Page 4 of Suddenly Desired
There are a lot of haters out there, David had warned him.
And he’d walked into the first one within two minutes of leaving the boardroom.
Just hours ago people would have been clamouring to shake his hand, snapping selfies for Heartbook clout. Blake Fielding, the golden boy of the city, the guy with the Midas touch. He’d always had a knack for connecting with people, a gift passed down from his mum — the warm, friendly eyes, the quick, disarming smile, the easy charisma had always felt effortless. It was one of the reasons he’d got so far in business, because people seemed to instantly trust him.
Now? His name was dirt. His reputation scorched earth. The thought of it made his blood boil.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to step back. No point making things worse. “Sorry for bumping into you,” he said, giving the woman a quick nod.
She was fumbling with her bag, her hands shaking as she wrestled with a catch that clearly wasn’t cooperating. She must have sensed him looking because she glanced up again, a nervous smile on her face. He’d guess that she was a little younger than him, but she looked younger still because of the flush of colour on her cheeks, her thick-rimmed black glasses, and the way her sunshine-yellow hair was haphazardly tied back. He squinted at it, realising that there was a pencil slotted through her blonde bun. She tapped her head, his awkward stare probably reminding her it was there, her face burning even brighter and matching the scatter of pink hearts printed across her dress. Hearts wearing glasses, no less.
She was really, bloody stunning. The kind of stunning that made a man forget his own name.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to . . . It’s just I was sitting in the — I mean, I only just heard the news. Sorry.”
Could this conversation get any more awkward?Blake thought, as he fiddled with the knot of his tie.
Blake Fielding had never struggled to talk to women. In business, in social circles, even in relationships, he’d always been confident — charming, even. But this woman was different, his usual easy confidence evaporated, replaced by something he didn’t recognise. The normally smooth, articulate CEO found himself blundering. It was completely and utterly embarrassing — and worse, he had no idea how to stop it.
“Don’t apologise,” he blurted out, eventually. “Please, I should have been watching where I was going too. It’s been a . . . a tough morning.”
The woman had sorted her bag and was clutching it to her chest like it was stuffed with her life savings. She used her free hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, still grinning nervously.
“I should go.” She nodded towards the car park and started to edge around him. “Sorry again.”
She’d just started to walk away when he called out after her, the words exploding from his mouth before he knew they were coming. “I didn’t say those things.”
She froze mid-step and turned, blinking at him like he was speaking a different language. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The things on my Heartbook page,” he said, quickly. “I didn’t say them. I’d never . . .” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as his voice cracked. “I would never say that stuff. Not about women. Not aboutanyone.” He didn’t know why he was trying so hard to defend himself to this woman he had just met. Except in his head she somehow represented everyone in thecompany, everyone in the country, everyone in the world who had heard the news and made up their mind about him. “I was hacked. I can’t prove it yet, but I will.”
“Sure, of course,” the woman said, but she didn’t look convinced.
She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, hesitating, as if she wasn’t sure whether to stay or walk away. Her gaze stayed on him for a beat longer than expected and Blake felt a bead of sweat gather at his temple.
“Well then,” she said after a moment, her tone carefully neutral, “I guess this is goodbye. Good luck with . . . everything.”
She offered him a tight smile. The kind that could say anything from“I don’t really believe you”to “You’re definitely a woman-hating monster”.Then she started to walk away again.
“No, wait,” he called. “I just . . . Look, I know you don’t really know me, but I’m not that guy. I swear.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, a strand of blonde hair tickling it where it had fallen from the pencil-clad topknot, but her expression had softened.
“Okay,” she said, elongating the second syllable. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m just some random woman who almost walked into you . . .”
“Technically, you did make contact,” Blake smiled. “And you’re . . . you know?”Cute, approachable, seem to have a good moral compass.“You’re, um, someone.”
“Well, that clears that up.” She tilted her head at him, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.
Blake didn’t blame her. He had no idea what was happening to him. He blamed the shock of what had happened in the boardroom. That was it, he was in shock. it was the sole reason he wasn’t able to form a decent sentence. A decent sentence that this captivating woman seemed to still be waiting for. She hadn’trun away. That was a good sign. Blake gathered together some semblance of calm and spoke slowly.
“I’m not going to offload my problems on you, don’t worry. But it’s hard when people think you’re something that you’re not.” Blake cringed at how desperate he sounded. “Especially when that something is a misogynistic idiot. Why can’t they have mistaken me for a conscientious gigolo or something? Will never have a work-life balance, but at least I can twerk it for money when it counts.”
Shut up, Blake, right now.
The woman nodded slowly, the grip on her bag tightening.
“I guess,” she said, her forehead pinched.
