Page 11 of Embrace Me Forever

Yet our handshake extends beyond a mere formality, and I detect a rough texture, like scars etched across his palm. Before my thoughts spiral into speculation, his courteous smile hintsthat it’s me who’s lingering. Reluctantly, I realize it might be time to let go.

A flutter stirs in my chest as I take him in. There’s something about him that recalls a younger Richard Gere, yet this man is a complete knockout. He’s impeccably dressed in a suit that screams bespoke tailoring. I’ve encountered plenty of men in suits, particularly in the soul-sucking world of insurance, but this isn’t just any suit—this is a whole new level of sophistication.

Who is he? And why does his presence make me feel like I’m turning into my sister, having her ‘book boyfriend’ moment whenever she starts a new romance novel? This is a complication I never anticipated in my rehearsals and planning.

“I’ll be taking you to meet the Mr. Hartleys—Rob and Clayton. They thought it would be better if we met here instead of you taking a cab.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He moves with the kind of grace that screams ‘born leader.’ What does it take to be a billionaire’s chauffeur? A degree from Harvard Kennedy School? I can’t help but think this man could easily outshine his bosses.

My heartbeat fumbles, noting the absence of a wedding ring.Shit!My eyes might be too sharp for my own good. He’s not a member of the Hartley board—the club Anne hoped might offer romantic prospects—but I have to remind myself that fantasizing about anything akin toamoreis off-limits right now.

“Do you have any luggage?” Blake asks, looking around as if expecting to see a suitcase.

“No, I travel light,” I reply. “I have to fly back this evening.”

He keeps his expression professional, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Must be a quick trip, then.”

“Yes, just here for the meeting,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

We fall into an easy conversation as we head to the car. Blake asks about my flight, and I find myself relaxing a bit more with each step despite my new stilettos seeming to have a mind of their own. “The flight was smooth, no turbulence,” I say. “So, how’s the weather been here in L.A.?” I cringe internally at the cliché question, but my brain seems to have hit a speed bump.

“Sunny as always,” he replies with a smile as if forgiving me for staying in the shallow lane. “Probably a bit warmer than Denver, I imagine.”

“Definitely warmer. It’s a nice change of pace, though.”

As we reach the sleek black Mercedes parked at the curb, Blake opens the rear door for me. “Please,” he says. His courteousness warms my heart, a stark contrast to the rushed and often indifferent interactions I’m used to.

It’s been ages since I last wore formal attire, and this morning, under the low ceiling of my modern-day chariot, I find myself performing an acrobatic feat. Blake’s presence compels me to maintain my grace as I attempt to settle into the plush leather seat. The borrowed suit clings like a second skin, threatening to tear with each movement. I inch my way further, painfully aware of the skirt straining over my thighs, and just as I think I’ve got it all figured out, the tip of my heel gets caught in the doorsill.

Blake extends his hand. Gripping it as if my life depends on it, I lift my legs, shifting my ass as elegantly as I can manage.

“Thank you.” I compose myself as he politely makes sure I’m okay, then shuts the door.

As he walks around to the driver’s side, I draw a deep breath. I’m savoring this brief distraction from the relentless drill sergeant in my mind, constantly reminding me of the looming presentation.Failure isn’t an option…failure isn’t an option.

Blake slides behind the wheel, leaving me captivated by the back of his head, covered in thick, wavy, pepper hair with a light sprinkle of salt. Through the mirror, he checks in. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, meeting his gaze. For a moment, I catch a flicker of something in his eyes, albeit through the reflection in the mirror. It’s more than curiosity, but it’s gone as swiftly as it came. He’s all professionalism again, but I can’t help sensing that ‘the journey is just as important as the destination’ could be more than a bumper sticker philosophy this time.

As we drive, he continues to engage me. “So, what do you do to pass the time on flights? Work, read, sleep?”

“A bit of everything,” I say, a sense of ease beginning to settle. “I tried to work, but I was too nervous, so I ended up staring out the window.”

“Nervous, huh? Big meeting?”

“It’s more than just a meeting, Mr. Blake. This proposal is do-or-die for me,” I admit. Wait, am I really starting to open up to him? I need to watch myself.

He nods thoughtfully. “I can imagine. Well, both Mr. Hartleys are good guys. Just be yourself, and you’ll do just fine.”

I’ve gone over today a hundred times. Yet, I know my limitations. What if they see through my facade? What if they find flaws in my proposal that I can’t recover from?

If push comes to shove, perhaps I’ll lay my cards on the table and reveal my true intentions. They might still be willing to listen. If my research—and intuition—are correct, Hartley Marine is a unique company that genuinely cares for its employees. Despite my aversion to the word ‘insurance,’ I was impressed to discover that full insurance coverage is a standard benefit at Hartley. Moreover, they provide a range of family-friendly facilities, including a childcare center and even a mini-golf course!

Then again, I’m not going to let desperation define this meeting. I’m not their charity. Coco’s life hinges on this, but I can’t let that cloud my presentation. They need to see the value of my work, not the panic in my eyes.

A smile sneaks onto my face, fueled by the giddy thrill of my handsome driver. “Thanks, Mr. Blake. I needed that.”

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