Page 28 of Remembering Passion

“Johnathon will take you back to Mr. Sinclair.”

“Johnathon?”

“Mr. Sinclair’s assistant.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“Ms. Crystal,” Johnathon said as he opened the door. “Welcome.” The long hallway before us led to another set of glass doors. I wondered if my destination would be Damien’s office or if he would park me in a conference room.

“How long have you worked for Mr. Sinclair?” I asked.

“It will soon be a year.” He lowered his voice. “I heard you once had this position.”

“He told you?”

Johnathon shook his head, his cheeks growing pink. “No.”

“Oh,” I said softly. “I’m a rumor.”

“A good rumor. It sounds like people were sad when you left.”

I couldn’t think about that. It had been self-preservation.

Through the glass doors, Johnathon led me to Damien’s office and opened the door. “Mr. Sinclair. Ms. Crystal.”

I stepped into the doorway as Damien stood from behind his desk. Was it too much to ask for him to have contracted some flesh-eating bacteria in the last thirty hours? Maybe something that destroyed his handsome features, his thick hair, high cheekbones, firm lips.

Shit no.

He was as good-looking as he’d been Saturday night. The difference was that now he was clothed.

I wasn’t thinking about that.

Is he?

Damien’s gaze lingered on me for too long. The ensuing silence hung heavily in the air. Despite my scowl, Damien’s smile was at full wattage, and his blue eyes shone with the arrogance of a man who snapped his fingers and made others jump.

“Okay,” Johnathon said, a bit uncomfortably. “I’m going to…” He leaned away. “If you need me…”

Neither one of us spoke.

The door behind me closed.

Taking a step toward Damien, I kept my volume low but my tone strong. “Bastard.”

His cheeks rose. “Technically, no. My father is known. He and Mom are living it up in the Villages. There’s something about pineapples, but I don’t want to think about it.”

I shook my head. “Why?”

“They’re my parents and well, you know?”

I exhaled. “I don’t care about your parents. Why am I here?”

“That’s a shame. They always liked you.”

My frustration was getting the better of me. “I don’t not care about them.” I exhaled. “Answer my question. Why I’m here where I don’t want to be?”

Damien came around his desk and gestured toward the conference table. “Shall we sit?”

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