Page 15 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
"Takes a good leader," he interrupts. "And you’re the last founding member left here. Don't deflect. You should be proud."
Our eyes meet across the desk, and again I see a flash of the old Oscar, the one who believed in me, who pushed me to acknowledge my strengths. The one who was my biggest supporter before he became my biggest disappointment.
The moment stretches between us, charged with something I'm not ready to name. I clear my throat, desperate to break the tension.
"About what you overheard earlier…" I finally say, unable to bear the elephant in the room any longer.
"Sydney suggesting you have a 'thing' for me?"
I wince at his directness. "Yes. That. I just wanted to say?—"
"You don't need to explain," he interrupts coolly. "I know you don't. We can move on."
“Oh. Uh… okay.”
I open my mouth, about to say more, but I don’t even knowwhatto say.
His dismissal stings in a way I wasn't prepared for. Of course, he assumes I couldn't possibly have feelings for him. Why would I? He's the man who walked away from our dreams, who betrayed my trust, who?—
Who still makes my pulse quicken when he looks at me.
The realization is as unwelcome as it is undeniable. Somewhere beneath the layers of hurt and resentment, a part of me still responds to him. A part I've tried very hard to silence for twelve years.
"Right," I say, my voice sounding strained. "Good. I'm glad that's… clear."
Oscar returns his attention to the reports, apparently untroubled by the conversation we've just had. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here having an existential crisis over feelings I shouldn't be having for a man I shouldn't want.
God, this is ridiculous. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager instead of a professional adult. I need to get away from him before I do something stupid — like ask why he's so certain I don't have feelings for him, or worse, confirm Sydney's suspicions.
"I should go," I say abruptly, gathering my things with trembling hands. "It's late."
Oscar glances at his watch. "It's only six-thirty."
"I have… plans." The lie sounds hollow even to my ears. “I need to… feed my cat.”
God. Did I seriously just say that? I couldn’t even make the lie a good one, like I have a date or something.
“I thought you were allergic to cats.”
“That’s what antihistamines are for.” I avoid his eyes while searching for a good name for my fictional cat in case he asks.
"Of course. Don't let me keep you. Can we finish reviewing these tomorrow. Maybe over lunch?"
The suggestion of extending our time together sends a jolt of panic through me. "I can't. I have a lunch meeting with the marketing team."
"Dinner, then?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," I say, too quickly.
Oscar leans back in his chair, studying me with those penetrating eyes. "Why not? It's just a business dinner, Alice."
Is it, though? Something about the way he's looking at me suggests otherwise. Or maybe that's just my imagination, tainted by Sydney's romantic notions and my own confusing feelings.
"I prefer to keep work and meals separate," I lie, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Gives my digestive system a break from spreadsheets."
He chuckles, the sound tantalizingly erotic. "Always quick with a comeback. That hasn't changed."
What has changed, I want to ask, but don't. Because I'm afraid of the answer. Afraid that too much has changed, or worse, that not enough has.
