Two
When I shift my gaze from his fingers to his expressionless face, it's like looking at a blank canvas.
"When you're settled, come find me. I have a proposal for you," he states.
I withdraw my hand, ignoring the tingling sensation – something I haven't felt with a man in... well, not since him.
"Okay. Yes. I'll... I'll come find you." As I head toward an open area with cubicles and offices, memories flash before me. The teenage Jason, his infectious laughter revealing a set of perfect teeth, and the sensation of his mouth curving into a smile against my skin. The last memory sends a shiver down my spine that I hope Liza doesn't notice.
"What were you doing with Jason Shane?" she hisses, cornering me near the water cooler.
"He was just helping me after I got lost. I took a wrong turn—"
"You'll be lucky if he doesn't go straight to HR and recommend your dismissal."
I scoff. "He can't do that."
Liza's eyes widen with a warning. "Yes, he can. Jason Shane practically rules this place. Whatever he says, goes."
My heart sinks like a stone into my stomach as Liza launches into a tour of my new workspace and team. Part of me wishes to run far away from Jason, but I need this job, and I took it for a reason. I'll have to push aside the guilt and do whatever it takes to remain employed. Hopefully, Jason has moved on from my abrupt departure and realized that we were just young with crushes, fooling around in the back of cars and going to the movies as an excuse to touch in the dark.
Was that all it was? The voice in my head taunts. I ignore it and decide to tackle one problem at a time, which means focusing on learning every detail of my job as the head of marketing. Even if it means confronting my past, every single day.
Jason‘s POV
As 5:30 p.m. approaches, I realize that I've accomplished very little today. There weren't many items on my schedule, but I was irritated enough to have my assistant cancel two calls that probably should have taken place.
Instead, I spent my day pacing, walking back and forth in my office, pondering why on earth Mel Atkinson was working at my company.
Not yours yet, the voice in my head reminds me. Zach could easily snatch it away from you.
It's exasperating, but it's essential to stay humble and not get ahead of myself. Roy Dupont, the owner and founder of Dupont Analytics, is a man of humility, and he values the same in others. Right now, I need him to see the best in me.
Everything was aligning smoothly until lunch yesterday when Roy suggested we dine at Vernon's Diner. It's not a place I prefer to be seen, but it's one of Roy's favorites, so I agreed.
The diner is filled with blue-collar workers and retirees, permeated by the scent of nicotine, grease, and mediocre coffee. Roy always orders the same thing – a Banker's Hour plate and a hot chocolate with whipped cream. Now in his late sixties, Roy prioritizes his happiness over health, which is why he's considering retiring at the end of the year.
"It's not your competence I'm concerned about, Jason," he said, cheerfully picking at the piled-up breakfast dish. "It's the fact that you don't seem settled. I'm worried that if I pass the company over to you, you'll just sell it within the next five years. And Dupont Analytics... well, I built it from the ground up. I can't allow that to happen."
At first, I was offended, but after replaying our conversation endlessly in my mind all night, I understood why he got the impression that I didn't seem "settled."
In the past few years, I've only engaged in casual and very public dating, with no one sticking around for more than a couple of months. I frequently change my living arrangements, searching for a new townhouse or penthouse apartment as soon as boredom sets in.
To be entirely honest with myself, I haven't felt settled since... Mel. The irony of it is that her sudden appearance at Dupont Analytics has shaken me to the point where I'm craving a strong drink. Melissa, I need to refer to her as Melissa. I must establish boundaries right from the start.
What could she possibly be doing here? Standing, I resume pacing, my footsteps echoing in the mostly empty office. I prefer it this way, minimalistic – dark flooring, floor-to-ceiling windows, steel gray walls, and furniture that complements the city of Boston outside.
She invades my thoughts once more. The shock of seeing her, especially given the circumstances. How many times have I daydreamed about encountering Mel – Melissa – Atkinson again? In none of those daydreams was I practically naked, but it was an unexpected bonus to see the heat in her eyes.
As much as it pains me to face her after the way she broke my heart years ago, Melissa is going to be the key to securing Dupont Analytics.
A slow smile finally creeps across my face.
Roy wants to see responsibility and stability. So be it.
Ten years ago, Roy hired me as an intern, and I diligently climbed the corporate ladder to become the CEO. This company means as much to me as it does to him. But he'll never believe it. I've done an excellent job of concealing my vulnerabilities, and there's nothing about my life that appears vulnerable, carefree, or "settled."
But look at how far you've come.
Memories flash through my mind like fragments of an old film: the day my father passed away when I was a child, the first time I saw Mel in elementary school on the playground, moving from the house on Mulberry Road to the smaller bungalow on Chestnut so Mom could manage better, being elected Most Likely to Succeed, asking Mel to prom and her saying yes, and that first kiss, with my heart pounding.
Mel. Her name runs through my mind like a prayer, and I close my eyes, rooted in place.
"Jason?"
Every muscle in my back stiffens. Slowly, I turn to face her – the only woman I've ever loved and the one I lost.
"Melissa."
She cautiously moves along the office's edge, eyeing me with suspicion. I must have surprised her as much as she surprised me. Good. Catching Mel off guard might work to my advantage given what I'm about to propose.
She owes me. And I'm calling in my favor.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Take a seat."
I can't help but look her over as I perch on the edge of the desk. Her blouse, the way it reveals a glimpse of her throat, stirs sinful ideas within me. What would eighteen-year-old me have done with a woman like this in my hands? Probably stammered and came too soon before even taking off my pants.
Now, all sorts of explicit fantasies flood my mind, filled with lustful ways I could pleasure her. But I push those thoughts away. Would it be satisfying to finally have my way with Mel Atkinson, to make her beg?
Yes.
Nevertheless, I have other desires. These ones I believe will provide more lasting fulfillment, especially since Mel has proven herself to be the kind who doesn't stick around for long.
The reminder sours my mood. I pick up a flyer and extend it to her. "Have you seen this?"
She hesitantly takes it from me, and the delicacy of her wrist nearly overwhelms me, momentarily shattering the carefully cultivated air of indifference I've developed. Her brows furrow.
"The company retreat... yeah. My assistant mentioned it's an annual event."
"Yes. Typically, it's just our executive team and close clients, the high-paying ones, who get invited."
I can discern the irritation in her eyes. Mel has never had much patience for the wealthy. She's always been a bleeding heart. When we were kids, she cared for baby birds and adopted stray cats.
"Alright," she says, her eyes scanning the flyer again. "Do you need me to create some itineraries or...?"
"I want you to come."
The words hang in the air between us. My mind, of course, runs away with me, echoing a memory from years ago. Bracing myself over Mel, my hand between her legs, caressing her moist folds. "I want you to come."
A blush colors her cheeks. Is she recalling that night, too?
"I – you want me to come on the retreat?"
"I want you to join as my fiancée."
Another moment of silence, and then Mel bursts into laughter. It's loud enough for Brett, my assistant, to glance our way from outside the office.
"What on earth are you talking about, Jason?"
Taking the flyer from her grasp, I step closer, our faces just inches apart. The silk of her blouse brushes against the buttons of my shirt. I reach out and trace the smooth fabric, wondering if she's just as soft beneath it.
"You're attending the company retreat, and you're going to pretend to be my fiancée." My words emerge low, deep, and brimming with confidence.
Her eyes search mine, the humor fading quickly as she comprehends my seriousness. She attempts to step back, but I catch her, a hand on her lower back, drawing her closer. My body responds with a subtle twitch.
I know Brett is still curiously observing us, and for my plan to work, a few rumors need to surface. Why not start now?
While she seems uneasy, she doesn't struggle to break free. Instead, she places a hand just below my chest, maintaining a safe distance between us. Beneath my fingertips, I feel her warm skin and the dimples of her lower back.
"I want Dupont Analytics," I explain smoothly. I've been formulating it all day. "Roy is retiring soon, and I want the company. I've been here since the very beginning. I've earned it."
"So, you're using me for a business deal."
"Yes," I admit without hesitation.
Mel glances away and pushes me back, not forcefully, but enough to catch me off guard.
"You're insane."
"You walked into my company, Melissa. I set the rules here."
She scoffs. "I'm pretty sure pretending to be your fake fiancée wasn't in my job description. But thanks for the offer." Her eyes flash with disdain, and her lip curls. "If that's all."
With that, she turns and strides out of the room, leaving Brett to gape in disbelief.
A hundred words, questions, and accusations well up in my chest.