Page 65 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
Which is what I wanted, so I don’t know why thinking about it makes me feel like I’m about to crumple into a ball.
“Alice!” a woman’s voice calls from behind me, but I don’t turn around. It’s the straw that makes me break, and the next thing I know I’m speed walking out of the room, into the grand hallway, and through a door into the garden.
The fresh air hits my face, and I breathe in deep but don’t stop walking. I need to get away from it all. Just for a few minutes. After that, I’ll be right as rain.
Weaving my way along the path, I pass intricate landscaping and impressive statues of people and mythical creatures. The gardenis a maze, which is exactly what I need right now. The urge to lose myself, to escape it all, is overwhelming, and I walk until I come to a small fountain with a stone woman pouring water into its center.
Collapsing on a bench, I stare at the bubbling water and sigh. Did I look crazy back there, running out like I did? Do I even care?
Closing my eyes, I press two fingers against the spot between my eyebrows. Of course I care. I’m just having a bad afternoon. A bad month.
Even though I haven’t spoken to Oscar at all – and I’ve closed all streams of communication – he’s haunted me like a ghost. No matter what I do, he’s always there, waiting to jump into my thoughts. The worst part is that I don’t regret anything. I made the right choice leaving both him and Rooted Pantry, and I wouldn’t do anything different given a second chance.
That truth should help me move on, but it’s done anything but. While my life is changing on the outside, inside I still feel stuck, tied to Oscar in an inexplicable way.
Opening my eyes, I catch sight of movement through the trees. A tall man. Broad shoulders. Dark hair…
Could it be?
No. I’m seeing things.
Oscar didn’t show up here today. Oscar has probably already forgotten about me, moved on to the next woman he’s chosen to play mind games with. Oscar…
Is stepping onto the main walkway, stopping on the other side of the fountain, his gaze locked on mine, drinking me in.
My breath hitches in my chest, and I feel weak even though I’m sitting down.
His footsteps crunch softly on the gravel path as he comes around the fountain, and my whole body goes taut. For a second, I want to pretend I don’t see him, that I’m somewhere else. Somewhere he can’t reach me. Somewhere he never existed.
But I’ve already looked into his eyes, and I can’t look away. Not because I don’t want to, but because it feels physically impossible. There’s a tether to my heart, and he controls the other end of it. Whether I like it or not.
He stops a few feet away, hands at his sides like he’s afraid if he moves too quickly, I’ll bolt.
“Alice,” he says, voice rough with something that almost sounds like… relief.
I straighten on the bench but don’t stand. My chest tightens. “How did you know I was here?”
“Get Fresh is hosting the conference, isn’t it? Why would its COO miss it?”
I don’t answer, just keep looking at him. He’s something out of a dream… or is it a nightmare? I don’t even know anymore.
“Although,” he says, “I thought you would be inside schmoozing.”
“I’ve had my fill of it.” I look away, back into the water, though every cell in my body remains hyper aware of his presence.
Silence stretches between us, the only sound the soft splash of water trickling from the statue’s urn.
“I saw you blocked me on everything,” he says quietly. “I don’t blame you.”
I cross my arms and look back at him. “You don’t blame me? Then why are you here?”
“Because I needed to look you in the eyes,” he says, stepping a little closer, “and tell you again that I never signed off on those layoffs. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”
I stare back at the water. My throat tightens. “I didn’t believe you because everything about the timing felt too convenient. Because Jack and Halston pulled the trigger, and you… what? Just watched?”
“No. I was trying to buy time. I didn’t think they’d go through with it without a vote.” He pauses. “But they did.”
I say nothing. He exhales and sits on the other end of the bench, leaving enough space to be respectful. To remind me that this is my choice, not his.
