She looked up, saw me, and gave a polite nod.
A polite nod. Like I was just her boss. Like we hadn’t spent the weekend exploring every inch of each other’s bodies. Like she hadn’t whispered my name in the dark and left marks on my shoulders with her nails.
My stomach dropped to the floor.
She took a seat across from me—her usual spot—and pulled out her notebook. Flipped it open. Clicked her pen. All business. She didn’t smile. Didn’t give me any sign that the weekend had meant anything.
I tried to catch her eye, but she was studiously focused on her notes, writing something in the margin like it was the most important thing in the world.
Fuck.
“Morning, everyone,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended. I cleared my throat. “Let’s get started.”
I pulled up the analytics dashboard on the screen at the front of the room, trying to focus on the numbers instead of the sinking feeling in my gut.
“I want to start by thanking Sutton for her incredible work this weekend,” I said, forcing myself to sound professional. “The Home and Hearth Holiday Expo was a massive success.”
A few people glanced at Sutton. She gave a small, professional smile and nodded.
Professional. That word again. It was killing me.
“Our download numbers are up three hundred percent since Friday,” I continued, clicking to the next slide. “Social media engagement has tripled. And this—“ I pulled up a video post from a lifestyle blogger. “This demo from Saturday has over two million views and climbing.”
The room erupted in excited chatter. Monique was practically bouncing in her seat. Derek looked genuinely impressed for the first time since I’d hired him.
“This is exactly the momentum we needed heading into the new year,” I said. “Great work, everyone. Sutton, do you want to walk us through the social media strategy going forward?”
She stood, moving to the front of the room with that same polished confidence she’d had all weekend. But there was a distance to it now. A wall between us that hadn’t been there two days ago.
She talked about engagement metrics and influencer partnerships and holiday content calendars. She was brilliant, articulate, and completely in her element.
And she didn’t look at me once. Not once.
My chest felt tight. My hands were clenched under the table. I’d screwed this up. Somehow, between last night and this morning, I’d lost her.
Maybe she’d woken up and realized what a mistake it had been. Maybe she’d talked to her roommates and they’d convinced her this was a bad idea. Maybe she was already planning her exit strategy, looking for a new job, counting down the days until she could get away from me.
The thought made me want to put my fist through the wall.
“Any questions?” Sutton asked, wrapping up her presentation.
A few hands went up. She fielded them with ease, never once glancing my way.
“Great,” I said when she finished, my voice flat. “Thanks, Sutton. That’s all for today, everyone. Get back to it.”
Chairs scraped. People gathered their things. The usual post-meeting buzz filled the room as everyone filed out.
Sutton packed up her portfolio, still not looking at me.
This was it. She was going to walk out that door, and I was going to have to figure out how to work with someone I’d fallen for over a single weekend. Someone who clearly didn’t feel the same way.
I started gathering my things, my jaw clenched so tight it ached.
And then she was there. Right beside me—so close, I could smell that cinnamon-vanilla scent that had been driving me crazy for weeks.
She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “I can’t wait to get you alone tonight.”
Every muscle in my body locked. My head whipped toward her, and she was already pulling back, but not before I caught the hint of mischief dancing in those green eyes.
