19. Darby
Darby
The drive to work feels different today. Lighter.
I drum my fingers against the steering wheel as I wait at a red light, my mind drifting to Selene for the umpteenth time.
We spent five days together, working late nights, bouncing ideas off each other, falling into something that felt real.
Plus, we crossed a line we both obviously wanted to cross, and it was amazing.
Added to our conversation on the jet, this trip has changed a lot between us.
The past no longer feels like a weight on my shoulders.
It feels like something we can finally move beyond.
Yes, she acted a little off when we landed, but I guess she was tired. I hope. I pray.
Through the weekend, all I did was think of her. I thought of her laugh and the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watching. And I realized that I never stopped loving her. And I hope she feels the same.
By the time I pull into the parking lot of Three Stones Ad Group, my decision is made. I won’t waste time wondering. I’ll show her. I’ll remind her we don’t have to be stuck in the past.
I step out of my car, straightening my suit jacket, and walk into the building. The lobby is alive with the morning rush. Employees move quickly, some clutching coffee cups, others engaged in quiet conversations or pretending to, just to avoid my gaze. But I don’t see or care about any of them.
I only see her.
Selene stands near the receptionist’s desk, her hands clasped in front of her. She looks put together, as always. A fitted black dress, modest and classic. Her hair cascades over one shoulder in loose waves, and her hazel-green eyes meet mine when she notices me approaching.
She smiles. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Something is wrong.
I slow my steps, studying her face. There’s a distance in her expression, a shift in her energy. I know Selene like the back of my hand. I remember her complaining several times in college that she hated how well I could read her.
“Morning,” she says smoothly, confirming my suspicion. She’s putting up a front.
I nod, keeping my tone casual as I study her face. She doesn’t meet my eyes. “Morning. Ready to get back to work?”
“Of course.” She gestures toward the elevators, and we step inside.
The ride up to my office is quiet, too quiet. She keeps her gaze on the doors and her posture stiff. I don’t push. Not yet, and not here.
Inside my office, we settle in. She places her laptop on the desk, and her fingers move swiftly across the keyboard.
I sit across from her, watching every movement she makes.
After a while, she shifts forward and turns her laptop slightly towards me as she pulls up the latest version of the article.
“We need to refine the introduction,” she says, her voice all business while she points to the top of the screen.
“It needs to set the tone for the public. They need to see you as more than just a corporate figure with a scandal. They need to see a leader who actively contributes to the community. And cares about it.”
I nod. “Although I thought our former introduction did just that, I’d like to hear your new suggestion.”
She scrolls through her notes. “We open with what the community center initiative means to you. And then we can talk about the impact of your involvement.”
I watch her, fascinated by how easily she develops these ideas. “As opposed to starting with the company’s vision, we start with mine. Tell the world that the project is personal to me, too.”
She nods. “Exactly. Then, we transition into the broader strategy—how the company is evolving beyond traditional advertising. Partnering with non-profits, integrating more social responsibility into your brand. It shifts the focus away from the scandal and toward a vision for the future.”
She speaks with so much confidence it feels like she belongs on the podium at the UN and not here. She’s thought through every angle, every possible response from the public.
I lean back in my chair, watching her as she types. “You’re good at this.”
She glances up, a small, tight smile forming. “It’s my job,” she says and keeps typing away.
That smile doesn’t sit right with me, and she barely even held my gaze. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m so bothered that I’m slowly beginning to worry.
I fold my arms across my chest and take a deep breath. “Selene. Are you okay?”
She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even look up from her laptop. “I’m fine.”
I study her for a moment longer, then decide to push.
Back then, I won’t lie and say I didn’t notice that something was up with her.
A few weeks before she disappeared, something felt off with her.
She would zone off during conversations and give me tight smiles whenever I asked what was wrong.
I didn’t push. I wanted to give her space. But that didn’t end well.
I want to do better this time.
“Selene, if this is about what happened on the business trip—”
She exhales sharply, shaking her head. She looks up, and she has an annoyed frown on her face. “Darby, it’s better if we concentrate on work. What happened on the business trip should stay on the business trip.”
My jaw tightens. “That’s what you want?”
She nods; her expression unreadable. “It’s what’s best.”
I hold her gaze for a long moment, searching for something-anything- that tells me she doesn’t mean it. But she doesn’t break. I nod once, keeping my voice even. “Okay.”
I think her attitude will pass in a few days.
It doesn’t.
For a whole week, she keeps her distance, and every day, it feels like a new wall is built between us.
Our conversations, if we have any at all, are strictly professional.
During the meetings, once she makes her suggestion on the article, she doesn’t say anything else.
She just types away on her laptop and leaves the office as soon as the meeting is over.
No lingering glances. No small talk. No warmth.
And it pisses me off.
Because I know she feels something. I saw it in her eyes when we were tangled up together on that business trip. I felt it in how she kissed me, like she needed me as much as I needed her.
But she’s pushing me away like she did back then.
And as the days pass, my anger continues to grow.
I can’t help it because it feels like the past all over again, and I find myself struggling between the need to hold on to her and the need to hold on to my pride and let her do whatever the hell she wants.
Before I know it, we’re in the final meeting. The one that involves not just both of us but my brothers, too.
Aden and Garrett sit across from us in the conference room, flipping through the article's printed draft.
The room remains silent as they read, and the tension grows, but Selene is composed, her posture straight, her hands neatly folded on the table.
When they are done reading, Aden looks up with a blank expression.
“Would you mind presenting your strategy behind the article to us, Miss Selene?”
“Of course,” she says with a small smile.
She clears her throat and begins. “This article is designed to shift the public’s perception.
It presents Three Stones not as a company scrambling for damage control but as an organization with a strong foundation in community engagement.
The initiatives highlighted in the article show long-term investment, not temporary fixes. ”
Garrett leans back in his chair, nodding slightly. “And you think that’s enough to change the conversation?”
Selene meets his gaze without hesitation.
“Yes. People don’t trust corporations that only react when there’s a scandal.
They trust companies that show consistent, meaningful change.
This article doesn’t just address the controversy—it reframes the entire narrative of Three Stones as a forward-thinking, socially responsible brand. ”
Aden taps his pen against the table. “How do we ensure people see it that way?”
Selene doesn’t flinch. “First of all, we have real stories engraved into the article to show its impact on real people. Secondly, we can use strategic placement. We target digital platforms that reach industry leaders, investors, and socially conscious consumers. We collaborate with smaller media outlets that focus on ethical business practices. We get real people—those benefiting from these initiatives—to share their stories, so the impact feels personal rather than scripted.”
I can’t stop looking at her. She’s brilliant, and it’s almost as if I’m falling deeper in love with her. I want the air between us to be cleared as fast as possible because I want her.
Garrett and Aden exchange glances before Garrett finally nods. “You’ve thought this through.”
“I have,” Selene says, her tone steady.
Aden leans back in his chair. He has a small smile on his face, and he nods. “It’s solid. We’ll start making arrangements to run with it.”
Garrett closes the folder. “I’m convinced we have a winning article right now. You will receive full payment once we confirm the strategic placements. You’ve done a great job, Selene.”
She nods, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”
The meeting wraps up, and my brothers start packing their things. But I don’t move. I watch Selene gather her things, but she still won’t look at me.
She just walks out of the room. I push back my chair and stand. My body moves before my mind catches up. She’s already pressing the button when I reach the elevator. Her shoulders are tense, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag too tightly.
“Selene,” I say, stepping beside her.
She exhales but doesn’t look at me. “Darby.”
The doors slide open, and we step inside. The air between us is thick and heavy. I shove my hands into my pockets, waiting for the silence to break and hoping no one else gets into the elevator with us.
When the doors close, I turn to her. “I know you’re probably tired of hearing me ask, but are you okay?”
She nods. She even manages to smile. “I’m fine. I’m a little tired because of all the work this article required, but I’m honestly fine.”
I study her, watching how she keeps her posture stiff, her gaze straight ahead.
She’s lying, and right now, I don’t know if pushing is a good idea.
What if I push too hard? I clear my throat.
“Well, I just wanted to thank you. You did a hell of a job. The article, the presentation—it was all solid.”
She glances at me then. “Thank you, Darby.”
I hesitate, then take a breath. “I was thinking—maybe we should go to di-”
“Now that our deal is done, I guess you won’t have to see my face again,” she says and laughs.
I blink. Was that supposed to be a joke?
She presses the elevator button again, even though we’re already moving. The silence stretches. Then I laugh, too. It’s awkward and forced, but I need to cover the sting. “Right. Yeah. Guess not.”
The elevator dings. The doors open. She steps out first, walking quickly away from me. I watch her leave.
Back in my office, I sink into my chair, rubbing my temples.
I don’t get it.
She pulled away from me the moment we got back. Acting like the business trip meant nothing. She kept things strictly professional, no matter how often our eyes met and our hands brushed. And now, she’s cutting ties altogether.
I replay our last night together. None of that was fake. I know her well enough to tell. So, what the hell changed?
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. Aden steps inside, closing the door behind him, but he doesn’t sit. He just stands there, arms crossed, watching me like he already knows what’s on my mind.
I lean back in my chair. “Something on your mind?”
He exhales through his nose, stepping closer. “Yeah. I saw the way you were looking at Selene during the meeting. Then I remembered how adamantly you were against her writing the article, and the numbers finally added up.”
I tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Aden says, lowering his voice, “that I now know without a doubt that you and she have a history. Intimate history.”
“So?”
“So, I’m here to remind you why this is important.”
I roll my eyes, running a hand through my hair. “Jesus, Aden. I’m not a kid.”
“No,” he says sharply. “You’re not. Which is why I shouldn’t have to spell this out for you.”
I glare at him, but he keeps going.
“I know you, Darby. I know that look. And I know exactly where this is headed.” He steps closer, his voice steady but firm. “I don’t care what happened between you two before. But I do care about what happens now.”
I push back in my chair. “Aden, this isn’t your business.”
“The hell it isn’t,” he snaps. “For this article to work—to actually fix the company’s image—it can’t be written by a woman you’re sleeping with. The public will see the article as biased because the writer has feelings for you.”
I look away, my jaw tightening. I’m still finding it hard to get used to my brother’s sudden active involvement in the company’s administration. But I know I have myself to blame for that. “Nothing’s happening,” I say softly.
He scoffs. “Right. And I’m a goddamn monk.”
Silence settles between us. He exhales, rolling his shoulders back. The tension in the room eases slightly. “This company’s already been through enough recently. Because of you,” he says, his tone softer now. “You’ve worked too hard to fix things. Don’t screw it up over a woman.”
I clench my jaw. “She’s not just a woman.”
Aden studies me. Then sighs. “And that’s the problem. Isn’t it?”
He turns and walks out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I lean forward, pressing my elbows against my desk. The weight of his words sits heavy on my chest. I know he’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier.