Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Scarlett
The morning light filters through my apartment windows as I get ready for work. Last night with Miles still sits heavy in my mind—his desperate apologies, his broken demeanor, the way he looked at me like I could fix everything.
I push the thoughts away and focus on my routine. Shower, coffee, dress. By eight, I'm walking into Whitman Communications, ready to bury myself in work like I have been for the past two weeks.
My desk is exactly as I left it yesterday. I settle into my chair, open my laptop, and start going through emails. There's a project brief from a client, meeting notes from last week, the usual Monday morning chaos.
I'm halfway through my second coffee when my phone rings. Linda's extension.
"Scarlett, can you come to my office?"
"Of course. Be right there."
I grab my notebook and pen, wondering what this is about.
Linda doesn't usually call people to her office first thing in the morning unless something urgent has come up.
Her office is on the corner of our floor, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Chicago.
She's standing when I walk in, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Close the door," she says, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.
I close it and sit, notebook in my lap.
"What's going on?"
Linda sits down, leans forward, her eyes bright.
"I just got off the phone with a potential client. A huge potential client. And they've specifically requested you."
My stomach flips. "Requested me?"
"By name." Linda slides a folder across her desk.
"Blackwell Media Corp."
The name hits me like a physical blow. I freeze, my hand hovering over the folder.
Blackwell..
Dax.
"I know," Linda continues, not noticing my reaction.
"I know you and Miles didn't work out. And I'm sorry about that—I really am. But this is his family's company, right? Clearly your connection could actually be helpful here."
I force myself to open the folder. Inside are details about a PR crisis. Allegations against a former employee, embezzlement, fraud, ties to corporate oversight. It's a mess.
"They're in crisis mode," Linda explains.
"They need aggressive damage control, and they specifically asked for you. Said they'd heard great things about your work."
My mind is racing. Dax did this. He orchestrated this. He specifically requested me.
"I..." I start, but my throat is tight.
"I don't know if I can accept this."
Linda's excitement dims. "What? Why not?"
"It's complicated. With Miles, with everything that happened—"
"Scarlett." Linda's voice becomes firm.
"I understand it's hard. I do. But I hope you can put aside your differences here. You won't be working directly with Miles anyway. He's not involved in the media company—he's a journalist, works independently. This would be with the corporate team."
I stare at the folder. Three times the regular rate. Relocation to NYC. All expenses paid. Six-month contract.
Dax is doing this to get me to New York. To work with him. To be near him.
"This is..." Linda stands, pacing to her window.
"Scarlett, this is the kind of client that could skyrocket our firm's reputation. Whitman Communications handling a crisis for one of the top five media conglomerates in the country? Do you know what that would mean for us?"
"I understand, but—"
"They want an answer by five PM today." Linda turns to face me.
"And they need you in New York by Monday."
Monday. Only five days from now.
"That's..." I shake my head. "That's so fast."
"I know..it's odd. But as they say in our industry; ‘Scandal waits for no one’," Linda admits..
"They already have PR people in their NYC branch. But the Blackwell name carries too much weight to ask questions. When someone like that makes a specific request, you don't say no."
She sits back down, her expression softening.
"Look, I know this is a lot. And I know it's personal for you because of Miles. But this is a massive opportunity. For you, for the firm, for your career."
I can't breathe. Can't think. Dax maneuvered this entire thing.
"Can I have a couple hours to think about it?" I ask.
Linda's face tightens with concern.
"Scarlett, please don't disappoint me on this. I need to give them an answer today."
"I know. I just... I need a couple hours. That's all."
She studies me for a long moment, then nods.
"Okay. But I need your decision by this afternoon. Understood?"
"Understood."
I stand, the folder clutched in my hands, and walk out of her office on shaky legs.
Back at my desk, I sink into my chair and stare at the folder.
Blackwell Media Corp.
Dax Blackwell.
He orchestrated an entire corporate contract to get me to New York. My phone is in my hand before I can think about it. I dial Jane's number. She answers on the second ring.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Can you meet for lunch?" My voice comes out higher than normal.
"It's urgent. I really need to talk."
Jane's tone shifts immediately.
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine. I just... I need to talk to you. Are you free?"
"Let me check." A pause, keyboard clicking.
"Yeah, I can move some things around. Where do you want to meet?"
"That Italian place near my office? Noon?"
"I'll be there. Scarlett, are you sure you're okay?"
"I will be. I just need to talk. See you at noon."
I hang up and stare at my computer screen, unseeing.
***
The restaurant is busy when I arrive, the lunch rush in full swing. Jane is already there, seated at a corner table, two glasses of water waiting.
She stands when she sees me, pulling me into a hug.
"You look stressed. What's going on?"
We sit, and I immediately grab my water, taking a long drink to buy myself time.
"Sarah's on a work trip," Jane says.
"Philadelphia for the rest of the week. So it's just us. Now tell me what's happening."
I set my water down and take a breath.
"I got offered a job this morning."
Jane's eyes widen. "A job? Like, a new job?"
"No, an assignment. A client. Through Whitman." I pause. "It's in New York. Six-month contract. Relocation, all expenses paid, three times my normal rate."
"Holy shit." Jane leans forward. "That's amazing! Why do you look like someone died?"
"Because the client is Blackwell Media Corp."
Jane blinks. "Blackwell. As in... Miles's family?"
"As in Dax's company."
Understanding dawns on her face. "Oh."
"Yeah."
The waiter appears to take our order. We both order quickly without looking at the menu, eager to get back to the conversation.
Once he's gone, Jane leans in.
"Okay, so Dax's company wants to hire you. That's... I mean, it makes sense, right? You're good at what you do. And maybe they don't even know about the Miles connection—"
"They specifically requested me by name," I interrupt.
Jane's mouth falls open. "Oh my God."
"Jane, there's more." I twist my napkin in my hands.
"I need to tell you something. And you can't freak out."
"When has telling someone not to freak out ever worked?" But her expression is serious.
"What is it?"
I take another breath. Here goes nothing.
"The night of the wedding. After Miles didn't show up. After I locked myself in the bathroom and everyone left..." I pause.
"I ended up on the hotel terrace. And Dax found me there."
Jane nods slowly. "Okay..."
"We talked. I was drinking champagne straight from the bottle. I was devastated and drunk and humiliated."
The words are coming faster now.
"And we... we kissed. And then we went to his hotel suite. And we... we had sex."
Jane's eyes go wide as saucers. "WHAT?!"
Her voice carries across the restaurant. Several patrons turn to stare. I feel my face burning.
"Jane—"
"You had SEX with DAX?!" She's half-standing now, hands flat on the table.
"The night of the wedding? Miles's brOTHER?!"
"Please sit down," I hiss, glancing around.
"People are staring."
She sits, but her expression is still shocked.
"Scarlett. Oh my God. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."
So I do. I tell her about finding Dax on the terrace. The conversation. The way he looked at me. The way I felt so broken and lost and desperate to feel anything other than pain. The way we ended up in his suite. The intensity of it.
Jane listens, her eyes getting wider with every detail.
"And then the next morning, I panicked and left before he woke up," I finish.
"He went back to New York…and I tried to pretend it never happened."
"But then you went to New York," Jane says slowly.
"With me and Sarah."
I nod. "And we ended up at that lounge."
Jane's hand flies to her mouth.
"Wait. Is THAT why you and Dax stepped away to talk that night? I thought you were just... oh my God." She leans closer, dropping her voice to an urgent whisper.
"What happened?"
I can feel my face turning redder.
"We went to a private bathroom. And we... we had sex. Again."
"OH MY GOD!" Jane screams again, louder this time. The waiter approaching with our food actually stops in his tracks.
I bury my face in my hands. "Jane, please."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She waves the waiter over, trying to compose herself.
"I just... Scarlett. You had bathroom sex with Dax Blackwell at a lounge in Manhattan?"
"Yes," I whisper as our plates are set down.
The waiter leaves quickly, probably sensing the chaos at our table.
Jane picks up her fork, then sets it down.
"Okay. I need details. All the details. How was it? Was it good? Was it... oh God, it was good, wasn't it?"
Despite everything, I feel a small smile.
"It was... yeah. It was really good."
"Better than Miles?"
I nod slowly.
"There's no comparison, Jane. With Miles, sex was... fine. Comfortable. Routine. With Dax, it's..." I search for the right word.
"Mindblowing."
Jane leans back in her chair, shaking her head.
"This is insane. Absolutely insane. And now he's trying to bring you to New York?"
"He specifically requested me for this assignment. By name."
"Because he wants you there."
"I know."
We sit in silence for a moment, both of us processing.
"Okay," Jane finally says.
"Let me ask you the hard questions. How do you really feel about all this? Do you still have feelings for Miles? Are you willing to give him another chance?"
I stab at my salad.
"I still care about Miles. I do. But after what he did, after the humiliation, after he showed up at my door begging for forgiveness..." I shake my head.
"It seems impossible to even consider giving him a second chance."
"Good," Jane says firmly.
"Because he doesn't deserve one."
"But Dax..." I set down my fork.
"Dealing with Dax is dangerous. There's no emotional stability there. It's just physical. Just sex. He probably does this with women all the time."
Jane scoffs, picking up her wine.
"Right…Because Miles leaving you standing in your wedding dress in front of the people you know and love is the epitome of emotional stability."
I can't help it—I laugh. A real laugh, the first one I've had since this conversation started.
"Look," Jane continues.
"I'm not saying Dax is perfect. I'm not saying this is going to work out or that it's not complicated as hell. But Scarlett..." She reaches across the table and takes my hand.
"You deserve a win. You deserve to feel good. To feel wanted. To feel like you're not playing small”.
"But what if it all blows up?" I ask quietly.
"What if I go to New York and it's a disaster?"
"What if you don't go and you spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened?" Jane squeezes my hand.
"Take the job. Let the cards fall where they may. If Dax went out of his way like this to bring you back to NYC, you need to see what he's really about. See if there's something real there or if it's just... you know."
"Just sex."
"Just sex," she confirms.
"Either way, you'll know. And you'll be making great money and getting amazing experience in the process."
I look down at our joined hands.
"You really think I should take it?"
"I think you'd be crazy not to." Jane releases my hand and picks up her fork.
"Now eat your salad and tell me every single detail about that bathroom encounter. I want to live vicariously through you."
I laugh again, and for the first time since Linda called me into her office this morning, I feel like I can breathe. The walk back to my office feels different. Lighter somehow, despite the weight of the decision I'm about to make.
Jane's words echo in my head: You deserve a win. Let the cards fall where they may.
She's right. What's the alternative? Stay in Chicago, keep seeing Miles hovering around the edges of my life, wondering what might have happened if I'd been brave enough to take the risk?
I've spent too much of my life playing it safe. Playing small. Making myself smaller to fit into Miles's comfortable, routine world.
Maybe it's time to be bold.
By the time I reach the office, my decision is made. I don't even stop at my desk. I walk straight to Linda's office and knock on her door.
"Come in."
I open the door and step inside. Linda looks up from her computer, her expression hopeful and anxious at the same time.
"I'll take the client," I say.
Relief floods Linda's face. She stands, coming around her desk.
"Thank God. You had me worried there for a minute."
"I need the details," I tell her.
"The full contract, the housing arrangements, everything."
"Of course." Linda pulls out the folder again, this time opening it fully.
"Six-month contract starting next Monday. Base salary plus performance bonuses. Relocation allowance. Furnished apartment in Manhattan—they’ll handle the leasing, just need your approval. All expenses covered by Blackwell Media Corp."
She slides several documents toward me.
"I'll need your signature on these. And I'll coordinate with their team to get you set up."
I pick up the pen she offers and start signing where she indicates.
"This is going to be huge for you, Scarlett," Linda says as I work through the papers.
"For all of us. This is the kind of client that opens doors."
I nod, not trusting my voice. Because the truth is, I'm not doing this for Whitman Communications. I'm not even really doing it for my career.
I'm doing it because Dax Blackwell orchestrated an entire corporate contract to bring me to New York, and I need to know why.
I need to know if it's just sex. Just physical.
Just another conquest for a powerful man who can have anyone he wants.
Or if it's something more. I finish signing the last document and hand the pen back to Linda.
"Welcome to the Blackwell account," she says, smiling.
"Big changes on the horizon."
I force a smile back. "I know."
Because she's right. One way or another, this is going to change everything.
I just hope I'm ready for it.