Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
The next morning, Nate prowled inside his office, his long strides eating up the length of the floor with ease.
Every surface held memories of the previous night—Melody sprawled across his desk, her body yielding to his, her sighs of pleasure echoing in his ears. The scent of her floral perfume still lingered, making it impossible for him to focus.
He had helped to build an empire within these walls, commanded rooms full of publishing titans, and made million-dollar decisions without breaking a sweat. But one night with Melody Archer had shaken his carefully constructed world to its foundation.
The stack of manuscripts on his desk—manuscripts that represented authors who would kill to be published by Carlisle—might as well have been blank pages. All he could think about was the way Melody had felt beneath him, how perfectly she had fit in his hands, the sounds she had made when he—
His phone's harsh ring cut through the memory. Dad. Of course.
"Nathaniel Carlisle," he answered, his voice carrying the same authority he used in board meetings.
"Son," his father's gruff voice came through. "There's an important meeting tomorrow morning. I expect you to be there."
Nate resisted the urge to growl in frustration. Even at sixty-something years old, Liam Carlisle thought he could summon him like some junior executive. "What's it about?"
"The future of this company. And your place in it."
"Understood. Anything specific I should prepare?" His fingers drummed against the polished mahogany of his desk—the same desk where just hours ago, he had shown Melody exactly who was in charge.
"Just bring that sharp mind of yours. And leave any... distractions at home."
Nate's jaw clenched. If his father only knew what kind of "distraction" had been spread across his heir's desk last night. "I'll be there."
After hanging up, Nate stood at his floor-to-ceiling windows, surveying the Seattle skyline.
Everything he could see from here was part of his world—or would be, once he took over Carlisle Publishing.
And now he had complicated it all by giving in to his hunger for one stubborn, brilliant, maddening woman.
But god, what a complication she was.
He stalked the length of his office, energy thrumming through his six-foot-three frame.
This wasn't some rookie mistake. This was Melody Archer—the one author who had challenged him, matched him, made him want to be better.
The only woman who had ever made him consider risking his empire for a chance at something real.
His phone buzzed with a text from her:
Just wanted to say thanks for yesterday. The manuscript review, I mean.
The other stuff was pretty good too…
A predatory smile curved his lips as he typed back.
Always happy to provide thorough feedback. On all fronts.
Her reply came quickly:
Careful, Mr. Carlisle. That kind of talk could be considered sexual harassment in the workplace.
Only if it's unwelcome, Ms. Archer. We both know how much you enjoyed my... feedback last night.
Touché. Goodnight, Nate. Sweet dreams. ;)
He stared at his phone long after the screen went dark, a war raging inside him. On one side, there was the responsible executive, reminding him of the risks, the potential consequences. On the other, there was the man who was falling hard for Melody Archer, consequences be damned.
For now, the responsible executive won out. He couldn't tell anyone about this, not until he was sure it wouldn't jeopardize everything they had worked for. But as he turned back to his work, he couldn't help but wonder how long he would be able to keep this secret.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of half-read manuscripts and distracted thoughts. By the time he left the office, the cleaning crew was already making their rounds, giving him knowing looks as he hurried past. Great. Even the night staff could probably tell something was up.
As he drove home, his mind raced with possibilities and potential pitfalls. What if this thing with Melody didn't work out? Would they be able to maintain a professional relationship? What if it did work out? How would that affect their working dynamic?
And then there was his father and the board to consider. They were already breathing down his neck about Melody's book. If they found out about their personal involvement... He shuddered to think of the fallout.
By the time he reached his apartment, he had cycled through every worst-case scenario at least twice.
He collapsed onto his couch, loosening his tie with a heavy sigh. His eyes fell on the framed photo on his coffee table—a picture of his father and him at his college graduation. His father looked so proud, his hand on Nate's shoulder as they both beamed at the camera.
What would his father say if he knew what Nate was risking now?
He dragged himself to bed, setting his alarm for an ungodly hour.
As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think of Melody.
Was she lying awake too, mulling over the implications of what they had done?
Or was she sleeping peacefully, untroubled by the storm of emotions swirling in his chest?
Sleep eluded him for hours, his mind a constant loop of Melody's smile, his father's disapproving frown, and the ticking clock of professional disaster. When he finally drifted off, his dreams were a confusing jumble of boardroom presentations and passionate encounters on his office desk.
He woke up feeling like he had been hit by a truck, his alarm blaring like a foghorn in his ear.
As he stumbled through his morning routine, he tried to psych himself up for the meeting.
This was important, he reminded himself.
This could be a turning point in his career.
He needed to be focused, sharp, ready for anything.
But as he knotted his tie, all he could think about was how deftly Melody's fingers had loosened it just yesterday. He groaned, resting his forehead against the cool surface of his bathroom mirror. This was going to be a long day.
He arrived at the office early, determined to at least appear put-together and professional. As he walked into the boardroom, his father was already there, engaged in hushed conversation with a couple of board members he didn't recognize.
"Ah, Nathaniel," his father said as he approached, his tone unreadable. "Glad you could join us. We have much to discuss."
Nate nodded, taking his seat at the long table. As other executives filed in, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into something bigger than he realized. The air was thick with tension, and he caught more than a few curious glances thrown his way.
What exactly was this meeting about? And why did he suddenly feel like he was about to face a firing squad?
As his father called the meeting to order, Nate straightened in his chair, pushing thoughts of Melody to the back of his mind. Whatever was coming, he needed to be ready. The future of Carlisle Publishing—and his place in it—might very well hinge on what happened in this room today.
Here goes nothing.