Chapter 26
COLE
“Nope, that’s not her name, Cole. It’s Yasmine Montgomery,” Arianna firmly states from behind me, unaware of the turmoil and excitement shaking me to my core and of my struggle to control them.
Her name is not Yasmine Montgomery.
It’s fucking Mina.
The woman I haven’t stopped thinking about, even when I’m supposed to be trying to build something new with a woman I haven’t met or even know what she looks like.
The truth is, I like the chats. They’re good, fun, and even exciting, but I cannot for the life of me get Mina out of my mind.
And I’d know that face anywhere. And those lips, her hair. Fuck. I committed every detail about her to memory and haven’t stopped thinking about her since that day on the airplane and the night we spent together weeks ago.
She fucking ruined me for anyone else. Try as I might to move on, she’s like a niggle in the back of my mind that won’t go away. A scratch I can’t itch.
Like a vision, she’s here, standing just meters away from me. I’ve imagined what I would say or do if I came face-to-face with her again, but none of the scenarios that played out in my mind were anything like this.
I knew someone from FusionTech named Yasmine Montgomery was attending today. I’ve known her name for weeks because David, the company’s owner, told me that’s who he was assigning to our proposal.
Is Mina Yasmine Montgomery?
No fucking way.
Before I know how I got there, I’m toe to toe with her, mouth gaping wide, not fucking believing that she’s here.
“What are you doing here?” she asks me through clenched teeth.
She’s fucking seething.
Pissed off with me, more like, but if she would just let me explain.
I open my mouth to speak but she’s already stopping me in my tracks.
“Don’t talk to me. I’m working, and I’m waiting to meet someone from the law firm I’ve been assigned to design an app for.” She blinks in bafflement.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Is she the FusionTech app developer?
For once fate is on my side.
Irritation bounces off her like static off silk when she steps around me, her grip around her coffee mug tightening. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’m busy.”
Chuckling to myself, I let her storm off toward the registration desk and follow behind her to see how this pans out. She’s not going to like it when she hears I’m the point of contact at Hart Law she should be speaking to.
Only two steps behind her, I hear her ask Arianna whether the person she’s meant to meet knows she’s arrived. When Arianna points around her frame, right at me, she says, “Mr. Hart is behind you; you were just talking to him.”
She spins on the tips of her toes in her shiny black ankle boots and glares at me. “You?” The deep scowl between her eyes tells me she isn’t happy about any of this. “You work here?”
“I own the firm, actually,” I correct her.
Staggering backward, she whispers, “What? This cannot be happening.”
“I’m Cole Hart.”
“Cole Hart,” she mumbles under her breath as if testing how my full name sounds on her tongue.
“And you’re Yasmine Montgomery?” She used a different name the day we met. And kissed. Fucked. Screwed my fucking brains out until the early hours of the morning is a better way to put it.
Her eyes narrow to slits as if not trusting me at all. I can’t blame her; I didn’t call as I promised, and she probably thinks I’m full of shit. “Yes,” she admits.
“So, who is Mina?” Was that just a cover name?
Her nostrils flare, and for a moment, I don’t think she’s going to give me an answer until she eventually does. “My mom and dad call me Mina, it’s short for Yasmine.”
That’s so obvious to me now.
It’s no wonder I haven’t been able to track her down.
“You ghosted me,” she blurts.
“I didn’t.”
“You did,” she scoffs.
“I’m telling you I didn’t.” Not intentionally.
Arianna interrupts, clearing her throat to get our attention. “Maybe you two should use the side room to talk privately,” she suggests.
I cast a glance Arianna’s way to find her pointing at a room to our left.
“It’s currently empty,” she states, raising a brow, amusement written across her curved lips, her phone already in her hand.
Fuck my life. I know she’s already texting Nathan to share the gossip. Those two are thicker than thieves and I’ll be questioned like a man on the stand for murder.
“Follow me.” I rush to Yasmine and cup my hand around the elbow of the arm she’s holding her coffee in, ushering her in the direction of one of our breakout rooms we’ll be using later.
“Stop touching me.”
“Stop squirming,” I mumble at her, squeezing her elbow gently to try and prevent her from spilling her coffee.
Wrapping my fingers around the door handle, I turn it and push the door open for us to walk through.
As soon as the door shuts behind us, her mug is slammed down on one of the tables, coffee sloshing over the sides onto the table.
She then drops her workbag onto a chair, the same one she had with her on the flight that day, and we are having a face-off, her hands on her hips, telling me everything I need to know: she’s angry.
At me specifically.