Chapter 11
JUNO
Istared at my computer screen, my stomach twisting as the view count climbed higher. Kari leaned over my shoulder, scrolling through the comments section with an enthusiasm I definitely didn’t share.
“Look at this comment,” she said, pointing. “‘They seem so genuine together. You can tell they really respect each other.’ That’s good, right?”
“I guess.” I clicked refresh, watching the numbers tick upward. The video had been live for less than twenty-four hours and it already had half a million views. Half a million people watching me pretend to like Hollis Blackwell.
And vice versa.
The comments kept flooding in. Most of them were positive, thankfully. People seemed to buy the whole “we’ve moved past our differences” narrative. I never thought of myself as an actress, but hell, I should be nominated for an Oscar after that performance.
Unfortunately, there were the usual trolls and bots, of course. They posted inflammatory garbage designed to get people arguing in the replies. I’d learned a long time ago not to engage with that nonsense.
But then there were the other comments. The ones that made my jaw clench.
“OMG the chemistry between them!!!”
“Did anyone else notice the way they look at each other?”
“The sexual tension is OFF THE CHARTS”
“I’d kill to have Hollis Blackwell look at me like that!”
I scrolled past those quickly, but Kari caught one before I could hide it.
“Oh, they fucking,” she read aloud, then burst out laughing.
“Kari!”
“What? That’s what it says!” She pointed at the screen. “Look, it has three thousand likes.”
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. “Why are people like this?”
“Because you two do have chemistry,” Kari said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Anyone with eyes can see it.”
“We don’t have chemistry. We have mutual annoyance.”
“Potato, potahto.”
“Not the same.”
Kari shrugged. “You know what they say about passion.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Love and hate are two flames of the same fire.”
I looked at her, lips curled back. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“Just think of the sex you two would have.” She sighed. “You’d tear each other’s clothes off. Passion. White-hot. Damn.” She fanned her face.
“Please don’t picture me having sex.” I glared at her, but she just grinned and kept scrolling. More comments appeared, variations on the same theme. Someone had even made a gif of a moment from the interview where I’d laughed at something Hollis said, looping it with heart emojis.
And fine. He was attractive. Ridiculously so.
But attractive didn’t mean I wanted to sleep with him. Attractive didn’t mean I was interested in him as anything other than a business associate I was forced to work with.
Although…
I shook my head, physically trying to dislodge the thought before it could fully form. No. Absolutely not. I was not going there.
Hollis Blackwell was infuriating. He was cocky and presumptuous and had a smile that made me want to throw things at his stupid handsome face. Working with him was like wearing a sandpaper bra, constant irritation in places that should never be irritated.
If I could just shove a ball gag in his mouth so he’d stop talking, stop smirking, then maybe he’d be tolerable.
I realized what I was thinking and felt heat burning through me. A ball gag? Really? Where the hell had that come from?
“You okay?” Kari asked. “Were you picturing it too?”
“No.” I grabbed my water bottle and took a long drink, trying to cool down the thoughts that had no business being in my head. “I’m fine. Just tired of reading comments.”
“Well, the good news is that the PR strategy worked. People are eating this up. Your dad’s going to be thrilled.”
She was right. The narrative had shifted exactly the way Patricia had predicted.
Instead of “Young at Heart sends corporate shill to attack small business,” the story was now “Former rivals join forces for exciting new partnership.” The comments about our company were positive again. The harassment had died down.
I should have felt relieved. Vindicated, even.
Instead, I felt unsettled. Itchy. Like a tornado was barreling down on me and I wasn’t running for the shelter. Hollis was a natural disaster that would wreck my life if I let him.
“It’s a shame you two don’t get along,” Kari said with a loud sigh. “Because you really do make a good-looking couple.”
My head snapped up. “We’re not a couple.”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying, if you were, imagine your pretty babies.”
“Your imagination needs to mind its own damn business,” I said. “There’s literally zero chance of that happening. Hollis is never getting near my babymaker.”
Kari held up her hands in surrender. “I’m not suggesting?—”
My father knocked on my office door and let himself in. I quickly minimized the browser window, not wanting him to see me obsessing over comments.
“There’s my star,” he said, his face breaking into a proud smile. “Juno, you were fantastic in that interview. Absolutely fantastic.”
That felt good. I loved making my father proud. A double dose of ego boost. My boss and my father were proud of me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Professional, articulate, genuine.” He came around my desk and squeezed my shoulder. “I know working with Hollis isn’t your first choice, but you handled it beautifully. Thank you for putting your personal feelings aside and doing what’s best for the company.”
My father’s approval had always meant everything to me. I’d spent my entire career trying to prove I deserved my position, that I wasn’t just the boss’s daughter coasting on nepotism.
“I’m just doing my job,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
“You’re doing more than that. You’re showing real leadership.” He headed for the door. “Keep it up, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”
He was almost out the door when I remembered. “Dad, wait.”
He turned back. “Yeah?”
“I’ll be leaving in two days. I’m going with Hollis to meet with the PriceCo people.” I tried to sound casual about it, like it was no big deal. Like the thought of traveling to New York with Hollis Blackwell didn’t make my stomach flip. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.”
“Good, good. That’s excellent.” He nodded approvingly. “Show them what Young at Heart brings to the table. Make sure they know this partnership is the real deal. If you guys pull off what you’ve done with that video, Hollis might hit the target sales goal with that one meeting.”
“Let’s hope.”
“We’ve been trying to get into PriceCo for years,” he said. “This is great!”
I smiled. “No pressure.”
“And Juno?” He paused in the doorway. “Try to have a little fun while you’re there. All work and no play, you know.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with Kari, who was trying very hard not to grin.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
We both stared at the screen.
“So, what are you going to wear?” Kari asked.
“I have no idea but I’m not going to buy more clothes just for him. It’s a business meeting. I have business clothes. That’s what I’m going to wear.”
“Boo. I would so be down for another shopping spree.”
“Not today. I have to work and get ready for this meeting. You heard my dad.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone.”
She left the office and I mentally catalogued my wardrobe, thinking of a few options for the meeting.
When I got home, I popped one of the frozen meals in the microwave and headed for my closet. I had a nice closet, filled with plenty of professional attire. Power suits. Simple dresses for a casual meeting. Cocktail dresses for those times we hosted big openings.
But I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to wear in front of him.
It was less than forty-eight hours in New York. Fly in the night before, sleep, meet the following day, and then fly right back. Two outfits. Maybe three just in case there was a wardrobe disaster.
I laid out the gray suit first. The one I’d worn to a dozen negotiations.
I’d got it on clearance but it was technically designer.
It was well made, perfectly tailored, and about as exciting as a spreadsheet.
Which was the point. Nobody looked at me in that suit and thought anything except she probably knows what the profit margins are.
Because I did.
So, why was I hesitating? Put it in the garment bag. Simple.
“No,” I said out loud, to nobody. “It’s fine. It’s professional.”
But it made me look like the shrew in that first viral video. The latest video’s outfit was chill. Professional but it didn’t look like I was going to whack anyone’s knuckles with a ruler.
Hollis was going to walk in there looking like a magazine spread come to life. He’d wear something that cost more than my rent and make it look like he’d just pulled it from the back of his closet.
I couldn’t stand next to that in a gray suit that made me look like I was there to take notes.
So it wasn’t vanity. It was strategy.
I went to my closet and pulled out the sage green sheath dress with the cinched waist. I’d bought it at the end of last season when it was on sale.
I’d worn it exactly once. It was gorgeous and it looked damn good on me.
It hit just above the knee, hugged my hips, nipped in at the waist, and the neckline was high enough to be respectable but low enough to remind everyone I was a woman.
The color did something ridiculous to my eyes.
I held it up against myself in the mirror.
Yes. That was a dress that could stand next to Hollis and not completely fade into the background.
I laid it carefully on the bed.
Then I paused.
Did I want to dress for him?
“No, it’s for PriceCo,” I said, sliding it into the garment bag. I put some nude heels into the suitcase along with panties and bras. Yes, I chose the good ones that matched. Not that I expected anyone except me and the bathroom mirror to see them.
I looked at the dress and then the basic bitch nude heels.
“Nope. If you’re going to do it, go all in.”
I packed the black stilettos with the red soles instead. I looked at them sitting there. Four inches of pure, calculated aggression with a sexy twist.
“They make me feel confident,” I told the suitcase. “Confidence closes deals.”
Next came the plane outfit. Nobody cared what you wore on a plane. Planes were about being comfy. The outfit had to look good when I got on and off. There would be no leggings. I had to look professional.
I rifled through the hangers until I found the black blouse with the wrinkle-free fabric.
It paired perfectly with the dark wash jeans that hugged my hips and made my legs look longer than they had any right to.
Both were soft enough for a cross-country flight but polished enough that I wouldn’t look like I’d just rolled out of bed when we landed.
Black loafers would finish off the ensemble.
I zipped the garment bag and stared at it, already rethinking my choices. This wasn’t about impressing Hollis.
Still, my stomach fluttered at the thought of him seeing me in that green dress. I shoved the feeling down and focused on packing the rest.
By the time I crawled into bed, my mind wouldn’t quiet down. All I could picture was the way Hollis’s eyes had lingered on me during the interview. The comments about our so-called chemistry played on repeat.
I told myself it didn’t matter. I just had to survive two days in New York without letting him get under my skin. I refused to wonder what his mouth would feel like if he ever stopped smirking long enough to kiss me.