Chapter 15
Scarlett
I studied my reflection in the mirror as I applied my lipstick with practiced precision, the bright coral shade a carefully chosen armor. My hand remained steady even as my mind raced through the memories that had crashed back yesterday—names, dates, offshore accounts that didn’t officially exist. The carefully applied color would draw attention to my smile, making people focus on my mouth rather than my eyes, where the truth lived.
The lipstick smelled faintly of vanilla and wax, a comforting scent that anchored me to the present moment. The cool ceramic sink beneath my fingertips provided a counterpoint to the heat of anxiety blooming in my chest.
Drake slipped into the hallway behind me, his reflection joining mine in the mirror. The faint scent of his cedar aftershave reached me before his words did.
“Graham texted earlier,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Said something was off with his car. He thinks someone was inside last night, so I’ll check it with the detector Christian left us.” His lips brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “Give me two minutes with Graham before you come down.”
I nodded almost imperceptibly, maintaining my focus on my makeup as he disappeared down the stairs. Through the open window, I heard Graham’s car pull up—the distinctive purr of his luxury sedan’s engine, followed by the casual conversation between the men about potential new fight dates floating up to me—an excellent cover for Drake’s swift sweep of the vehicle.
The cool morning air carried their voices to me, along with the scent of fresh-cut grass and the neighbor’s blooming jasmine. Such normal, everyday sensations for what was anything but a normal day.
Brody’s warm presence filled the doorway. I didn’t need to turn to know it was him—the air itself seemed to change when he entered a room, charged with his energy.
“Ready, Bella?” His deep voice rumbled from the doorway.
I turned to face him, drinking in the sight of him in his workout gear, already prepared for a morning training session. The fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, and my fingers itched to trace the lines of his muscles. His eyes softened as they traced over my face, and I stepped into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent—clean sweat, mint toothpaste, and something uniquely him that had become as necessary to me as oxygen.
“Be careful today,” he whispered against my hair before claiming my lips in a kiss that tasted of coffee and promises. His hands cupped my face with a gentleness that belied his fighter’s strength, calluses rough against my skin in the most delicious way. For a moment, I allowed myself to melt into him, to be just Scarlett rather than the performance I needed to become.
My heart raced as his thumb traced along my jawline. I wanted to stay in this moment, wrapped in his strength, his warmth seeping into my bones. But reality couldn’t be held at bay forever.
The kiss ended too soon. Reality beckoned from the driveway below in the form of Graham’s waiting car. Brody’s thumb traced my bottom lip, carefully fixing my lipstick, the small intimate gesture nearly bringing tears to my eyes.
“Go show them what you’re made of, Bella,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I felt more than heard.
Drake met me at the front door, his expression carefully neutral though his eyes carried a warning. “Car’s bugged,” he breathed, barely audible as he kissed my cheek. His lips were cool against my skin, still warm from Brody’s touch. “We’re only a phone call away.” His lips brushed my ear as he pulled back, maintaining the appearance of a casual goodbye.
I squeezed his hand, feeling the strength in his fingers, drawing courage from his touch before stepping out into the morning sun, the brightness momentarily blinding me.
“Good morning, Mr. Clarke,” I chirped as I slid into the passenger seat, pitching my voice just right for the surveillance devices I now knew existed. The leather seat was cool beneath my thighs, the car’s interior smelling of expensive cologne and leather conditioner. “Thank you again for the ride.”
Graham’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel, an acknowledgment of Drake’s warning. I noticed how the sunlight caught the gold of his watch, how his knuckles whitened briefly before relaxing.
“Of course, Ms. Swanson,” he replied, voice smooth as silk. “I trust you’re feeling better after yesterday’s… adjustment period?”
The double meaning hung between us. To anyone listening, it would sound like a boss checking on an employee’s transition back to higher responsibilities. But his eyes met mine briefly, carrying a different question entirely. The intensity in his gaze made my stomach flutter, despite the danger surrounding us.
“Much better,” I replied brightly, smoothing my skirt, feeling the fabric slide beneath my fingertips. “Though I must admit, being back in A-List was a bit overwhelming. So many familiar faces, yet not. I have no idea what I am doing, and it leaves me with a feeling of uncertainty.” My smile remained fixed as memories flickered through my mind. The same faces around a conference table three years ago, discussing campaign contributions for some of the department’s clients that somehow always preceded tragic accidents.
My palms grew damp as the familiar office building loomed ahead, its glass exterior reflecting the morning sun like a warning. My pulse quickened, though nothing showed on my carefully composed face. Somewhere in that building, powerful people were waiting to see if yesterday’s meeting had triggered any inconvenient memories.
I caught my reflection in the window—coral lips curved in a practiced smile, eyes clear and unburdened. I had to give them exactly what they expected—a woman slightly overwhelmed by her return to responsibility, but eager to prove herself. Someone who remembered nothing of offshore accounts or convenient accidents. Someone harmless.
The car glided to a stop, the engine’s purr fading to silence. The moment stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words.
“Ready?” Graham asked as we pulled into his reserved parking space, his tone carrying layers of meaning.
I checked my lipstick in the visor mirror, my favorite color staring back. The ghost of Brody’s kiss lingered on my lips, strengthening my resolve. I could almost feel his thumb tracing my bottom lip, hear Drake’s warning whispered against my ear.
“Always,” I replied with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. Time to give the performance of my life.
Because if I slipped—if anyone suspected I remembered—it wouldn’t just be my life on the line this time.
The A-List conference room felt both familiar and foreign as I settled into my seat again today, carefully arranging my Sports Division materials in front of me. The morning light streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the mahogany table where I’d once discovered those damning documents. Now I had to prove I remembered nothing of them.
The chair beneath me was too soft, making me feel like I was sinking. The air conditioning whispered overhead, raising goosebumps on my arms. Coffee scented the air, mingling with at least three different expensive colognes and perfumes.
“As you can see,” I began enthusiastically, pulling up my latest campaign metrics for Brody’s upcoming fight, “we can apply these same engagement strategies to the political campaigns. The key is treating each candidate like an athlete building their brand—”
I caught the barely concealed winces around the table, the subtle exchanges of glances. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my expression earnest, even eager. Collected. The A-List director’s lips pressed into a thin line as I continued, my voice bright with manufactured enthusiasm as I detailed social media strategies that would be disastrous for their high-stakes political clients.
The CEO’s cologne—sandalwood and something sharper, more chemical—filled my nostrils as he leaned forward. The scent reminded me of hospital corridors, making my stomach clench.
“Perhaps,” he interrupted smoothly, “we should focus on your current projects for now. Until you… readjust.”
I deflated slightly, letting disappointment color my features while relief surged through me. My shoulders hunched forward, my voice growing smaller. “Of course, I just thought… I mean, I’ve had such success with these ideas in the Sports Division… I thought” The demeanor of the mousy girl with the awful wig slipping into place as I began to shuffle my papers, making them rustle too loudly in the silent room.
“Which is precisely where your talents are best utilized,” Matthews said, his benevolent smile not quite reaching his eyes. The fluorescent lights overhead caught the silver in his hair, giving him a halo effect that couldn’t have been more ironic. “Let’s not overtax you too quickly.”
I gathered my materials, making sure to drop a few papers and fumble picking them up. The sound of paper hitting the floor echoed in the silent room. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit nervous. It’s all so different from what I remember.” I paused, as if catching myself. “I mean, you know, right?” My head dipped as I peered out from worried eyebrows, barely making eye contact as I began to stammer. “I—I thought from what I do now, it was all the same…right? At least this is what I thought I recalled. It’s all such a blur… I’m sorry… I, uh. Did things change?”
The CEO’s smile widened fractionally—a predator satisfied its prey was truly toothless. I could almost smell his satisfaction, like blood in the water. My heart hammered against my ribs.
“Perhaps” His pause was poignant and calculated to get a response. “Perhaps your…accident is still too fresh. I only wanted to try to make up” Now he caught himself and I felt his hesitation before he continued, watched his eyes narrow slightly, searching for any flicker of recognition. “Take some time to focus on your current duties. We can revisit this transition… later. Maybe next year when employee evaluations come around.”
Walking out of that conference room on shaking legs wasn’t entirely an act. I’d done it—convinced them I was harmless. Eager, but incompetent in their world. But the relief mingled with genuine fear as I remembered exactly why that room had felt so familiar.
Filled with all the pretentiousness and arrogance I’d fought just to get where I was in that department. It hadn’t dissipated but in fact had grown to downright scoffing and sneers. My thoughts showed in my eyes as I looked in the polished metal of the elevator. If they knew what I really knew, they’d be terrified. I knew that but had to fix my expression.
The elevator ride down felt endless. I kept my shoulders slightly hunched, maintaining the appearance of someone rattled by failure, while my mind raced through every nuance of the CEO’s performance. His calculated pause, that careful slip about “making up” for something—testing to see if I’d react, if I remembered why he might need to make amends.
The mirrored walls of the elevator reflected my image from every angle, making me feel exposed. I could smell the perfume of whoever had ridden before me—something floral and cloying that made my head start to ache. The gentle hum of the elevator cables seemed too loud in my ears.
The doors opened onto my floor, and I let my posture straighten slightly, as if drawing comfort from returning to familiar territory. A quick glance showed Cassandra hovering near the stairs, no doubt hoping to catch Graham’s eye. Her perfume—too sweet, too much—reached me even from a distance. Perfect.
“Oh, Cassandra!” I injected just the right note of forced cheer into my voice. “Would you mind helping me with these? I’m afraid I made quite a mess of my presentation materials.” I fumbled the papers again, sending a few fluttering to the floor, where they landed with a soft, embarrassing rustle.
Cassandra’s perfectly plucked eyebrows rose as she took in my deliberately disheveled appearance. “Of course, Ms. Swanson.” Her tone carried barely concealed satisfaction at witnessing what she surely assumed was my professional stumble. I could almost taste her smug pleasure on the air.
April materialized from her office, reading the situation instantly. The familiar scent of her bergamot hand lotion reached me, comforting in its constancy. “I’ll take those, Cassandra. Ms. Swanson and I have the Holland campaign meeting to prepare for.” She gathered the scattered papers with efficient grace, her eyes meeting mine with professional concern. “Coffee first?”
“Please,” I replied, letting exhaustion seep into my voice—not entirely an act. My shoulders slumped forward as if under an invisible weight. “The A-List meeting was… well, I clearly have a lot to learn about readjusting.”
Cassandra practically vibrated with poorly concealed glee as she retreated, no doubt already planning how to spin this to Graham. By lunch, the entire office would know that Scarlett Swanson had crashed and burned in her attempt to return to A-List glory.
Splendid.
“I just don’t understand,” I said loudly enough for Cassandra to hear, my voice trembling slightly. The fake emotion still scraped my throat raw. “Why would they put me in that position? I knew nothing—absolutely nothing—about what they were discussing. God, April, I made such a fool of myself.” I pressed a hand to my forehead, the picture of professional mortification.
Movement caught my eye—Graham emerging from his office, looking down at us with careful professional concern as we climbed the stairs. Cassandra practically preened below, no doubt hoping he’d witnessed my apparent breakdown. I could feel her eyes boring into my back, sharp with satisfaction.
“It’s alright, Ms. Swanson,” April soothed, playing her part beautifully. Her hand brushed mine, a brief reassuring touch. “The Sports Division is completely different. You’ve done amazing work here.”
Graham disappeared back into his office, but not before I caught the nearly imperceptible nod. I glimpsed Cassandra’s satisfied smirk just before closing my office door behind us, the soft click of the latch a welcome sound of temporary safety.
The moment we were alone, April moved to a newly installed coffee station, her movements precise and efficient. The gentle clink of cups provided cover for any listening devices as we settled into our usual positions. The rich aroma of freshly ground beans filled the air, grounding me in the moment.
My desk phone buzzed, the sound harsh in the quiet office. “Ms. Swanson?” Georgia’s voice carried through the speaker. “Could you stop by? I need your signature on some vendor contracts.”
“Of course.” I stood, smoothing my skirt, feeling the fabric slide against my palms. “April, would you mind organizing those presentation materials while I’m gone? I’d like to salvage what we can for the Holland campaign.”
Georgia’s office was empty when I arrived, but the connecting door to Graham’s office stood slightly ajar. I slipped through, closing it silently behind me.
The moment I slipped through the connecting door, strong arms enveloped me. Graham had been waiting, and he pulled me into his embrace, his lips finding mine with desperate need. The privacy screens cast the office in gentle shadows, creating a momentary sanctuary from the performance we both maintained.
“Are you okay?” he breathed against my mouth, one hand cupping my face while the other pressed me closer. His warmth surrounded me, his heartbeat strong against my chest. “When Matthews started talking about making amends—”
I silenced him with another kiss, melting into his warmth. After the strain of the morning, after a night without him, I needed this—needed to feel real again, if only for a moment. My fingers tangled in his loosened ponytail as I pressed myself closer, drinking in his familiar scent of coffee and expensive cologne. The silky strands slipped through my fingers, a sensual counterpoint to the firm pressure of his lips.
“I missed you last night,” I whispered against his neck, letting myself be vulnerable in a way I couldn’t anywhere else. My body molded to his as if it belonged there, and in many ways it did. Here, wrapped in his arms, I didn’t have to pretend or perform. “I hate sleeping without you there.”
His arms tightened around me, and I felt the slight tremor in his hands—the only sign of how worried he’d been. The sensation made my throat tighten with emotion. “You were brilliant up there,” he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. “The way you handled Matthews” He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his own dark with both pride and concern.
Something in his expression made me pause. I pulled back slightly, studying his face, noting the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the tension lines around his mouth. “How did you know?”
Graham smiled, nuzzling against my neck. The rasp of his day-old stubble against my sensitive skin sent shivers cascading down my spine. “Matthews’ call came before you even exited the elevator, saying you were not a good fit for their department.” His lips brushed my skin as he chuckled softly. “I don’t know what you did, but I think it must have been epic!”
I traced his jawline with gentle fingers, feeling the subtle roughness there, allowing myself another moment to simply exist in his embrace. “I had to make them believe,” I said softly. “Had to make them think I was harmless.” The word carried all the irony of my morning performance.
Our bodies pressed together against the adjoining door to Georgia’s office warmed me, his heat seeping through the layers of our clothing. I wanted it to go on but stood straighter, reality intruding once more. “What if Georgia needs to come in, or God forbid Cassandra comes a knocking.”
Graham’s lips curled up into a smirk, his eyes darkening with a hunger that made my pulse race. “What do you think Georgia is doing?”
His eyes twinkled when he looked into mine, his hands lifting my skirt, the warmth on my legs sending shivers to my core. Cool air kissed my thighs where his hands exposed them. I wanted him so desperately, wanted him now, here where we stood. The need in his eyes told me I’d have him, and my body shuddered beneath his touch.
His fingers traced higher, finding the damp heat of my underwear. I bit my lip to keep from gasping, tasting the waxy remnants of my coral lipstick. The risk of discovery only heightened every sensation—the cool door against my back, the warmth of his hand, the scent of his cologne mingling with my arousal.
This moment, stolen in the midst of danger, felt more real than anything else in my carefully constructed life of lies. Here, with Graham’s hands on my body and his breath on my skin, I wasn’t pretending. This was the truest version of myself—desperate, wanting, alive.