Page 6 of The Love Audit
“I appreciate your concern, Obi Wan, but I’m fine. I don’t have time for a relationship, and the last person I would want one with is Jasmine Morgan. I don’t think I have to tell you why.” I glared at him and backed away from the net, slapping my racket.
“Look, I’m messing with you, D. I just couldn’t resist the urge to tease you about your little boyhood crush.” Chris chuckled, grabbed the ball, and served it to me, and we volleyed it back andforth until I scored on him. Our intense focus on the rest of the game prevented any more conversation about Jasmine Morgan, and that’s how I liked it.
I scored the winning point in our last game just before our court reservation ended. CJ and I walked off the court toward the locker room.
“You know, it’s probably a good idea to keep your distance from Jasmine,” he mused as he stripped down before wrapping a towel around his waist. I turned to look at him, pointedly focusing on his face, causing him to smirk. “A lot of bad stuff happened thirteen years ago, and her parents were at the center of it. You know enough about the Morgans to know that messing with Jasmine after all these years is a bad idea. Mom still doesn’t talk about it even though she and Dad have been divorced for years. They certainly didn’t share any of the details with us. Just better to leave all that stuff alone.”
He’d finally said something I agreed with. For the sake of my sanity and my career, I needed to forget about Jasmine Morgan.
Unfortunately, my subconscious didn’t get the memo, because I woke up thirty minutes later than usual after having what could only be described as an inappropriate dream starring a very grown-up Jasmine Morgan. And when I say inappropriate, I mean the kind of dream that leaves you staring at the ceiling afterward, wondering if you need to reevaluate your life choices. It was the type of dream that made you question how you were supposedto look her in the eye ever again without spontaneously combusting. To shake it off, I took my Kai Ken, Tora, for an extra-long morning run until I felt normal enough to function. By “normal enough,” I mean I could walk without feeling like the world’s horniest teenager.
After my run, I showered and made my way to the office, thinking the worst of my Jasmine-related distractions were behind me. The moment I stepped into the building, my assistant, Brandon, practically pounced on me, clutching his tablet like it held the secrets of the universe. “The execs called a meeting,” he announced, his tone serious. “Westwood offices. Eleven a.m. They want to discuss Miller’s Cove.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Miller’s Cove? Already?”
Brandon nodded, his perfectly arched brows furrowing. “It’s Edward Mason himself. He specifically requested you.”
I tried to play it cool, but inside, I was doing a victory lap. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since my pitch, and Edward Mason wanted to meet to discuss details. I was good, but even I had to admit this was faster than expected. Brandon rattled off some additional notes about the meeting, but I barely heard him as I strode to my office, riding the high of my apparent brilliance.
Unfortunately, my brilliance couldn’t distract me from the giant, Jasmine-shaped elephant in the room. Or rather, in my head. After spending forty-five minutes preparing for the meeting like the professional I was supposed to be, I spent the rest of my morning… Googling her. Yes, Googling. It started innocently enough—a quick search to see if she’d done any noteworthy projects recently. But before I knew it, I was scrolling through herInstagram, using one of my finsta accounts to lurk like a complete creep. Apparently, she liked sunsets, yoga, and posting pictures of ridiculously photogenic salads. Who even made salads look that good?
By the time I arrived at the Westwood offices, I’d convinced myself that my Jasmine fascination was under control. I was early—fifteen minutes early, to be exact—because I’m nothing if not punctual. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sight of Jasmine herself sitting in the waiting room. She looked… incredible. Better than yesterday, if that was even possible. Her outfit was professional yet effortlessly stylish, and her hair was pulled back in a way that only highlighted her features. I barely registered the receptionist trying to flirt with me as I took the seat farthest away from Jasmine.
It wasn’t far enough. My eyes betrayed me almost immediately, drifting toward her like they had a mind of their own. She must have felt my gaze because she looked up, and for a brief moment, our eyes met. Her expression flickered with surprise before settling into the same steely glare she’d given me yesterday. It was the kind of look that could freeze a lesser man in his tracks. She quickly pulled out her phone and began scrolling with the determination of someone who’d rather be anywhere else. I renewed my efforts to avoid looking at her, but it was no use. Even if I hadn’t known her, I wasn’t sure I could’ve kept my eyes off her. She had a presence that demanded attention.
And then there was the jealousy. It hit me out of nowhere, sharp and unwelcome, as I wondered how many men had sat across from her, unable to tear their eyes away. The idea of her with someoneelse made my stomach twist in a way that was both ridiculous and telling. Maybe CJ wasn’t entirely off base. I needed to stay away from this woman—for my sanity, if nothing else.
“Mr. Mason will see you now,” the receptionist called into the waiting room, her voice cutting through my inner turmoil.
I started to speak, but Jasmine beat me to it. “Mr. Mason will see me?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. The sound of her voice sent an unexpected jolt through my chest. It was deeper than I remembered, rich and dripping with confidence.
The receptionist gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. Mr. Mason will see both of you.”
“Both of us?” Jasmine and I said in unison, our voices overlapping in perfect disbelief.
The receptionist’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes. Both of you.” Her tone was laced with condescension, like she was talking to a pair of confused children.
Jasmine’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. Instead, she stood gracefully, smoothing down her skirt with practiced ease. I followed suit, feeling far less composed. My earlier resolution to avoid her was crumbling by the second. So much for keeping my distance.
CHAPTER THREE
Jasmine
Unbelievable!” I slammed my portfolio on Cassie’s desk, making her jump.
“Oh my goodness!” She slammed her laptop shut, giving me her full attention. “Did you get fired? Wait, hold up. Did I get fired?”
No. It was worse. So much worse.
I wondered if getting fired would have been preferable to what happened in that meeting. I was still trying to wrap my head around it.
“Apparently, Edward Mason has a sick sense of humor, or he’s one of those psychotic billionaires who thrives on the misery of others.” I dropped into my chair and placed my head in my hands.
“Okay, that explains nothing.” Cassie slapped her open palm on her desk. “Has anyone been fired—and most importantly, is it me?”
I heaved a deep sigh and lifted my head to meet her eye. “Apparently, Derek Carter—”
“Derek Carter, the piece of furniture in a three-piece suit who we saw yesterday?” Clearly, her concern for her job evaporated with the mention of a handsome man. I ignored her and continued.
