Page 21 of Twist of Fate
It’s been two years since I took over the company and a year and a half since I approved a major remodel of the entire building, yet I still can’t bring myself to change a single thing in here.
My role in the company anymore—the “acting” part of my title is just a formality, and the board has been pressuring me to drop it for good, but I just can’t.
Or won’t.
The massive stroke my father had means he’ll never step foot in this office again. He’ll never run another board meeting. A once formidable man now spends his days trying to relearn how to write the alphabet since he no longer can speak it.
My thoughts wander back to Aisling in that conference room today. No matter how many times I’ve tried to push her out of my mind, she remains.
There was a time when I would have happily welcomed thoughts of her.
But that was before, when life seemed simple, and I thought I could have it all. Now, I had a building full of people counting on me not to fuck up—and that building now includes her.
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I tap on the photos icon and scroll down until I reach a folder near the bottom titled “AF.” My thumb hovers for a second before I tap, and I am prompted to enter a six-digit password.
A password I don’t know. On purpose.
Everything from the week I spent with her is in this folder. Photos, text messages, and the screenshot I took of her phone number right before I deleted it.
As I’ve done countless times before, I close the album and try to move on. I didn’t have time for distractions then, and I certainly don’t now.
* * *
It’s late afternoon, and my knee won’t stop bouncing up and down like a wayward basketball. I asked Stella, my assistant, to arrange individual meetings with our new hires under the guise that I hadn’t had time to meet with them earlier.
Really, though, I just want a reason to meet Aisling and figure out what the hell she’s doing here.
Over the past hour, I’ve chatted with all the other new hires. The Brit and I discussed our favorite rugby and football teams. Our in-house hire inquired about my years as a tour guide, and the last lad talked my ear off about the new Xbox he just bought.
Three down. One to go.
I nervously tap my fingers on the desk, waiting.
My father’s old grandfather clock ticks in the background, only adding to the anxiety brewing in my veins. Finally, my computer pings, and a message from my assistant pops up, alerting me that Aisling has arrived.
Send her back, I type back.
I try to remind myself to remain professional. She is, after all, an employee, and?—
The sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood outside my office makes my eyes snap up. Suddenly, she’s there, and for the second time today, I find myself unable to breathe.
I once tried to convince myself it was just a physical reaction I was having to Aisling and nothing more, but I know better now.
It’s her.
Though I purposely fucked everything up between us, I’ll never deny the pull I have to her.
Even as I push her away.
“Sit.” I direct her to the chair in front of the desk. She glances around hesitantly, likely noticing the office’s stark contrast to the rest of the building.
It looks like a damn mausoleum in here.
Feels like it, too.
I watch as she quietly takes a seat, tucking her black pencil skirt under her. She crosses her legs, and Christ, I’m staring.
Turning my attention back to my computer, I quickly pull up her employee file. Why? I have no fucking clue. I didn’t do this when I met with the other three, but I feel like if I look over at her right now, she’ll see right through me and know I am sitting here fantasizing about my head being buried between those legs.
