10. Mary
Chapter 10
Mar y
“No, we did—” I meet his steady gaze again, and it all clicks into place. Wait. Connor. Brandon and Sebastian’s Connor?
The familiarity I’ve felt, this magnetic pull between us… it’s because he’s…
My fork rattles against the plate.
I kissed my crush from college, and I didn’t know it.
“What’s wrong?” Connor asks.
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. I’m sorry.”
Connor shrugs, but I can tell he’s pleased I finally made the connection. “Well, it has been a while. I’m surprised you remember me at all. I was never one to stand out.”
He’s completely different. Back then, he wore hoodies, brooding in the corner of the coffee shop, rarely saying a word, and definitely not wearing a suit or having this body. Or maybe I couldn’t see it beneath the baggy clothes. I never would have pictured this stoic, confident man across from me as the aloof boy who used to blend into the background, and was the reason I went to the coffee shop daily.
“You were hard to miss.” The words slip out before I can catch them.
“Oh, really?” His voice drops lower. “Why’s that?”
“I mean, you seemed really… focused. Like you always had somewhere important to be. And you seemed to keep your distance as if you…” Hated me. “To everyone. Rarely spoke to anyone but Brandon or Sebastian.”
Now, he commands easily any room he enters and turns too many heads, specifically Sophie’s.
“I was focused. You’re right.”
“So how did you go from being the strong, silent type to...” I gesture at him with my fork. “This?”
“This?”
“You know, Mr. Annoying Confidence over here.”
Connor’s lips quirk. “People change. Plus, working with Elijah these past years hasn’t exactly encouraged modesty. What else do you remember about me from back then?”
Everything? Like that, you only drank water, although you were at a coffee shop and were always sitting in the darkest corner with your eyes trained on the screen. I wondered what it would be like to have these eyes on me…
“Not much except seeing you brooding in the back of the coffee shop all the time. You had this aura,” I say .
“An aura, huh?” Connor leans back in his chair, studying me intently. “What else?”
I hesitate, weighing my options. Do I tell him the truth? That I used to watch him from across the coffee shop, wondering what he was thinking about. That I had the biggest crush on him, even though we never spoke a word to each other?
“Not much.” I shrug my shoulders. “Like I said, you kept to yourself mostly. Didn’t really seem interested in making friends, that aura.”
“I was waiting for the right person to come along, and I think I found her.” His voice is low and suggestive, and my heart skips a beat.
Ugh. Why does he have to be so damn charming? And why do I have to be so damn susceptible to it?
I twirl more pasta around my fork as I consider my next words carefully. “I guess I never imagined you’d end up working for my father’s company.” Or that I would kiss you and have a sex dream about you. Again.
I hover over the mark on my neck with my fingertips.
One dream that felt real.
“You okay?”
I drop my hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just lost in thought for a moment.”
Connor’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t press further. “So, what else do you want to know about me? I’m an open book.”
I snort. “Yeah, right. You’re about as open as a locked safe. ”
“Try me.”
“Okay, fine. What made you decide to go into cybersecurity?”
Connor takes a sip of his water before answering. “I’ve always been interested in technology and how it can be used to protect people. Plus, I’m good at it.”
“Modest, too.”
He grins. “Just being honest. What about you? What made you decide to work for your father’s company?”
I shrug. “It seemed like the natural choice. I’ve always been playing around here with my sister.”
“But is it what you really want to do?”
His question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, is working for your father’s company your dream job? Or is it just something you fell into because it was expected of you?”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. The truth is, I’ve never really thought about it before. Working for my father’s company has always been my plan ever since I was a kid. But is it what I want to do with my life?
“No, I like it.”
Connor nods as if he expected my answer. “Really?”
“What should I do instead? Become a professional hacker like you?” I meant it as a joke, but Connor’s expression turns serious .
“If that’s what you want to do, then yes. You should pursue what makes you happy. Life’s too short to spend it doing something you don’t love.”
He’s right. And that’s what I’m doing. It’s sometimes stressful, yes, or a broody, arrogant hacker appears, but I love what I do. Even if I may never be enough for my father to let me take over or my mother to stop trying to marry me off.
“This really is delicious, by the way,” he says.
“Yeah, it is, right?” I smile. “It’s so funny that after all these years, some things don’t change.”
“You’re right. The familiar things ground us.” He pauses, glancing down at his plate and back up, his expression now serious. “But change can be good, too. It opens up new possibilities.”
“Possibilities, sure. As long as they’re the right ones.”
Connor leans forward, bracing his arms on the table. “How do you know which are the right ones?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, you have to trust your instincts.”
“And what are your instincts telling you right now?”
“I...”
The waiter appears to clear our plates, and I exhale slowly as Connor sits back, the hint of a smile playing about his lips. He knows exactly the effect he’s having on me. And damn him, but I’m enjoying it too.
Connor retrieves his buzzing phone. “Sorry, I have to get that.”
“Sure. ”
He nods at me, walking towards the exit to take the call. His broad shoulders fill out the suit jacket, making it fit snugly.
No. He’s arrogant, rude, patronizing, withholding my phone, and acting like he knows me so well. He flirts with other women. He keeps me from drinking coffee. His tie is awful and his brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, and the dimples or his soothing timbre voice. Or how he listened with genuine interest to the spaghetti story.
This was the third time I told someone about it. The first was on a date. He said that I should be lucky that I didn’t get food poisoning. The second time was on another date, and he rambled so much about his own amazing cooking skills that we went to his home, where he put his so-called cooking skills to the test. It was horrible. As horrible as the smug, heart-melting smirk on Connor’s face. Let’s not forget that.
Ugh, this is useless.
I glance around, trying to catch the eye of a waiter, but instead, my eyes land on a woman hurrying out of the kitchen, her red designer dress and black hair disheveled. Her cheeks are flushed, and she keeps casting furtive glances around as she scurries towards the bathroom, head bowed.
Holy shit, is that Serena Morgan? The one and only Manhattan socialite, dripping in diamonds and designer everything?
Serena is one of the most poised, put-together human beings I know, or not, because she’s like some kind of goddess. Seeing her so flustered is… like spotting a unicorn. The ice queen has finally met her match. But I thought she was dating Bash .
Anyway, I have my own issues to deal with, starting with a certain infuriating yet infuriatingly attractive security consultant.
Speaking of which, I glance back towards the exit. Where did he go?
“Is everything alright, Miss Wempton?” The waiter appears beside me with a concerned expression.
“Uh, yes. Can I have the check, please?”
“Your boyfriend has already taken care of it.”
“Boyfriend?”
Before the waiter can respond, Connor returns to the table, his eyes scanning our surroundings before settling on me.
“Did you want anything else, Blue? A dessert, perhaps?”
“No, thank you.”
“Have a nice day.” The waiter bows and leaves our table.
“Why did you pay?” I ask.
“Because you still owe me dinner, remember?”
When did I ever agree to that? “Dinner?”
“Don’t look so worried. I’ll let you pick the place tonight.”
“Tonight? No, no, no. Wait. We said lunch. This lunch.” I tip my index finger on the table. “On me.”
“Lesson learned. Don’t let strangers pay for your lunch. And don’t owe anyone anything.”
“I can’t tonight. I have too much work to do.”
Connor studies me for a moment. “Okay, no problem. When do you have time?”
“I could… probably do… Friday night. ”
“Friday? That’s quite a while from now.”
“Hmm… maybe I can’t—”
“Fine, Blue. Friday.” His jaw clenches.
Blue? That’s the 10th time or so. He’s really set on using this name for me.
“The IT team is expecting us, right?” Connor closes his suit jacket, switching into professional mode.
“Yes.” Just like that, I’m left reeling from his whiplash-inducing changes in demeanor.
This can’t be anything more than a working relationship with someone my father hired.