Page 2 of Point of Contention
Everything that led me to this moment with my name blasted across newspapers and websites, my career over before it started, and my heart on the line.
But I’d just been so caught up in Cabot, so consumed. I hadn’t made a sound decision since they day I nearly stumbled into his arms. It felt like I’d been sucked into a void. Cabot Reed’s presence eclipsed all else.
But I couldn’t explain that to Professor Clements; he’d never understand. I barely understood it all myself.
I glanced up and watched Cabot through the glass that surrounded the conference room. He was completely undone by his father’s announcement, a man whose back was against the wall. His current demeanor served as a stark reminder that there was a Cabot Reed even scarier than the one I loved.
Did I want to be involved with a man whose father was this terrifying?
Eh…
I flicked my gaze to the opposite end of the meeting room. His father sat at the head of the conference table, still the king of his kingdom, a lesson in composure as he watched his son rant and rave. Stoic and unreadable, right now the elder Cabot Reed was everythingmyCabot Reed was not.
My eyes narrowed as I watched the exchange, my hackles rising defensively as his father laughed mockingly at something Cabot said. What could possibly be funny about any of this? Our lives had been completely turned upside down. I failed to see even an ounce of humor. Cabot’s voice was lower now, so I could intone the cadence of it but not the words. He paused and his father bared his teeth. Not quite a smile. Something else. A warning.
The longer I watched this exchange between father and son, the more I felt myself retreating, but I couldn’t find the strength to actually move.
Marriage? Yeah right. What woman in her right mind would marry into this? Wouldchoosethat man for a father-in-law? My stomach twisted at the thought.
No, I didn’t want to know Cabot’s father any more than I wanted to know my own. I’d left the cruel man who raised me and landed myself right into a den of men who ate people like my father for breakfast.
And what was the end goal? Why had he blindsided us so publicly… with something so completely unrealistic?
The elevator dinged and I pulled my attention away from the conference room as the doors opened and Travis Wilder stepped out. The Chief Financial Officer of Reed Enterprises was someone Cabot cared for quite deeply. I’d met him briefly at the beginning of my internship and seen him only a handful of times in passing over the past four weeks, but we really hadn’t interacted much. For one, I was here to learn about the publishing division specifically and he represented the financial side of Reed Enterprises in its entirety. And secondly, I had blinders on.
All I could see was CabotfreakingReed.
Mr. Wilder’s sea grass gaze met mine almost immediately and he turned toward me, flicking a quick glance at the conference room on his way to the lobby chairs.
He sat down beside me and sighed. “Ms. Blake.” He extended his hand and I went to shake it, then wiped my palm on my slacks first, just in case. His brow furrowed, but he shook my hand without commenting on the dampness.
“You can call me Rylan.”
He nodded. “You can call me Travis.”
Close to Cabot in age, that was where the similarities between the two men stopped. Travis was handsome like Cabot, though opposite in coloring and not nearly as intimidating. Where Cabot was dark and intense, the planes of his face sharp and his deep blue eyes as dark as the ocean during a storm—and just as tumultuous—Travis was lighter on all accounts. Softer. He had dirty-blond hair that was cut neatly around his ears and neck, but longer and wavy on top, and a close-cut beard a shade darker than the hair on his head. His eyes were pale green and intelligent, bright as they searched mine.
The patient observer.
He gave off an air of composure, but not in that practiced way Cabot had mastered. Cabot’s composure hid a power that hummed just beneath the surface, like cable encasing electrified wires. Travis’ relaxed state seemed natural, as if troubles just rolled off his back like water off a duck. Even though he was likely just as floored by that press conference and its tornado of a finale as we were, he appeared at ease. And his presence gave me a sense of peace.
Or maybe that was just the relief that came with no longer being alone while two Reed men went head-to-head just a few yards away from me. The entire seventy-fifth floor had cleared out as soon as they sequestered themselves into that conference room, leaving me to sit here like a trembling rabbit.
But Travis’ presence felt a little bit like a buffer.
Tearing his gaze away from the conference room, Travis looked at me again. “How are you doing after… after whatever the hell just happened downstairs?”
A noise that wasn’t quite a whimper but not quite a laugh slipped past my lips and he grimaced.
“It’s going to be fine,” he lied. “Cabot will figure it out.”
I offered him a tight-lipped smile, but I’m sure doubt was written all over my face.
“You obviously can’t get married.” He laughed and something inside my chest tightened. Again,noneof this was humorous. It didn’t even feel like one of those‘someday we’ll laugh about this’scenarios.
The next time someone laughed, I’d give them a piece of my mind.
He turned his attention toward the conference room, then back to me. “Do you…” He shook his head and gave a subtle shrug. “Do you need anything?”
