Page 18 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
Before I can respond, someone suggests a game — a corn hole ‘tournament’, and people quickly begin organizing themselves into groups.
"Alice, you're with me," I hear Sydney declare, grabbing her friend's arm. "Oscar, you too!"
“What’s the prize?” someone calls out.
People laugh. “Satisfaction,” Mike from HR says.
We redirect our focus to the game, but something has changed. The tension between myself and Alice has transformed from hostile to something else entirely — something complicated and dangerous… and thrilling.
I want to talk to her about what she said, tell her how much it moved me, but we’re surrounded by people, and my throat is thick with emotion. Did she really mean all of that, or is she only trying to butter me up?
I’m well aware that I shouldn’t care, that reading into things won’t get me anywhere. Still, it’s a nice, comfy fantasy, thinking that she might actually like me now.
By the time our team is declared the winner, the sun has set completely. String lights twinkle overhead, creating a canopy of stars. The jazz quartet has shifted to more upbeat numbers, and several couples have begun dancing on the small area cleared for that purpose.
Sydney drags her date toward the dance floor, and Alice and I are left alone, standing close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
"Thank you for the toast earlier," I say, turning to face her. "It was unexpected."
She shrugs, the movement elegant and delicate. "It was sincere. You've been… different than I expected."
"Different good or different bad?"
"I'm still deciding." The corners of her mouth lift in a small smile. "But I'm leaning toward good."
It's not forgiveness, not even close. But it's a start — more than I dared hope for when I sent out the party invitations.
As we stand together under the string lights, watching our employees celebrate, I allow myself to imagine, just for a moment, a world where Alice and I find our way back to being partners in the truest sense of the word. It's a dangerous thought, one that I would caution any friend against entertaining.
But as Alice gives me another smile, and we stand side by side, swaying to the music, I can't bring myself to care about what's smart or sensible.
Not one bit.
CHAPTER 8
ALICE
Maybe it’s the liquor. Maybe it’s the romantic atmosphere, courtesy of the string lights, the music, and the gentle breeze coming off the lake.
Whatever the reason, the sun has barely set when I find myself on the dance floor with an unlikely partner.
"You're not as terrible a dancer as you were in college," I tease Oscar, letting him spin me under his arm.
His laugh is rich and uninhibited. "I've had practice since then."
Of course he has. With the finest teachers?
Maybe. There’s little left that he can’t buy.
I try to imagine his life during our twelve years apart, where he’s gone, what he’s learned, who he was with. It’s like trying to imagine an alien world, though, and every time I make the attempt, I come up short.
But does it really matter? We’re here now, and things are – oddly enough – working out.
The week of tension since the acquisition seems to have melted away beneath the summer night sky, replaced by something that feels dangerously like nostalgia. I did the right thing with my speech, which wasn’t impulsive, but rather something I had thought about for hours today.
Oscar clearly doesn’t hold any ill will toward me, so, despite what he did, I realize it’s up to me to make things better between us. He promised to give me creative say in the company, and this is what I can give him in return: a peace offering.
So far, it seems to be working very well.
