14. Carson
Mallory is sitting in the back row, wide-eyed, as every reporter in the room spins to search her out, craning their necks and trying to gauge her reaction. As am I.
And so far? The jury’s still out.
This isn’t the response I imagined when I pictured this moment any of the hundreds of times I’ve played it in my mind over these past few months. Maybe, I moved too far too fast. Perhaps, I should have given a more generic answer and waited to speak with Mallory privately, away from dozens of reporters and cameras.
But I don’t regret declaring my intentions aloud in front of a room full when I have no idea what she’ll say in return. Because I mean it.
My eyes are still on her when the overeager reporter in the front row pipes up again. “Does this mean you’re no longer one of the most eligible bachelors of the year, according to Chicago Magazine?”
I grip the podium with both hands. My fingers tightening on the edges. “I sure hope so.”
It’s been almost four months with no contact. The entire summer and into the fall was spent putting pieces into place and biding my time. And now that the cat is out of the bag, Mallory’s not even throwing me a bone. Not a hint of that beautiful smile or a clue she’s thrilled I’m no longer press.
I fell for Mallory Stone four months ago and thought she had feelings for me, too. In my case, absence made the heart grow fonder, but maybe, it was the opposite for her. Good thing I’ve never been the type to give up once I’ve determined the end game. As long as it’s not a no from her, there’s a chance.
I wrap up quickly at the microphone. First, thanking everyone for coming and then assuring them both Bennett Media Group and the Foundation will come out soon with more information about the transitions. Then, without wasting a minute, I make my way through the crowd to Mallory in the back row. But rather than dispersing, those gathered turn to watch, as if the press conference hasn’t officially ended.
“Mallory,” I murmur, as she rises and holds my gaze.
“Carson.”
Her tone is even. Polished. Unreadable. I step close enough to tease my senses with a whiff of her bright perfume, but I keep enough distance between us to be professional. Even though I’d give anything to kiss those lush pink lips right about now.
“Do you have a minute?” I ask, knowing her answer will tell me everything.
A beat and then, “I do.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “I was hoping you’d say that. There’s another room where we can talk. Somewhere a little more private.”
“This works for me.”
My brows come together, and I glance around. There are reporters surrounding us with recording devices and cameras and—
“I thought you were just playing,” she says, dragging my attention back to her face, completely composed save for the small V forming between her delicate brows.
“I was,” I assure her, my tone threaded with steel. “I was playing for keeps.”
Her head tilts to one side. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“When did you decide to leave the company?”
I reach for her hands, holding them in mine, grateful she doesn’t jerk away. “Remember at the wedding, on the patio that sunny afternoon, when we were getting ready to practice walking down the aisle?”
“Of course.”
“And do you remember standing there, in that light-green dress and high heels, telling me I was off limits because I was press?”
“Yes.”
“That’s when.”
“Oh.”
She studies me, considering my answer. Her gaze narrows, as if she’s contemplating her response. Which isn’t a good sign. Surely, she’s about to announce to my face, and everyone within hearing distance, and really, the entire city of Chicago, that I’m crazy. That I shouldn’t have left my position with the only company I’ve ever known because she doesn’t feel the same. Doesn’t want to see what the two of us could be without our roles standing in the way.
I cringe, my grip tightening on hers as I wait for the public rejection I deserve for pressing her into a corner in front of an audience of spectators, most of whom she knows. For not giving her an easy, off-the-record way to turn me down flat.
But just as I open my mouth to ask, once more, if she’d like to go somewhere private, Mallory erases this distance between us and presses her lips to mine. I stagger back, caught off guard by the ambush, but catch myself.
Before my brain can work through what’s happening and what it means, my body reacts automatically. I release Mallory’s hands and wrap my arms around her. My fingers weaving through her hair as I deepen the kiss, because I’ve been craving her touch for months. And because she just declared herself mine.
After a long minute, the clicking of cameras and commotion surrounding us works its way through my consciousness. With one last peck, I draw back, still holding her close.
“That’s going to make the news, you know,” I murmur, as her eyelids flutter open.
“I sure hope so.”
A wave of confusion washes over me until the hint of a smile curls the corner of her lips. She’s up to something, and even if I don’t, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Because of course, this brilliant, beautiful woman does.
“Are you using me for publicity, Ms. Stone?”
“Quite the opposite,” she replies, dropping her voice as she wraps her arms around my neck to whisper in my ear, “I’m helping you.”
“I’m not arguing, but tell me how, exactly?”
“You’re now leading a non-profit that, I assume, could use some donations to support its good work, no?”
“Yes.”
“Consider this the start of some very good press you’ll be able to harness to benefit those you serve.”
I draw back again, my head shaking. From the minute I met Mallory, I was impressed, but this? This is next level.
“Any chance I could hire you away from AV Industries? I could use someone like you on my team.”
She scoffs but bites back a smile. “Not a chance in hell. You already know how I feel about conflicts of interest.”
“Is that what I’d be if you worked for me?”
“Yes, because boyfriend and boss aren’t a magnificent combination.”
I shake my head and dip my chin as a wide smile spreads across my face. I was dazzled from the instant I met Mallory and still can’t believe my luck that everything worked out. That this witty, observant, whip smart, competitive bombshell is no longer single. She’s mine.