Chapter 6 Charlie
Chapter six
Charlie
Monday morning hits differently after a weekend of overthinking and ice cream. I've cycled through every emotion. Embarrassment, anger, disappointment and landed on a forced professional detachment. The Sebastian chapter is officially closed.
I step into the elevator, adjusting my ivory blouse and smoothing my navy pencil skirt. Another cold front swept through overnight and while my outfit looked perfect in my bedroom mirror, right now I wish I'd grabbed that camel blazer hanging on my coat rack.
The elevator doors slide open to Titan's fourteenth floor.
I shiver slightly as I cross the threshold, my pumps clicking against the polished concrete floors.
Our office screams "modern tech firm that still wants to be taken seriously.
" It’s an open concept space with glass-walled conference rooms and just enough plants to seem environmentally conscious.
Before I can put a single thought together about my day, Zoe materializes at my side. My assistant has an uncanny ability to appear out of thin air, usually when I least expect it.
"Have you seen him yet?" she asks, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Seen who?" I furrow my brow. "I literally just walked in."
She rolls her eyes dramatically. "The new guy. The sports marketing consultant." She leans in conspiratorially. "He's hot. Like, illegally hot."
My stomach does that thing where it drops into my ass. New guy. Sports marketing. No. No way.
"I haven't had the pleasure," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "When did he start?"
"This morning. He's with Amelia now." She sighs dreamily. "He used to be a professional snowboarder. Has this whole rugged mountain man vibe but in a Tom Ford suit."
Damnit. No. The universe wouldn't be this cruel. It has to be someone else. Coincidences like this don't happen in real life.
"Fascinating," I murmur, moving toward my office. "Send me the brief for the Apex meeting when you get a chance?"
She nods, mercifully distracted by my request. "Already on it. Coffee refill in an hour?"
"You're a mind reader."
I close my office door, drop my bag on my desk, and take a steadying breath. My office is my sanctuary. Clean lines, organized shelves, a wall of windows overlooking the city. I arranged it deliberately, everything in its place. Control in physical form.
Settling at my desk, I power up my laptop and pull up my calendar.
Back-to-back meetings until two, then prep for tomorrow's client presentation.
No time to dwell on coincidences or supposedly hot new consultants who definitely aren't the same man who I had mind-blowing sex with and who left without a word on Saturday morning.
Ten minutes into reviewing quarterly projections, a knock on my door breaks my concentration. Amelia Oldroyd, VP of Marketing and my direct boss, stands in the doorway. She's the picture of corporate elegance in a burgundy pantsuit, and her silver-streaked bob perfectly styled.
"Charlotte, do you have a minute?"
"Of course." I minimize my spreadsheet and stand.
She steps into my office. "I wanted to introduce you to our new sports marketing consultant. He'll be working closely with your team on the Apex Athletic and Mountain High accounts."
I force a smile—
"Sebastian Montgomery, meet Charlotte Whitaker. Charlotte's one of our best project managers."
And there he is.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Sebastian stands in my office doorway looking like he stepped out of a GQ spread.
The navy suit fits him perfectly, white shirt open at the collar, no tie.
His hair is more styled than the messy locks I remember grabbing and pulling as he made me cum multiple times.
His eyes—those piercing blue eyes—widen slightly when they meet mine.
My brain short-circuits, professional demeanor slipping for just a second before I force it back into place.
"Nice to meet you." My voice comes out steady, which feels like a minor miracle.
Sebastian recovers quickly too, extending his hand. "Likewise, Charlotte. Amelia’s told me great things."
His hand engulfs mine, warm and firm. The contact sends an electric current up my arm, memories flooding back unbidden. Those same hands on my waist, my hips, tangled in my hair, inside me.
I extract my hand as quickly as politeness allows.
"Sebastian comes to us with impressive credentials," Amelia continues, oblivious to the tension crackling between us. "Former professional snowboarder, then five years at Altitude Marketing in Colorado. He'll bring some fresh perspective to our sports accounts."
"Colorado," I repeat stupidly. The pieces click together, his confidence on the dance floor, the way he'd moved with such physical assurance. Of course he was an athlete.
"Born and raised," he confirms, his eyes never leaving mine. Is he searching for something? Gauging my reaction?
"Charlotte will get you up to speed on the Apex campaign," Amelia says. "They're launching a new line of winter sports gear, right up your alley."
"Perfect." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Looking forward to diving in."
Amelia glances at her watch. "I've got a call in five. Charlotte, can you show Sebastian to the empty office next to yours? IT should have his computer set up already."
My old office neighbor moved to Seattle last month. Of course the universe would put Sebastian right next door.
"Of course," I manage.
She nods, satisfied. "Great. I'll see you both at the department meeting at eleven." She strides out, leaving us alone in my suddenly too-small office.
The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words. I cross my arms over my chest, a physical barrier.
"So," he finally says, voice low. "Charlie—"
"Charlotte," I correct him. "It's Charlotte."
Something flashes in his eyes—frustration? Regret? "Charlotte." He begins again. "I want to apologize, I should have—"
"It doesn't matter." I wave a dismissive hand, though it absolutely does matter. "It was one night. These things happen."
"About that—"
"The office next door has a great view," I interrupt, moving toward my door. "I'll show you and then email you the Apex files to review."
He doesn't move, blocking my exit. "Can we talk about this?"
"There's nothing to talk about." I meet his gaze, chin lifted. "We had sex. You left. Now we work together. Professionally."
"It wasn't just—"
"I have a meeting in twenty minutes that I need to prepare for." I step around him, holding the door open. "Your office is this way."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. "Lead the way."
I turn into his office, hyperaware of his presence behind me. Colleagues glance our way. The new hire always generates interest, and Sebastian Montgomery would turn heads regardless.
"This is you," I say, stopping in the middle of his office. It mirrors mine in layout but lacks personality. "Password for the computer should be under the keyboard. IT will have you change it at first login."
He steps past me into the space, his shoulder lightly brushing mine. The contact, even through layers of clothing, sends a shiver down my spine.
"Thank you." He turns to face me. "Charlotte, I really do think we should—"
"I'll email you those files." I take a step back. "Welcome to TMG."
Before he can respond, I retreat to my office, close the door, and lean against it. My heart pounds like I've sprinted up all fourteen flights of stairs to get here.
Sebastian Montgomery is my new colleague.
Sebastian Montgomery is working with me on my biggest accounts.
Sebastian Montgomery's office is right next to mine.
I sink into my chair, staring unseeingly at my computer screen.
The universe has a twisted sense of humor.
One night, one incredible, mind-blowing night that I've spent the weekend trying to forget and now he's here, in my professional space, looking unfairly gorgeous and bringing all those memories rushing back.
I open my email, determined to focus on work. Stay Professional. Detached. Unaffected. That's the only way through this.
But as I type the email to him with the Apex files, my fingers hesitate over the keyboard. How do I address it? ‘Mr. Montgomery’ feels ridiculous. ‘Sebastian’ feels too intimate. ‘Bash’ is inappropriate and absolutely out of the question.
I settle on "Mr. Montgomery" and hit send, then immediately begin preparation for my meeting. If I keep moving, keep working, maybe I can outrun the complicated tangle of emotions threatening to derail my carefully constructed professional persona.
This is fine. Everything is fine. I can handle this.
It was just one night.