Chapter Seven
EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO
The thing nobody warns you about working in the legal department of a hotel is the laminator.
I've been here six months, and I've already laminated, by my own count, ninety-three documents that technically didn't need to be laminated, and it's all thanks to Mr. Coates.
If you laminate it, you commit to it.
He heads our legal department, and because of that personal philosophy of his, we've been laminating everything, from vendor contracts down to grocery lists. It's tiring work at times, but honestly?
I enjoy every second of it because I love my job.
I didn't expect to, honestly. I accepted it at first because I simply needed a steady paycheck and an environment where nobody asked me about my weekend.
And working in a busy hotel like this? It's the exact opposite since we're all about what our guests want, and we know we're doing a good job when we blend with the wallpaper.
When I get back to my desk, laminating duties done, my phone is buzzing, and it's Mr. Coates again.
“Please be at Conference Room 3 at ten. Bring two copies of the standard NDA, the event-night liquor liability form, and the photographer release. We're meeting with a Mr. Simons regarding a private function next month.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And bring your notepad. He's a thorough one.”
“Understood, sir.”
And that's it.
I simply do as asked, preparing the copies my boss asked for, making sure I have my notepad with me, and then doing a last-minute check of my appearance.
Looking professional is the key, not attractive.
But when I get to the conference room, and I see who's inside?
You're an idiot, Juniper Lake. You should've cared more about being attractive!
He's seated at the long table with his back half-turned to the door, in a suit that's the color of ink.
He doesn't look up when I come in, and I'm glad.
I still need time to figure out what to think, what to do, and if possible, how to look a little bit more attractive in the next fifty seconds or so.
..since the woman beside him, with her hand on his arm, is drop. ..dead...gorgeous.
Long blond hair, lashes that are even longer, and legs that look just about endless. She's talking to him and he's nodding, and then she's laughing like he's answered her, but I'm not quite sure he did? Or maybe she's telepathic. It's possible, right?
He finally looks up, and...it's exactly as I feared.
It is him.
Mr. Cemetery.
And the thought has me grabbing the back of my chair because I feel like my knees are about to give out at any moment.
What was the name on the forms Mr. Coates asked me to print earlier?
Nate.
Nate Simons.
The name didn't mean anything to me then, but now it means everything.
When our gazes meet, he doesn't give anything away. And I know this will sound stupid, but I'll stake my life on this. He recognizes me. He knows me. The way I know him and couldn't stop thinking about him since that day at the cemetery.
But Nate, though...
Mr. Coates comes in, briefcase under his arm, and apologizing for being two minutes late.
Nate looks away like I'm simply something to be dismissed and introduces my boss to his date. Francine. That's his girlfriend's name. Francine. But as much as it hurts to think of her name, what almost kills me is what he does.
It's how he looks away from me so easily, and I think it's also that part which shoves me back to reality.
How he dismisses me like I'm nothing while here I am, forcing myself to look away.
Walk away. And just do everything away from him because I've just become the silliest person, being affected by a stranger who clearly doesn't give a whit about me.
I sit in my usual corner. This is my safe place. A part where I can blend in the background, put my head down, and just work. But now...it's different. The next sixty-seven minutes—every second of it is different.
It used to be easy for me to take notes.
But now, I'm barely managing, and I know it isn't simply because this is the most thorough event-night privacy NDA that Mr. Coates has ever drafted.
The party's supposed to celebrate record-earnings of Simons Holdings, LLC.
But the way we're, well, securing everything, it's as if the event has the POTUS as its secret guest of honor.
You can do this, June.
Even if my hand tightens uncontrollably around my pen whenever I hear her laugh...
And I end up swallowing hard every time he addresses the other woman by name...
Even if my heart starts breaking whenever I see, in the corner of my eye, the other woman nudging his foot with her foot under the table—
You can do this, June.
And it's true.
I actually did it.
Despite finding myself furiously blinking back tears at the way she keeps pawing at him, and Nate never removing his arm even though he hasn't really touched her back, not even once—
The meeting ends without me doing stupid.
And to be honest, the only thing that stopped me from doing anything stupid wasn't me giving a pep talk to myself.
It's the opposite, actually. Sadly and painfully so.
To keep myself from doing anything stupid, I had this one thought in my mind that I repeated like a chant:
He's not mine. Never was. And never going to be.
My boss stands up and so do I. I watch them shake hands, I listen to Mr. Coates profusely thanking Nate for choosing us and complimenting Francine just as profusely for being so beautiful. And because Mr. Coates is a sales agent at heart, he even manages to drop a one-liner at the end:
Please also keep us in mind when wedding bells start ringing.
I watch them walk toward the door, and I know I'm being silly and foolish again, but a part of me is just crying out silently—
Look back.
Look at me.
Please!
But he doesn't.
I watch them leave. Francine still by his side. And not one of them looks back. Because in their world, I'm just the paralegal.
But in my world, though...
Don't do anything stupid. Don't. Please don't.
I hear Francine talking to him.
“I'll meet you at the car, darling.”
That means I was right about him. Them. Wasn't I?
They're dating. And that's why he can look away from me like I'm nothing. Because in their world, I'm just the paralegal.
So please just let it go.
Forget him.
And just accept that all your dreams of him are just—
I take one shaky step forward.
My notepad falls to the floor.
And then I'm running after him, which means...
Yes, I'm acting silly and foolish, no, I can't just let it go, and so yes, I'm going to run after him, and okay, okay, think, think, Juniper!
They've taken the elevator, they're going down the basement, so okay, that means I'm going to take the staff stairwell, and I'm running as fast as I can, almost falling flat on my face several times, and all the while telling myself that I'm not going to think, I'm just going to feel and go with my guts because the man I've been. ..
The man I only spoke to for a few minutes...
The man I couldn't forget for the past six months...
That man who had me kicking myself in the head every time I remember how I didn't say or do a thing as I watched him walk away—
I don't care if I'm being silly or stupid. I don't care if this is right or wrong. And I don't care—well, okay, I kinda sorta slightly care that he's with a woman so beautiful she makes me feel I'm less than human.
Yes, I care about that.
But not enough to stop me—
Oh, finally.
I burst into the parking garage corridor just as the guest elevator chimes, the doors open, and we come face to face. Again.
His jaw clenches as our gazes meet, and I tell myself that's a good thing even as my heart flinches because it believes otherwise.
You have to be really flexible in situations like this.
Sometimes, you let your heart rule. Other times, you let your brain take over.
To deceive yourself into still thinking this. ..
This is okay even though the way his lips tighten tells me that a part of him had expected this.
Braced for it even.
And that same part of him had nonetheless hoped it wouldn't be so.
Oh, the gall of him.
I should be pissed and offended, with how he's treating another encounter with me like it's a virus to be avoided. But I can't muster the energy to feel upset because what's killing me even more is how I'm still choosing to be foolish.
Because I'm still blocking their path, my heel in one hand, hair in sweaty disarray, while every composed piece of me has been unassembled in the last five flights of stairs.
I open my mouth, but he deliberately beats me to speaking.
“Sara, isn't it?”
Is he trying to intimidate me? Infuriate me? Shame me?
His beautiful Francine, on the other hand...
She has no trouble feeling infuriated as she looks at me. “You know this girl?”
Nate doesn't even look at her. “Please go ahead and wait in the car for me.”
“I can wait—”
Big mistake.
No one actually says this, but we can all see the invisible writing on the wall, the moment his gaze slides to her direction, and the words die in her throat.
I have no idea how freaky their relationship is, but it's clearly the kind where Nate does the ordering, Francine does the bidding, and that's why all she can do now is shoot me a vicious look before stalking off like a bully that's been shamed by a bigger bully.
Not that I'm saying either or both of them are bullies. I'm not. It just...it just looks that way, and oh no, here we go, he's turning to look at me now, and he's still beautiful like I remembered, but so much more terrifying than I remembered.
We stare at each other, and I think...I think he's giving me a chance to forget that this happened. To just turn my back and walk away, and he'll do the same. But instead—
“My name's Juniper.”
I'm still choosing to be silly and foolish.
“Is it?” His voice has changed, the words drawled out lazily this time. Softly and mockingly, too. “Does that make you Sara Juniper then or—”
“It's neither and you know it.”
I'm not going to play this game with him.
And so when he simply looks at me—
“Why did you walk out on me that day?”
I still don't back down. I've already gotten this far. The only way not to lose is to see this to the very end, no matter how terribly awkward and painful the truth—
“Because I was dating another woman then.”
My heart starts breaking into pieces again, and I'm starting to wonder how long this can last. How long before my heart runs out of pieces, and I just end up dead?
Why am I still standing here? He'd just admitted it. The cemetery walk-away wasn't about me. It was about her.
“Is it Francine?” I don't know why I'm even asking.
“Does it matter?” And he clearly doesn't get it either.
“Why won't you just answer—”
“It's not her.”
Oh.
“And I ended things between us that same day.”
OH.
My eyes widen...at the same time he stiffens...because we're thinking the same thing.
“Don't—”
That's him probably about to tell me not to read anything into what he's just admitted, and that's why I cut him off—
“Why are you walking out on me again?”
“Because it's better this way,” he grates out.
Right. Sure. Does he really think I'm that stupid?
“You don't have to lie...”
Those first words come out jerkily, but the moment I start speaking, it's like having something take over me, and the rest of the words come tumbling out in a rush.
“If you've...if you've lost interest since then, then just say it.
There's no need to feel bad. I may not be the prettiest girl in the world, but I can.
..I can find another guy, and you know what?
I promise you I'll find a guy within the day, so don't feel bad, okay? Don't feel guilty about me again.”
What in the world did I just say?
I walk past him as reality starts sinking in, and I feel like sinking into oblivion myself. I can't believe I just said that. Like, seriously, what in the world was I thinking?
I step inside the elevator and slam my hand on the Close button. I don't care which floor I'm whisked to. I just want to go and forget—
Ah!
Fingers curl around my wrist, spinning me around as the doors close, and next thing I know I'm staring up into angry dark eyes as the elevator begins its ascent.
“Are you trying to make me jealous?” he snarls.
“E-Excuse me?”
“You're going to find another man, are you?”
Oh, this man...and his...his gall!
“Yes,” I snarl back. “I'm absolutely going to—”
Not say another word.
Because Nate has kissed me into silence, just kissing me so, so hard that the moment he does, the moment he fiercely takes possession of my mouth—
It's the beginning of the end.
“Damn you.”
He grits the words out against my lips even as he hauls me even closer. I try weakly to pull away, but he's kissing me again, harder than ever, rougher than ever, and no no no—
The moment he takes a deep, deep taste of my mouth, I can only whimper in surrender, my arms going around his neck, the rest of my body melting against his.
When he lifts his head, I'm dazed and helpless, and he's looking at me with harsh intensity, his breathing rough.
“I didn't want it to be this way, Juniper.”
W-What way?
“But now it's too late to change anything.”
He grabs a fistful of my hair.
“You're mine, and you'll stay mine. Always.”
And then he's kissing me again and again and again.