail napkins. Emily and Alice jumped out of their seats to greet the pair, while Gerri sat back as she watched on with an amused smile from the table.
There on Nancy’s wrist was the diamond bracelet. The same one that Nick had ran out of the office clutching in his hands. He had finally told her what he had known since Japan. Confessed to his lies and told her his secrets between the Charles Dickens and Mark Twain manuscripts. She had - after a little persuading - apologised for slapping him at the RECNY ball, before admitting that part of the reason she had taken the job with Lily was for the independence that would allow her to feel more like his equal.
Roman slipped the cocktail napkin in front of Gerri’s martini as she got up from her seat to hug Nancy, while Frank and Karl put a large glass of wine into Nick’s hand. “I told you it would sort itself out,” Gerri reminded her now former assistant, before letting Emily and Alice steal her away again.
The napkin fell onto Gerri’s lap as she sat back down again. She recognised the handwriting by now. That distinctive chicken scratch writing that could only belong to one person. She held the napkin under the table, pulling back the neat little fold he had made to look at the note.
“Ro!” Selina called across the table, but the man didn’t hear. The little girl tilted her head as she watched Roman lean closer to Gerri, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as he whispered something into her ear.
Roman winked at Selina as he pulled away, quietly sipping on his martini as Gerri smirked next to him, unable to make eye contact with anyone else at the table.
In a little Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side of New York, Selina Kellman-Ward learned the valuable life lesson that some lies are worth telling. That the very best ones can open up a path that ends in a penthouse above the streets of New York with a tortoise, a box full of notes written on cocktail napkins, and old opera records.
In the years to come that would be the story she would be told about the months leading up to that dinner. About the relationships and the people who would become mainstays at Roman and Gerri’s home throughout her childhood. The lesson she’d hear about on the day they got married and on the night her grandmother retired from the company she had devoted her professional life to.
Some lies were worth telling and secrets worth keeping - but only when they served your interests.
Notes:
Phew, you made it!
Thank you for sticking it out. I hope you enjoyed this fic and found it a satisfying ending. I would hear what you think. The epilogue will be along in due course, though it does feature a time skip! If you ever happen to have a one shot request for TLWT universe, you can drop me a line or hit me up on twitter (@cleosmuses).
Chapter 26: Wish Upon a Star
Notes:
Wow, I did not expect this epilogue to take so long. Truthfully, most of it has been sitting gathering dust in my Google Docs since January - but then, as tends to happen, I got distracted with the Macbeth AU and other things. I tend to find if I don't keyboard smash something out, I get distracted and....well, this happens.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
11 Months Later | The RECNY Ball
“Are you sure we can’t take Vesper with us?” Roman pleaded, having unwillingly put her to bed twenty minutes earlier, those big brown eyes having guilt tripped him the entire time.
“No, especially not tonight, she’ll make a scene and I’m not sitting with her on my lap all night. Plus it wouldn’t be appropriate,” Gerri insisted, trying to get her third earring into its piercing as she stood in front of the mirror, catching Roman’s reflection behind her. “She’ll be fine here, Rome, you worry too much,” she reminded him with a smile, “It’s past her bedtime anyway, she’ll not even know we’re gone.”
Roman folded his arms, the cuffs of his shirt still needing to be done up. “We can’t leave her all alone, what sort of parents would that make us, Ger?” he asked defensively. Roman held up the little toy tortoise in his hand that Vesper had been playing with earlier.
“Maddie is coming over later anyway, she’s staying the night. We’re taking Vesper to brunch with us tomorrow,” Gerri tried to reason with him, but he was stubborn when it came to anything to do with Vesper. “But Gerri,” Roman pleaded again, wrapping his arms around her waist as he looked at her through the mirror.
“Roman, she’s a dog,” Gerri dead-panned.
“She’s a 12 week old puppy, she’s just a baby,” he protested.
“She will be fine. I promise,” Gerri assured him, taking in their reflection in the full length mirror before nodding her head towards the open De Beers box sitting on the nearby dresser. “Can you do the honours?” she asked, as she thought back not for the first time of the night that he had given her that necklace. Roman tilted the box towards him, careful with the clasp as he lifted the necklace and stepped around Gerri to put it on her. “You know, this really was worth the eye-watering sums I paid for it,” he whistled, fingers focusing on doing up the clasp correctly. He had fallen foul to it more than once.
“I don’t usually wear it with so much clothing,” Gerri agreed, putting on her usual corporate voice, the one he enjoyed listening to on the rare occasion when she was working from home. Of the last four times Gerri had worn that necklace, lingerie was the most she had worn with it. If Princess Margaret could wear nothing but diamonds in a bathtub, then so could she.
“Don’t worry. I plan to fix that later,” he announced, dropping a kiss on the curve of her neck before he stepped back. The dress was her signature colour, emerald green, with a square neckline that reminded him of something Bette Davis might wear in one of those old black and white movies. “You’re incorrigible,” Gerri scolded as she looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, his hands resting for a moment on her waist.
“Hold on. I need to ask Siri what that means,” he teased, dodging out of the way as she turned around to tap him on the arm. “Just let me finish getting ready, I’ll be out in a few minutes,” she insisted, turning around to watch him gather up his jacket and head out to the lounge so she could apply her perfume and one last coat of mascara.
When she finished five minutes later, Roman was exactly where she expected him to be. Sitting on the floor next to Vesper’s oversized gingham dog bed in the lounge. “Roman,” Gerri warned, stopping near the door as she tucked her clutch bag under her arm, checking the backs of her earrings. “Vesper will be fine. You have that puppy cam on your phone. She won’t even notice us gone,” she reminded him as she headed towards the door, taking a second to check her outfit in the hallway mirror.
“ Fine, but we’re going to the Hamptons early tomorrow,” he compromised, sounding like a child trying to debate their bedtime. “You won’t hear me complaining about that,” she agreed, though she doubted anyone at Waystar would be doing any actual work the next day.
The Hamptons house had been Roman’s idea but something that hadn’t taken much convincing on Gerri’s part. While the penthouse apartment was still technically Gerri’s, although Roman lived there full time after he gave his apartment over to Madeline when she finally decided to set down roots, the Hamptons house was theirs. Even if it was Gerri’s name on the deed. Roman had paid for the furniture and interior design. The nearest thing they could agree on to a 50/50 split.
They made a point of spending their weekends there with Gerri taking advantage of Matsson’s virtually compulsory ‘work from home on Fridays’ policy. More often than not at least one of the girls spent part of the weekend there, but they made a point of always having one weekend alone there. If you didn’t include Vesper.
“Freddie, how are you?” Gerri greeted the British chauffeur as he opened the car door for her. “You look lovely, Ms. Kellman,” he acknowledged with a smile, helping tuck her dress in as Roman got into the car from the other side. “Is he ever going to just call me Gerri?” she asked, turning to look at him as he got in next to her. “That’s the Brits for you,” he joked before Fredrick got back into the driver’s seat and the car pulled away from the apartment.
That RECNY ball was a landmark occasion in itself, regardless of the guest list. The first without Logan Roy at the helm with a greater family focus, moving away from its reliance on the Waystar Royco name and serving its greater function as a charitable event. The press attention felt a little more intense than the year before, but Gerri felt considerably more comfortable on the red carpet this year than the year before.
Waiting at the end of the photocall were two former assistants, martinis in hand. “So is that why I couldn’t find you all afternoon?” Roman asked as he took in Emily’s fresh spray tan. “Be glad I didn’t charge it to the company card after all the reshoots you made us do this week,” she responded, her tone making it clear that her boss was on shaky ground with her.
“Oh, Nancy looks lovely,” Gerri greeted and Roman stepped out of the way to clear the path for Gerri to hug her former second assistant. While his former assistant still worked for him, Nancy was flourishing in her new role at Conde Nast. “I see the necklace is getting another night out,” Nancy teased, admiring the way the diamonds caught the light at just the right angle to sparkle against Gerri’s skin. “Yes, well, I thought it was a good excuse,” Gerri replied, hand on her former assistant’s arm as they laughed together.
“I thought you might need this,” Nick announced as he clears his throat, finding his usual spot next to his boss. Roman had taken both of his assistants with him when he left Waystar and started his own production company. Nick and Emily were a Senior Producer and Production Coordinator accordingly. Though Emily’s unofficial job title was “Roman’s Deputy”.
“Nicky, hi,” Gerri greeted, not sure if she felt happier to see him or the martini in his hand. “Hey, Gerri, sorry we kept him late on the set today,” Nick acknowledged as he gave her the first martini before turning to his boss. Roman nodded his thanks as he took the martini glass that Nick was holding outstretched towards him. He tried to hide his yawn by turning to the side, spotting a familiar head of red hair across the room.
So Shiv had shown up after all. They had texted a little back and forth, rubbed shoulders at enough events to give the illusion of them being on speaking terms, but they were still working through everything. At least she had shown up though, but Roman knew that was probably for Tom’s benefit.
“When was the last time you slept through the night?” Nick asked in a slightly irritating ‘ I told you so’ tone that he inherited from Nancy as he guided the group towards their designated table in the centre of the room. “When did we start shooting this movie?” Roman mumbled against the rim of his martini glass. “Touche,” Nick replied, glancing over to where Nancy and Gerri were standing off to the side in deep conversation with each other. Those two seemed to be even closer now than they had been when Nancy was working for her.
“There’s only another two weeks, then it’s done,” Roman said, more to himself than to his junior executive. The first production was always going to be the hardest but they had somehow managed to run it like a tight ship, after all, they had a rather important deadline. “You’re all cutting it a bit fine,” Nick warned, having woken up more than once in fear that the filming of the studio’s debut movie wouldn’t wrap up in time.
“So long as Lily doesn’t go into labour while Elise is on set or something,” Roman reminded him, having already had that horrible thought on more than one occasion. There was a small commotion that started near the entrance that caught Nick’s attention as he nudged his boss’ arm. “Speaking of the future Senator for the State of New York,” Nick observed, smirking behind his martini glass.
“You think she’s serious about that?” Roman groaned, thinking that was the last thing any of them needed. Elise had said it in a way Roman had assumed was a throwaway comment. Until that throwaway comment happened on three more occasions and suddenly it hadn’t felt like a hypothetical anymore.
“Oh, deadly serious,” Nick responded with a firm nod. “So anyone with money can be a politician?” Roman asked, though the irony of someone in his position asking that wasn’t lost on him. “Go for a joint ticket. Elise as POTUS and you as VP. The campaign slogans write themselves,” Nick suggested, a seriousness to his tone that made his boss raise his eyebrows.
“What dystopian shit have you been watching?” Roman choked on his martini at the idea. “Listen, I’ve seen like three episodes of The West Wing, I know how presidential campaigns work. I’ll be your Chief of Staff,” Nick proposed in a matter-of-fact tone. “And what? Nancy will be our C.J.?” Roman questioned, though his words seemed to have summoned his partner’s favourite former assistant.
“Action stations,” Nancy whispered as she stepped up behind the pair, nodding her head towards the commotion that appeared to be unfolding near the door. “Ger’s away to chat to Frank about something, but that has to be Lily and Elise,” she explained when she caught Roman’s fleeting glance to her side, as though expecting the older blonde to be standing there.
“Nanc, can you do the jackal?” he asked.
“The what now?” she leaned forward, looking at him as if he had suddenly gone mad.
“Never mind,” Roman shook his head.
A few seconds later Elise emerged from the crowd, parting them like the red sea as she guided Lily slowly into the room. There was something ethereal about the younger blonde and Roman wasn’t sure if it was the diamond stars in her hair or the shock at her appearance that seemed to be attracting every eye towards their little corner of the room. Not even Gerri had been expecting Lily to show up, but her appearance was for the sake of showing a united front.
Even if she was nine months pregnant in heels.
“Nancy, darling, you look spectacular. Please tell me you raided that from the closet?” Elise greeted the only person in the group who didn’t work for Roy-Ward Studios. “Guilty as charged,” Nancy chuckled, looking down at the pink strapless tulle Monique Lhuillier dress she had swiped from the Vogue closet.
“Don’t I get a hug and a kiss?” Roman pouted from the side of the little group. “I see you enough as it is,” Elise complained, though she still stepped forward to hug her business partner.
“Hello, Rome,” Lily greeted as her wife finished hugging her mother’s partner, taking her place as she stepped towards him. It’s a half hug at best, Lily leaning across to wrap her arms around Roman’s shoulder, tilting her bump away.
“How’s Roman Junior doing?” he joked, his hand on Lily’s arm as he kept her close. “We are not naming the baby after you,” Elise scoffed, making it evident that this was not the first time the baby name had been suggested. “He or she is getting very snug in there, whatever their name is going to be,” Lily replied, her left hand resting on the top of her bump as she visibly shifted uncomfortably in her gown.
“Bad news, I think Karl is already drunk,” Gerri announced as she arrived back to the little huddle that the group had formed off to the side of their table in the centre of the ballroom. It took her a second to realise their little group had expanded.
“You’re in heels?” Gerri cried, spotting the distinctive pointed toe of Lily’s signature Louboutins peeking out from under the hem of her dress. “Hello to you too, Mother,” Lily greeted, slowly lowering herself down onto the seat at the centre of the table, Nancy and Emily stepping forward to help her.
“ She’ll probably give birth in heels,” Elise sniggered, sipping on her martini as Lily glared out of the corner of her eye. “I need one of you to deliver a martini to the delivery room after I push this thing out,” she announced, having now gone almost a year without her beloved elixir. “Martini IV, got it,” Roman noted as he gave Emily a pointed look that told her she would be responsible for somehow making that happen.
“No, absolutely not. You need to be getting your fluids into you. I’ve got a meal service sorted out for the first few weeks,” Gerri announced, having taken it upon herself to cram 30 years worth of missed parenting opportunities into the duration of Lily’s pregnancy.
“Geez. You’re such a control freak,” Roman smirked as he walked around the table towards Gerri. “I prefer the term ‘control connoisseur ’, if you don’t mind,” she corrected him. “And I prefer you with your dancing shoes on,” he declared, taking her hand in his as he turned towards the dance floor where several other couples were already dancing to the jazz music being played by the orchestra.
“No, Roman,” Gerri tried to protest but he had already gotten them halfway to the dance floor. “Come on, I am not having us upstaged by Tom bleeding Wambsgans,” he declared, having spotted Tom on the dance floor trying to dance with several of the other executives in some awkward little group circle.
While Tom was on the dancefloor, Shiv had been waiting for the right moment to approach. It came a few minutes later when Elise, Emily, Nick, and Nancy had gone to circulate around the room, leaving Lily alone to rest at their table. “Lily, hi,” Shiv greeted, lightly touching the woman’s arm, having realised that Lily was trying not to fall asleep.
“Hi, Shiv,” Lily said, clearly surprised by the other woman approaching her. “I would get up and hug you but I just sat down,” she explained with a heavy sigh, though she nodded her head to the empty seat next to her. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Shiv acknowledged, taking the seat as he glanced over towards the dancefloor where Roman and Gerri were swaying back and forth.
“I seriously needed to get out of the house, I’m just in complete nesting mode right now. I ended up alphabetising all the books in Selina’s bedroom yesterday out of sheer boredom,” Lily revealed, taking one of the olives out of one of the little white bowls in the centre of the table. The olive took away the edge of needing a martini - even if Elise didn’t appreciate the 2am runs to the store to refill the mini fridge in their master bedroom. Someone, probably Alice, had seen to it that there was a bowl of olives on their table for her.
“I ended up reorganising the entire kitchen the night before Rose was born, I think I was restocking the pickles when my water broke,” Shiv sympathised with her. “I’d take that at this stage,” Lily sighed, twirling the cocktail ring she was wearing on her left hand in place of her usual engagement and wedding bands.
She was too tired to beat around the bush much longer.
“Have you spoken to Roman yet?” Lily asked her unlikely companion. “I’m making a slow walk in his direction,” Shiv admitted, though Lily thought it almost looked as though the other woman was scared of approaching him. Things were so strange now and it seemed as if Roman and Shiv were entirely different people than who they had been a year ago.
“Listen, Shiv,” Lily started, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she decided this was her one chance to do something helpful for her mother. “If you’re going to give me a lecture, we’re both too sleep-deprived for that, Lily,” Shiv warned, slightly defensively as she sat up straighter. “I’m not - but Roman’s changed a lot in the last year. I never thought it would happen but it has and I don’t think you should miss out on being part of each other’s lives right now,” Lily decided, a certain wisdom in her voice that told Shiv she was speaking from personal experience. The younger blonde had lost valuable years with her mother that she was never going to get back - and she didn’t want Shiv to make the same mistake with her brother.
“Well, do you think they’re going all the way?” Shiv asked.
“Marriage?” Lily questioned.
“Yep,” Shiv nodded.
“My mother won’t be a Roy,” Lily declared confidently, though she imagined the idea of it would probably have been enough to put Logan in an early grave. Not that any of them had seen much of him in the past year. “Roman could always become a Kellman,” Shiv suggested, knowing nothing would surprise her now.
“I don’t think they need a piece of paper to make it official,” Lily shook her head, having no idea what her mother’s thoughts on a potential second marriage were. “Fair. They haven’t done anything by the book,” Shiv agreed, having heard that Roman practically moved in with Gerri after their first week of dating.
“Come and see them in the Hamptons house,” Lily suggested, suspecting it would be up to her to bring the two youngest Roy siblings back together. She had seen Connor around, after all, he was a fairly frequent visitor to the Hamptons house, but Kendall was still out of the picture. “So, it’s true they’ve bought a house there?” Shiv asked, having only kept up with her brother for the last year through the gossip of the grapevine.
“We all spend a week or two there a month, including Maddie. Though Mom and Roman tend to head out there on a Thursday night and come back Sunday afternoon,” Lily explained, knowing it was a routine that was firmly in place for them, except on the rare occasion where Gerri had to travel for work. “Once this one serves his or her eviction notice, I’ll arrange something,” she decided, suspecting getting them out of New York and the constant reminders of their father might help make the reconciliation easier. “I’d like that,” Shiv agreed, deciding it was now time to turn a new page.
Lily looked towards the ballroom, spotting where her mother was flanked by a group of executives, Nancy hovering by her side as the faithful advisor. Roman had somehow found himself stuck in the middle of a group of journalists who were eagerly pointing their iPhones in his face. “Oh, god. I gotta go save Roman. Give me a hand, would you?” she pleaded, hand outstretched towards Shiv as she tried to push herself up from the chair.
Roman caught sight of her as she slowly walked across the room towards him. There was something unnerving about seeing Lily like this. Her hair was shorter now, almost always tucked back into a French twist to keep it out of her face. Gerri’s signature hairstyle. She looked more like her mother than he thought possible. It was an echo of a life Roman could never experience.
It wasn’t that he wanted kids. Fuck no. Absolutely not.
But Roman Roy had never been denied anything in his life - whether or not he wanted it.
And it was a nice idea. A fanciful, impossible one. But a nice idea all the same.
“If you would excuse me,” he said, acknowledging the journalists with a nod as he walked towards Gerri’s eldest daughter. “Thanks for the rescue,” Roman greeted her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned them back towards the table. “I could tell you needed it,” Lily smiled, grateful of the slower pace he was taking with her. “Let’s get you back to your seat,” Roman insisted, stepping forward as he glared at their fellow guests until they parted like the Red Sea.
“You’re still good to take Selina right when D-day finally hits?” she asked, although they had already gone over the plans a dozen times before. Lily was convinced her mother had scheduled it all out like one of her General Counsel briefs. “Yeah, Emily has cleared my diary. As soon as the baby drops, I’m off any productions for a week and Ger will be around the whole time,” he reminded her. Gerri planned to unofficially cash in the maternity leave she had failed to take with either of her daughters for an ‘extended vacation’ once the baby was born.
“Roman, I’d like my child back in one piece when I get out of the hospital,” Lily said in a pointed tone that made her sound a little too much like her mother. It wasn’t unusual for Roman and Gerri to have Selina for the weekend, but it would be different this time.
“She’s more likely to break me than the other way around,” Roman joked with a smirk. After all, Selina had been the reason why he had broken his arm in the summer chasing her around the pool. It had been rather an unforgettable first weekend at the Hamptons house.
Lily held onto his arm as she lowered herself back down onto her seat, signalling for him to take the seat next to her. “And…you’ll keep an eye on Mom, won’t you?” she asked cautiously, not afraid to admit she was concerned about her mother as her eldest daughter. “Ger will be fine, Lils. Don’t worry,” Roman tried to wave off her concern as he sat down next to her.
“I just…I’m aware of the fact this is going to bring up memories and not all of them might be easy ones,” Lily confessed, having had more than one heart-to-heart with her mother during her pregnancy about their troubled years and some of the regrets the older woman had. “I get it, Lils,” he said as he cleared his throat. Roman could still see the silent tears that rolled down Gerri’s face the day she had found out about Selina. She had cried more times than she would probably admit over it, but those were becoming less frequent now.
Another voice sounded from the other side of the table. “Roman,” Alice called as she walked towards them. “Alice!” he acknowledged as he got up to greet Gerri’s former first assistant with a hug. “Karolina asked me to check if you wanted to make a few remarks on behalf of the family,” she explained, stopping to say hello to Lily.
Alice had gotten her long overdue promotion to become Karolina’s number two as the Deputy Executive for Press Relations.
“Can I?” Roman asked, having not planned on doing anything other than eating, drinking, and dancing with Gerri. “If you’d like,” Alice agreed with a knowing smile. “I don’t have anything prepared,” he reminded her, unsure how he was meant to give a speech in a few minutes without anything in his back pocket to use.
Out of Alice’s clutch bag appeared five little pink note cards, Gerri’s distinctive cursive handwriting written across the thin lines. “Are you still conspiring with your former boss?” Roman asked, taking the note cards as he started to scan over their contents. “I wouldn’t say ‘conspiring’ exactly,” Alice shrugged as she waved her hand at Roman for him to follow her towards the stage to get ready to give his impromptu remarks.
Roman had enough time to memorise a few lines from the little note cards before he was introduced on stage. It was a less eventful speech than the one he had given the year before, but it focused on the family’s commitment to continuing the RECNY fund for the years going forward. He scanned the crowd for Gerri, but only her empty seat next to his at their table. It took him a minute to realise she was standing off to the side of the stage watching him.
“Did I do okay?” Roman asked as the crowd clapped him off the stage before the charity auction started. Gerri didn’t have to tell the nice lie that time. “You did better than okay,” she smiled, stepping forward to kiss Roman’s cheek, smirking as she caught sight of the lipstick mark she’s left behind. Guerlain Rouge G No. 214. Her signature shade.
He only had one question left to ask.
“Gerri?” Roman asked as they walked down the steps off the stage. “Yeah?’ she paused, the auction getting underway as the guests started to bid on lots. “Can we go home?” he pleaded, having reached his limit of corporate niceness for the day. “Freddie’s already waiting outside,” Gerri smiled, having texted him mid-way through Roman’s speech. Elise and Lily had already slipped out the back entrance and there was no need for them to stay around for the rest of the event.
Another question rolled around his head as they headed back home that night.
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Elise!”
“ELISE!”
Roman looked up from his laptop as he heard Emily and Nick’s voices coming down the hallways towards them. “What the fuck?” he asked, looking across the table at Elise who was finalising circulation plans for the production. The door behind them opened as Emily practically fell through it, holding her phone in her hand.
“You gotta go,” she announced as Nick suddenly appeared beside her with Elise’s black trench coat in hand. “We’re in a meeting, Em,” Elise pointed out, the sleep deprivation making her tone a little more irritated as she turned to look at the younger woman before the penny dropped. “Hold on,” she paused as her eyes bulged in her head.
“What? Shit, fuck, is this it?” Roman asked, his hands clamping up as he stood from the conference table. “Must be,” Elise gulped, hands shaking as she tried to pick up her phone from the table, finally seeing the stack of messages from Lily and Maddie that her ‘do not disturb’ mode had muted.
“Fredrick is downstairs waiting on you, he’s going to take you straight there,” Emily explained as she finished gathering up Elise’s paperwork and laptop, unceremoniously dumping them into the woman’s tote bag. “I’ve already got your assistant to clear your calendar,” Nick added as he held open the door for them.
“Ger has Selina, Freddie dropped her over on the way here,” Roman announced as he looked up from his phone screen, finally checking the twenty-four text messages she had sent him. “Who’s with Lily now?” Elise questioned as Roman walked her towards the elevator, Emily and Nick trailing behind them. “Maddie is,” he answered, holding the elevator door open for her as he read through the text message chain from Gerri. She had started sending him updates after realising his phone was on silent, knowing he’d eventually pick them up.
“Everything’s gonna be fine, Ellie,” Roman promised, reaching out to squeeze the woman’s arm as she stepped past him and into the elevator.
Though he wasn’t sure which one of them was the most nervous and that included the two junior executives next to him.
The baby had served its eviction notice by the time Fredrick returned back to their office, having stopped to pick up Gerri and Selina on route. “Kid’s definitely a Kellman,” Roman announced as he opened the car door, having long concluded that being exceptionally punctual was a genetic trait amongst Gerri’s family. “Hi, Roman,” Gerri greeted, sliding into the middle of the back seat, freeing the space next to her for him to sit.
“Well, what is it? Do we have a Roman Junior - or a Romey?” He asked, stepping up into the SUV as Fredrick took his duffle bag to the boot. “A boy. Elise made it with all of five minutes to spare,” Gerri reported before she put her hand on his chin to give him a kiss, though mindful of their company.
“Spud doesn’t look impressed,” Roman observed, leaning forward to look at Selina, who was buckled into her booster seat next to Gerri, as the car started towards the hospital. “It’s a boy. I don’t like boys,” Selina complained, folding her arms in front of her chest as she shook her head. “Boys are yucky,” Roman agreed with her, wincing as Gerri nipped him on his arm for being unhelpful.
“Boys are good for some things,” Gerri tried to intervene, mindful that she didn’t want her eldest grandchild to develop some sort of complex over the whole thing. “Like what?” Selina questioned with a long whine.
“Let me get Emily to make you a list,” Roman suggested, deciding this was a task better suited to one of the Fantastic Four. “Do you like your brothers, Romey?” Selina asked, leaning forward so she could see the man sitting on the other side of Gerri. “Sometimes,” he replied truthfully, though these days he liked them more than he had when they were going up.
Selina bit down on the side of her lip as she looked at Roman with as serious of a face as a child her age could muster. “I’m still going to be your favourite though, right?” she asked quietly and Gerri suspected that was the real reason for her reaction to the news. “You’re my second favourite person, spud,” Roman assured her, reaching across Gerri to tap her cheek.
“After GG?” Selina asked.
“After GG,” Roman repeated.
“And Vespie,” the girl added quickly, smiling at the mention of the little dog. “Uhm, I think you and Vespie are equal, kiddo,” he joked, knowing that was the only answer that was going to satisfy the girl.
“Selina, you’re going to be staying with us for a few days,” Gerri announced, deciding it was better to tell the girl before they saw Lily. “Can we go to the big house?” Selina asked as the car pulled into the front of the hospital. “The Hamptons house?” she questioned, just to be sure.
“Yes, please,” Selina nodded as the car came to a stop. “I’m sure we can have that arranged,” Gerri agreed as Roman got out of the car and walked around to help get Selna out.
“Hold on, we gotta go buy a tacky balloon or some shit,” he announced, his mind already made up. This was his one chance to be like one of those guys in the comedy movies who always landed in the hospital room with a funny balloon. “From the hospital gift shop?” Gerri questioned with a raised eyebrow as she opened the boot of the car. “Isn’t that what normal people do?” Roman shrugged, standing on the sidewalk with Selina. “I guess,” she agreed, although she had never seen the inside of a hospital gift shop before.
“Look, I’ll go and get them. You can call Frank or…I don’t know, send out a press release with “ we are a grandmother - again” or some bullshit like that,” Roman insisted, waving her off to wait for them before taking Selina by the hand and making a beeline for the small gift shop to the right of the lobby. It only took exactly three minutes to raid the store of every ‘baby boy’ and blue balloon Roman could carry - not counting the pink one Selina had insisted on getting for herself.
Gerri came off the phone just as the pair re-emerged into the lobby, carrying two gift bags tied with white ribbon. “Did you buy enough balloons?” she asked, looking at him slightly dumbfounded by the fistful of balloons he was carrying. “For now, I think,” he joked, following Gerri through the hallway towards the private ward, following the directions Madeline had sent them.
“Over here!”
Maddie had positioned herself near the vending machines, putting her at the perfect vantage spot to see them when they turned the corner onto the ward. “Hey, Maddie,” Gerri greeted, stepping forward to kiss her youngest daughter on the cheek. “Is that what I think it is?” Maddie smirked as she nodded at the white gift bags that her mother was carrying. “If you think that’s a martini glass, you would be correct, yes,” she acknowledged with a smile. The one thing Lily wanted post-delivery was a martini and it was her motherly duty to make it happen.
“Congratulations, you’re a big sister now. Hopefully you won’t be as annoying as my big sister,” Madeline smirked, ruffling her niece’s curls as she walked past the girl. “Everything went okay?” Gerri asked, walking in step with Maddie as they headed down the hallway towards Lily’s room.
“It’s Lily, did you expect anything else?” Madeline joked, having gotten used to her sister being the overarching eldest daughter. “Fair point,” Gerri agreed, though that didn’t shake off any of the anxiety she felt at that moment. She would feel better once she saw Lily for herself.
“She basically sneezed and pushed the kid out. She’s fine, Mom,” Maddie assured her, though she wasn’t sure she had ever seen her mother look that concerned about her or her sister before. Another reminder of how different things were now. “Gerri’s just angsty,” Roman piped up from behind them.
“I’ll just feel better when I see her,” she said, having chipped off what was left of her nail polish during the car ride over. “She’s in room 14, just down the hall,” Maddie announced as she stopped by the end of the hallway, pointing to the room at the far end.
“Rome,” Madeline called after him, reaching out to grab the man’s arm before he could get away. “Give her a minute,” she suggested, holding him back from going after her mother. “Is this one of those things I’m not going to understand?” he asked, stepping off to the side as Maddie reached down to pick up her niece. “Pretty much,” she agreed, deciding it wasn’t her place to explain it all to him.
Gerri realised where they were going as soon as they turned left. Lily was - as fate would have it - in the same room where she had delivered both her daughters.. The corner suite, away from prying eyes and with a view out over the water. Baird had insisted on it, pulled enough strings to have it on standby. But this time it was a different blonde in the sterile white bed, a bundle tucked in her arms as her partner pushed back the sweat-soaked hair from her forehead.
“How’s my baby?” Gerri greeted, setting the two gift bags down on the table as she made a beeline for her daughter. “He can scream, let me tell you that,” Lily joked, leaning back against the pillow as her mother walked up to the hospital bed.
“I didn’t mean him,” Gerri corrected as she reached out to take Lily’s hand, leaning over the side of the bed, still focusing on her daughter and not the newborn for now.
It was the first time Gerri realised that Lily’s hands were bigger than hers. No longer the little dainty hand that held onto her pinky when it was her and Lily in that bed.
“Well, he came too quickly for me to get an epidural. So I feel a little loopy right now they’ve finally given me some meds,” Lily giggled, sounding exactly like someone who had been given free use of the gas and air.
“Worth it though?” Gerri asked, pushing back Lily’s fringe as she finally turned her attention to the baby wrapped up in white blanket with little gold stars. “Oh, absolutely ,” she agreed, following her mother’s line of sight to the sleeping baby in her arms.
“He looks a little like Dad,” Lily announced, her voice cracking as she forced a smile. Gerri didn’t want to be the one to tell her that all babies looked a little like old men.
But Lily was right. There was a touch of Baird there around the eyes.
“Is Selina okay?” Lily asked, blinking back her tears as she looked up at her mother. “Not particularly fond of the idea of a boy, but I think she’s warming up to it,” Gerri acknowledged, sitting herself down onto the side of the bed next to Lily. “The baby got her a gift,” Elise announced, nodding her head towards the neatly wrapped box that looked suspiciously like an American Girl doll.
For all her complaints about having a brother, Selina would take to the role of big sister as easily as her mother once had.
“Mom, will you take the baby so I can see Selina when she comes in?” Lily asked, conscious of the fact the girl now found herself in the unfamiliar territory of having a sibling and now longer having the undivided attention of both her mothers.
“I don’t know if I remember how to hold a baby,” Gerri confessed in a meek voice that didn’t sound like her own. “It’s like riding a bike, you don’t forget,” Elise assured her from the other side of the hospital bed as Lily moved forward to slowly transfer the baby from her arms to Gerri’s.
It turned out there were some things about motherhood she hadn’t forgotten.
“Hey, little man,” Gerri greeted, captivated by the baby the second he was put in his arms. The more she stared at his face the more she found herself trying to pick out Baird’s features in it. She knew it was silly, after all, babies’ faces changed so quickly. But if nothing else, she was confident the baby in her arms was one of the three nicest she had ever seen.
“I told you it was easy,” Elise smirked as Gerri walked towards the window with the baby, clearing some space around Lily’s hospital for the others. Lily looked over at her wife when Gerri didn’t respond. For all of Gerri’s anxiety, she now felt perfectly tranquil.
The hospital room door opened once again as a set of little Mary Janes echoed across the floor.
“Mama!” Selina announced, launching herself towards the bed. “Be careful of Mama,” Elise tried to warn, but Lily swatted her wife’s hand away, ignoring the pain as Selina sprawled on top of her for the first time in months. Roman followed Selina into the room, though it took him a second to manoeuvre his way through the door.
“You realise I had one baby, not an entire elementary class of them?” Lily asked with an amused smirk as she took in the sight of the balloons Roman was trying to drag into the room after him. “You can never have enough balloons,” he joked, dropping the bouquet of balloons down by the table that seemed to have become the designated spot for gifts.
“Oh,” he said, stopping as he realised Gerri was off to the side of the room, the newest addition bundled up in her arms.
But Gerri didn’t even look at him.
Roman knew then he had lost the ranking of being the number one man in her life.
“So that’s the main man?” he asked as he walked up to her as Elise and Lily gave Selina her gift from the baby. It wasn’t that Roman had never expected to see Gerri holding a baby. He had been preparing himself for the last nine months to seeing this play out before him. But the reality of it was something sweeter, almost tragically so, than what he had imagined.
“Something like that,” Gerri replied, her index finger running down the slope of the baby’s nose and back up again as she kept her eyes fixed on his sleeping face. “You good?” he questioned, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms, though she still hadn’t looked at him. “I don’t remember the girls being this small,” Gerri admitted in a small voice that makes it sound as if there was a lump forming at the back of her throat.
He had another question to ask her.
“Gerri?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you happy?”
Gerri didn’t say anything, her index finger moving to stroke the baby’s hand, checking each of his fingers in turn. She didn’t need to give him an answer to that question.
“Kid got a name?” Roman asked, trying to move the subject back to safer territory than Gerri’s parenting skills as he looked over at the other two women. “Leo,” Elise announced from where she was perched on the end of the hospital bed.
Leo after the constellation with the brightest stars. Trust Lily Kellman to commit to a theme.
“You’ve got a star and a moon, just need a sun now,” he joked as he moved away from Gerri to sit himself down on one of the visitors' seats at the foot of the bed. “I’m too drugged up right now to even think about that,” Lily whined, a floppy hand over her face as she takes a deep breath. She looked the same way Gerri did after three martinis on an empty stomach.
“I say give her a week,” Elise teased with a smirk as she sat down on the edge of the bed, opening her arms for her eldest child.
“Do you want to hold him?” Gerri offered, suddenly appearing by his side with Leo still in her arms. Roman shook his head. “Maybe later,” he shrugged. Had he ever actually held a baby before? He hadn’t been around much when Sophie and Iverson were babies and he definitely hadn’t seen them when they were that small. What if he dropped it? Roman wasn’t the sort of person who was meant to be going around holding babies as tiny as that one.
He waited until Elise and Gerri had taken Selina to the side before he ventured over to Lily’s bedside. “Are you still good to take Selina?” Lily offered, adjusting Leo in her arms after getting him back from her mother. “She said she wants to go to the Hamptons house. Are you okay with that?” Roman asked, looking at the baby as he wondered whether they all looked a little bit like aliens at that age. “Anything that keeps her entertained. You know she loves that place,” Lily agreed, having no concerns about handing her eldest daughter off to them for a few days.
“You better call your Uncle Frank, I gave him the basics but I think he’d feel better hearing it from you,” Gerri announced from where she was standing by the table, showing Elise the things she had brought into the hospital for Lily’s first martini in a year. “Only if one of you calls Uncle Karl, I’m not dealing with him crying down the phone like a baby,” Lily compromised, having dealt with an unexpectedly tearful Karl the first time he had seen her after Gerri gave him the news.
“Give your baby brother a kiss goodnight,” Elise insisted, looking over Lily’s head at the little girl who leaned forward to drop a kiss on her baby brother’s forehead. “Bye bye, Leo,” Selina whispered, giggling to herself before scrabbling down off the bed and heading back towards Roman as he stood waiting on her by the door.
“We’ll give you a minute,” Roman told Gerri, picking up the American Girl box that Selina had opened earlier and leading the girl back out into the hallway. “Dinner?” he asked Selina as they got back to the bottom of the hallway, though Maddie seemed to have disappeared off somewhere again. Probably in search of a caffeine fix. While Gerri’s blood was rich in gin, Madeline’s required a near constant supply of caffeine. “I want sushi,” Selina decided matter-of-factly.
And, as was often the case, what Selina wanted, she got.
“Do you like your brother?” Roman asked a few minutes later as they stood waiting on Gerri to say her goodbyes. “Maybe, he’s okay,” she shrugged, holding her new American Girl doll a little tighter to her chest. “Just maybe?” he teased, dropping down to her height as he knelt beside her. “I don’t know, boys are funny,” Selina announced with a dramatic sigh, as if she had just been debating the finer points of one of her GG’s law journals.
“What are we doing for dinner?” Gerri called as she walked up the hallway towards them, a definitive skip in her step. “Lady Muck wants sushi,” Roman announced, nodding to the child next to him. “Sushi it is then,” she agreed, stopping to peck on the lips before taking Selina by the hand.
Gerri was, perhaps for the first time in her life, practically floating.
After a pitstop to collect Vesper from the apartment, Fredrick drove the trio from the city and out to the Hamptons towards the weekend house Gerri had bought six months earlier. While they split their time between New York and the Hamptons, this new house felt far more like home than the apartment ever could have. Perhaps because it was theirs. Something they had made together.
The evening went by just like any other. Sushi followed by ice cream and one of what Selina called “GG’s funny movies ”. The credits had started rolling on ‘ Casablanca’ when Gerri excused herself to go and clean the kitchen. That was another difference between the house and apartment. Unlike in New York, Gerri preferred to do as much of her own cleaning here as possible. A new-found sense of domestic tranquillity - or something like that.
“Can Vespie sleep in my room?” Selina asked, nodding down at the puppy who was curled up in the space between her and Roman on the sofa. “You’ve gotta ask GG,” he reminded her, though he doubted there was any way Gerri was going to deny the girl anything that weekend.
“GG!” Selina called, jumping off the sofa before she turned back to pick up Vesper, holding the dog in her arms the way Roman had taught her as she headed towards the kitchen. Roman shook his head as he watched Selina walk out of the room in search of Gerri.
It didn’t surprise him when Gerri shouted back to him that she was putting “Selina and Vesper to bed”. What did surprise him was the fact she didn’t come back into the lounge. Regardless of whether it was just them or if the girls were there, they always ended their evening in the lounge.
Sometimes all they did was talk. They did a lot of talking these days. Sometimes about the past, but almost always about the future. Places they wanted to visit, food Roman wanted to learn how to cook, and things Gerri had planned for them. Though the ‘R’ word hadn’t come up in any of these conversations. Not that Gerri would ever retire. She had floated the idea of moving to consulting sometime in the future or transitioning to become the Studio’s General Counsel once their operations had expanded.
Roman had expected that evening to end with another one of those conversations about the future, but Gerri was nowhere to be seen. Though it wasn’t hard to work out where she was.
‘I thought I’d find you out here,” he announced as he stepped out onto the patio, closing the sliding doors behind him, careful not to spill the drink he had stopped to make on his way to the garden. “I just wanted to take a second after putting Selina down,” Gerri explained, having wrapped herself up in one of her oversized cashmere cardigans.
“A martini, Milady?” he offered, holding out the drink towards her as she grinned at him. “I have you very well trained, Mr. Roy,” she observed, giving him a kiss in exchange for the glass in his hand.
Roman was more than house trained now. He even, occasionally, attempted to cook without setting off the fire alarm. Though it was usually Gerri, or sometimes Elise, who did the cooking when they were here. They still lived on restaurant takeout and overpriced coffees in New York.
“I thought tonight called for one,” he observed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “They call it wetting the baby’s head in the motherland,” Roman explained, thinking of the time he had been in England when his cousin was born and his uncles had taken him to the pub at the grand old age of thirteen and asked what beer he wanted. “Trust the Brits to find an excuse to drink,” Gerri chuckled, taking a sip of her martini as she leaned back against the patio table where she had been standing when he arrived.
“I’m sure the kid’s blood oxygen is like 15% martini,” he countered, suspecting it was something every Kellman inherited. “At least Lily didn’t drink when she was pregnant,” Gerri said in a pointed tone as she looked down into her martini glass. Just another thing she hadn’t done ‘right’ when it was her in Lily’s shoes. The last twelve months had shown just how many things she hadn’t done ‘right’ the first time.
Roman rubbed the back of his neck as he took the hint to change the subject. “Vesper okay?” he asked, moving to stand next to her by the patio table. “Curled up in Selina’s bed under a mountain of blankets. I don’t think we’ll be hearing from either of them until breakfast,” Gerri smiled with an amused chuckle. In Selina’s mind, the puppy was her personal toy and four-legged best friend. They were practically inseparable when she was here or at the apartment.
“Why are you hiding out here?” Roman asked, though it wasn’t unusual to find her in the backyard. After years of being stuck in a corner office, Gerri seemed to use any excuse to get outside when they were here, whether it was swimming laps in the pool or reading in the garden.
“Just looking at the stars,” she shrugged with a pulled smile and for a second Roman thought her eyes looked glassy, as if she was trying not to cry. Though he knew they were happy tears. She had another star to look out for now and things couldn't have been more different from what they were only a year ago.
What had sold Roman on the house was the view. It was rare to get such an unobstructed view of the sky, as if there was another house around for miles. He had made a point of buying her a telescope - one of those sleek black ones to set in her home office - to stargaze with Selina.
This was their home. Not the penthouse high above the New York skyline. That had been Gerri’s - even if it had come to become his as well. Roman Roy had lived in twenty-five houses in his life but only one had ever felt like this.
Now was the right time. He turned to look at the night sky, picked the brightest star he could find, and made his wish.
Roman had one last question to ask.
“Gerri.”
“Yeah?”
Two words. That’s all it took to change their lives. Two words. Seven letters.
“Marry me?”
References:
Gerri’s RECNY ball dress is this silk green Carolina Herrera look.
If you don’t know what “ the jackal ” is, may I please suggest you get your shit together and watch West Wing?
The reference to Lily wearing ‘ stars in her hair’ is a nod to Empress Sisi’s stars . I like to imagine Elise would buy her similar custom ones for each of their children.
Notes:
.....listen, I KNOW this is a cruel way to end it but here we are. I've debated doing a Japan prequel, based primarily on the early chapter in this fic where they went for dinner and talked about Japan. That might still happen, but for now, I'm just going to be writing Invisible String - which, truthfully, only happened because I (and I know a lot of you as well) enjoyed the Selina element of this fic. I might eventually start a one-shot series of events in this universe as I sort of have things mapped out in my head, though a lot of them were hinted at in this epilogue.
So, this isn't goodbye to the TLWT, just a 'see you later'.
Pages Navigation
snakelinguine on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 10:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 10:32PM UTC
Comment Actions
horus the tortoise (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 10:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 10:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
Regency on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 12:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Phoebe55 on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 12:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Jennimals on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 01:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
Jecaba on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 02:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
mila (Guest) on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 02:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
Madeleine2302 on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 03:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
bri_notthecheese on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 04:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
bri_notthecheese on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 09:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 09:18PM UTC
Comment Actions
Guestt (Guest) on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 06:13AM UTC
Comment Actions
dignifiedrubbish on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 06:46AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 07:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
Chrisleduc on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 07:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 07:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
floweringrebel on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 09:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 10:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pastoush on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 02:03PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 02:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
MerakiAndArt on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 06:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 06:33PM UTC
Comment Actions
MerakiAndArt on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 06:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 06:11PM UTC
Comment Actions
Robin (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 10:04AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 10:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
hellostarboy on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 05:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 05:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
blondesandblueskies on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 07:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 07:22PM UTC
Comment Actions
moonlover_moon on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 09:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Aug 2023 09:48PM UTC
Comment Actions
ger_bear on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Aug 2023 05:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
cleosmuses on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Aug 2023 06:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation