Page 66 of Say You Remember Me
Mattered to a man who had the entire world at his feet—a man who could have anyone he wanted. But in that moment, on the couch in Ian’s hotel suite, he hadn’t wanted just anyone. He’d wantedme.
A flutter of nerves stirred in my stomach as I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Was it possible that I’d totally interpreted everything wrong and was seeing things the way Iwanted to? Yes, it definitely was since wehadstarted that kiss under the pretense of it being practice for the fake engagement we were pretending to be in.
But I don’t know…with the way he’d looked at me—his eyes burning with something that mirrored the ache in my chest.
With how he’d been so genuine and present and had really seemed to get as lost in the moment as I had…it just felt too real to be part of some act.
But if I was wrong…if it was all fake and I was fooling myself into believing Ian Hastings—one of the most powerful, sought-after men I’d ever met—could actually want someone like me…then he deserved an award. Honestly, give the man his Oscar.
But yeah…here’s to hoping most of the acting talent had gone to his brother Nash, theactualactor, and not Ian.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me from my thoughts.
Ian: Going to run through my presentation one more time this morning. Want to head down together around nine to meet Kacie and Brock?
I smiled, my heart giving an annoyingly giddy flutter. Kacie and Brock must’ve arrived in Boston last night to prep for filming Ian’s presentation. The video would go on his YouTube channel later, showcasing his polished, confident self—the version of him the world saw.
I typed back a quick reply.
Me: Just woke up, but I’ll be ready by then.
His response came almost immediately.
Ian: Perfect. I left my adjoining door unlocked. Come in when you’re ready.
I stared at the message a second longer than necessary, my mind catching on one very specific detail.
Had he left the door unlocked all night?
The thought lingered, tempting and dangerous. Could I have opened my door at any moment, stepped into his room, and…?
I shut that train of thought down fast.No, Maddie. You absolutelyshould notbe thinking about sneaking into Ian’s room in the middle of the night. That would be wildly unprofessional.
Though, considering I’d been making out with my boss less than twelve hours ago, maybe “professional” had already gone out the window.
Shaking my head, I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. I chose an emerald-green dress that fit me just right—the one that always seemed to earn me compliments. It wasn’t overly fancy, but I always felt confident when I wore it…which was something that I’d need today.
Ian was going to be front and center, and if I was going to be by his side all day, I wanted to feel like I at least fit in by his side just a little.
By the time I was dressed and ready, my nerves had settled into a quiet hum. Anticipation buzzed under my skin as I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric of my dress and stepped toward the adjoining door.
For a moment, I second-guessed whether he’d actually said for me to just enter whenever. But after double checking our texts, I inhaled deeply and opened the door.
My breath hitched when I stepped inside and saw Ian standing near the fridge with a bottle of his favorite sparklingwater in his hands. He stood there in a perfectly tailored designer suit, the kind that looked like it had been made just for him—because, let’s face it, it probably was. The dark gray fabric framed his broad shoulders and tall physique flawlessly, the sharp cut emphasizing his lean, powerful build. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it instead of bothering with a comb, and his deep brown eyes…
Well…those eyes did funny things to my insides every time they looked my way.
“Morning,” he said when he noticed me, his voice low and warm, a small, easy smile tugging at his lips.
I swallowed, willing my voice to work. “Morning.”
And just like that, the hum of anticipation turned into a quiet roar, filling every corner of my chest.
He put his water back in the fridge and turned to face me. “Let me just grab my things and then we can go.”
He strode across the room to the desk area, slipping his laptop into his leather bag. Then he looked at the mirror on the wall behind the desk and adjusted his tie. As he gave his reflection one last check, I couldn’t resist taking him in—the sharp cut of his jaw, the strong lines of his shoulders, the way he carried himself with a quiet, commanding confidence.
He looked like he belonged on the cover of some magazine, the kind of man who could walk into any room and own it without trying.
