8
JAKE
Sitting in my office chair, I am doing my best to focus on the emails in front of me as I flick my pen, the clicking sound not helping in the least. And my eyes keep wandering toward the door and glancing at the clock every few minutes.
I press the intercom button. "Bea, has Kiera arrived yet?"
Bea's voice, a touch annoyed, filters through the intercom. "Not in the last thirty seconds since you asked, Jake. She's not due for another twenty minutes."
"Right, right. Just curious." My eye fly to the clock again. Fuck, she’s right. It’s way too early still.
Another couple of emails read and the clicking of my pen drives me wild, but I can’t seem to put the damned thing down.
Without me even trying, my finger reaches the intercom. "Bea, any sign of Kiera?"
“Still eighteen minutes to go. Don’t worry. If you didn’t scare her away yesterday, she should be here soon, Mr. Bennett.”
Shit. Bea calling me Mr. Bennett is not a good sign.
Why am I this nervous?
I try to distract myself with more emails, and I think a lot of time passed and still no sign of Kiera. I am trying to hold myself back but somehow my finger is back on that intercom and I’m asking about her again.
Bea appears at my door. "Jake, seriously, she's not here yet because there are still sixteen minutes to go before she is due to be here. Now, do you want me to set up a camera or something?"
I chuckle, attempting to play it off. "No, no, just checking. Thanks, Bea. I’m just super excited for the collaboration to start.”
“I’ll send her into your office as soon as she logs in.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say. “She’s not reporting to me today.”
“Is everything ok?”
“I’m fine.” I clear my throat. “But thanks for your concern.”
As soon as Bea turns her back to go to back to her desk, I lean back in my chair, and exhale deeply.
Closing my eyes, I try to shake off the lingering chaos that Kiera's presence seems to unleash within me. I didn't expect such a visceral reaction.
Sure, I've thought about her over the years. More than I care to admit.
But this is me we are talking about. I've prided myself on control in the workplace, always remaining professional. Yet, apparently, not when it comes to Kiera.
She made her displeasure at having to work with me abundantly clear. The sharpness of her words, the icy glances—she still hates me. Nothing has changed since the night she walked out on me.
I should have shut her down and set the boundaries firmly in place, but I find myself more frustrated than ever.
What is it about her that unravels me like this?
I could navigate this easily, but Kiera has a way of stirring up emotions I'd rather keep buried.
I take a deep breath, attempting to regain my composure.
“What the fuck, man? Are you a damned teenager? Get a grip , ” I mutter.
A small giggle comes from my office door, and my eyes snap open to Kiera standing by the door.
"Talking to yourself? Is that the secret ingredient to being so successful? And here I thought it was your connection to the community."
I sit up so fast I almost knock myself over. Standing up, I clear my throat. "I happen to be very good at what I do as well."
Kiera gives me a crooked eyebrow stare.
"Successful and humble. What a delightful combo." Her tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and tease and something else I can't quite place.
"What are you doing here? You're not due for another fifteen minutes."
“Maybe I’m trying to earn brownie points for getting here ahead of schedule.” She shrugs and smirks.
“Well, you’re on the right track. But the truth is we have a deadline. You have some clients to deal with, and then we’re leaving for France in five days.”
She nods.” Then I better get back to work. I still have a lot to go through."
I nod. "I'm assigning your private client work today. I want to see how you handle it and get a sense of your approach. Consider it a test run."
She raises an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and determination in her gaze. "A test run for France in five days?"
I nod.
"Ideally, you’d be eased into it. But circumstances demand we fast-track your involvement.”
“Jake, you’re not doing it to set me up to fail, are you?”
“No,” I say, finally looking up at her. “Because I believe in you. Maybe you should have more faith in me.”
This seems to catch her off-guard.
Keeping my eyes on her, I slide the client file across my desk toward Kiera. "Here's your first assignment."
She takes the file, her fingers tracing the embossed letters on the cover.
“The deal needs to be closed before we fly to France. I want you to handle it, start to finish."
Kiera looks up at me, her expression unreadable.
“The client's requirements are outlined in the file. I need you to understand their needs and deal with them accordingly. If everything goes well, he can become one of our most lucrative clients.”
“Got it.” Kiera
nods and heads toward the door.
The click of the closing door echoes in the quiet office. I sigh and my body sags a bit.
I sit down and try to focus for the rest of my workday but it’s impossible.
It's her first case, and I expected questions and clarifications – the usual onboarding process to ensure she’s on the right track. Yet, the office remains eerily quiet.
A few hours pass without hearing from her.
How’s she doing?
When I can’t stand it anymore, I leave my office and go to Kiera's desk, scanning the surrounding area for any sign of her.
The office is abuzz with activity, but her absence is conspicuous.
As I approach her desk, I find it strangely neat, as if untouched. The lack of any signs of her working on the assignment sends a ripple of concern through me.
Where is she?
After roaming through several rooms in the office, I finally find Kiera in an empty conference room, surrounded by scattered papers and her laptop open as she diligently takes notes.
"Kiera?"
She looks up, a hint of embarrassment crossing her features as she takes in the mess around her.
"Oh, Jake. I, uh, I’m sorry. I can leave if you want." She starts hastily gathering some of the scattered papers.
"No, please stay. I was just wondering if you need any help." I step into the room. “What are you doing in here?”
"At the museum, this was my go-to method. I guess old habits die hard." She smiles but it’s a sheepish smile.
I chuckle. "Kiera, I don't care where you work, as long as you get it done. So, where are we on the client case?"
“I've been going through the details and drafting a proposal.”
"I noticed you haven't come in to ask any questions."
Kiera hesitates for a moment before nodding. "I've got it under control.”
I raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure? It's a challenging case, and I want to make sure you have all the information you need."
Her response is a polite smile. “I’ve got it.”
Kiera seems determined to tackle the task independently, but I lower myself to the floor, sitting down next to her.
"Jake, I've got this. You don't need to babysit me,” she says.
I can't help but catch a whiff of her. It's subtle yet captivating, a delicate blend of floral notes with a hint of warmth that lingers in the air. The scent is uniquely hers, and it wraps around me, creating an almost tangible connection.
Damn it, why is it so hard to keep my composure around her?
"Well, I've noticed the client seems particularly interested in modern interpretations of classic styles. They've emphasized a desire for a contemporary touch while still maintaining a sense of tradition."
I nod. "That's a crucial insight. It gives us a clear direction for the proposal. What about the budget constraints? Any concerns there?"
She furrows her brow, contemplating the figures. "It's a bit tight, but I think we can manage.”
“That’s what she said.” I look at her, and her wide eyes and the O on her lips make it worth it.
I don’t give her much time to react, though. I'm impressed by her analytical approach. "Great thinking, Kiera. Now, have you considered the timeline they provided? They're quite adamant about a quick turnaround."
“I think we can figure something out,” she says. “You have some great artwork in your inventory.”
“Is that a compliment?” I ask.
“Are you fishing for one?” she quips.
“Nope,” I say.
“I mean, it won’t be the first time that happened,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, amused.
“You were always the teacher’s pet,” Kiera says.
“It’s not my fault that the teachers were enamored by me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I mean, you chaperoned the Senior prom because Mrs. Wesley thought you would be perfect for it.”
“And that’s bad how?”
“You were a junior,” Kiera says, exasperated. “I don’t think you were even supposed to be there. Also, remember how the librarian conveniently told you your late fee was waived even though you forgot to turn in the book two weeks after the deadline? Meanwhile, she got a dollar off me because I was late by a day. I don’t know what you did to those poor women.”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you. I was just being myself.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Hey, I got you off trouble with Miss Linden after she almost caught you sneaking into the library to have lunch—oh, I’m sorry, you were on a date with Daniel Caesarean.”
“Ugh, I regret bringing you in for that. And what did you have to pay for that?” she says, rolling her eyes.
I smile at her cheekily. “Just a kiss.”
“Wait, you kissed our eighty-year-old librarian?” She laughs so hard she almost doubles over.
“First of all, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. Secondly, she wasn’t eighty, and I was saving your butt.”
“Really? And is that the reason you came looking for me?” Kiera says. “Because you’re saving my butt again?”
“Well, that’s what friends do.”
Her face clouds, and I regret my words immediately. “You’re my boss, Jacob.”
I hate when she uses my full name.
She starts to gather her stuff. “You don’t have to do this.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re trying to make up for something that happened years ago.”
“What happened exactly?”
“You know what? I don’t want to get into it right now,” Kiera says. “We’re going to France in five days.”
“Yes, that’s right. This is childish.”
Kiera looks like she’s about to say something but seems to change her mind at the last second.
She scrolls through the laptop, making notes and putting tabs on paintings she likes.
“I think I’ve got what the client needs, and based on all of that, I have shortlisted three paintings.”
She hesitates then, but I urge her. “Go on.”
Kiera points each picture to me and after she’s done, she holds in her breath.
“Wow, those are some very unconventional choices, but I’m going to send the choices to the client.”
“Really? You’re not going to run it through your team?”
“No. I trust your choice. I think you’re onto something.”
I reach for the sheaf of papers at the same time she does.
As our fingers accidentally brush against each other, a jolt of electricity courses through me. It's a fleeting touch, almost imperceptible, yet it sends a wave of warmth through my veins.
The scent of her lingers, mingling with the unspoken tension.
I steal a glance, finding her eyes meeting mine. There's a flicker of something there before she quickly gets up.
“Um, I think we’re done here,” she says.
“Yes, we are.” I stand up. “I think we did good work here.”
“Yeah,” she says, not meeting my gaze. “Real good.”
“Get ready for Paris.”
This time, she finally looks at me.
“How do you…”
“You’ve nailed the choices. We have been discussing this for the past three weeks, going back and forth with the client, and you came in here and solved our problem.”
“But you haven’t even sent anything to the client yet. How can you tell?”
“I have a good feeling about it. Look, just come into my office. I’ll email the client with your choices, and I also have some additional files for the museum project that I wanted to hand over to you.”
“Okay.”
We leave the conference room, her trailing behind me, and I enter my office, moving over to my desk, and pull out the folder even before Kiera walks in.
Deep down, she’s still the girl I’ve known for so long. Th girl I loved.
Crap, why am I still thinking about that?
She hates my guts and is probably never going to forgive me.
Kiera gathers her folder, and without saying a word, walks out.
Just as she leaves, Henry walks in, his eyes widening as they follow her retreating figure. She doesn't acknowledge him and walks away without a word.
Once Kiera is out of earshot, Henry turns to me, a look of disbelief etched on his face. "Is that Kiera fricking Crofton?"
I nod, preparing myself for the aftermath of this revelation. "Yeah, about that. She's my new employee."
The silence that follows is deafening. I can practically see the wheels turning in Henry's head.
"Jake, are you out of your mind?" he finally exclaims, his voice a hushed whisper, as if Kiera might still hear.
"Henry, she's qualified, talented, and a valuable addition to the team. What's the problem?"
His expression shifts from disbelief to a cautious realization. "The problem, my friend, is that she’s your former best friend who you’re in love with since forever, and whom you slept with right after she dumped your other best friend.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds so fucked up.”
“That’s because it is. I mean, I would expect Chris to behave this way, but you? And how do you think he’s going to react when he finds out? Have you met the guy? He is our friend, but he is not only a narcissist but also a diva.”
“He’s not…wait. I’m not in love with Kiera.”
“Took you long enough to deny it,” he says, rolling his eyes.
"Well, I've hired her for her professional skills, not our personal history. We can keep it strictly business."
Henry lets out a sigh. "If you say so, Jake. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?