“Please be at Conference Room 3 at ten. Bring two copies of the standard NDA, the event-night liquor liability form, and the photographer release. We're meeting with a Mr. Simons regarding a private function next month.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And bring your notepad. He's a thorough one.”
“Understood, sir.”
And that's it.
I simply do as asked, preparing the copies my boss asked for, making sure I have my notepad with me, and then doing a last-minute check of my appearance.
Looking professional is the key, not attractive.
But when I get to the conference room, and I see who's inside?
You're an idiot, Juniper Lake. You should've cared more about being attractive!
He's seated at the long table with his back half-turned to the door, in a suit that's the color of ink. He doesn't look up when I come in, and I'm glad. I still need time to figure out what to think, what to do, and if possible, how to look a little bit more attractive in the next fifty seconds or so...since the woman beside him, with her hand on his arm, isdrop...dead...gorgeous.
Long blond hair, lashes that are even longer, and legs that look just about endless. She's talking to him and he's nodding, and then she's laughing like he's answered her, but I'm not quite sure he did? Or maybe she's telepathic. It's possible, right?
He finally looks up, and...it's exactly as I feared.
Itishim.
Mr. Cemetery.
And the thought has me grabbing the back of my chair because I feel like my knees are about to give out at any moment.
What was the name on the forms Mr. Coates asked me to print earlier?
Nate.
Nate Simons.
The name didn't mean anything to me then, but now it means everything.
When our gazes meet, he doesn't give anything away. And I know this will sound stupid, but I'll stake my life on this. He recognizes me. He knows me. The way I know him and couldn't stop thinking about him since that day at the cemetery.
But Nate, though...
Mr. Coates comes in, briefcase under his arm, and apologizing for being two minutes late.
Nate looks away like I'm simply something to be dismissed and introduces my boss to his date.Francine.That's his girlfriend's name.Francine.But as much as it hurts to think of her name, what almost kills me is what hedoes.
It's how he looks away from me soeasily,and I think it's also that part which shoves me back to reality. How he dismisses me like I'm nothing while here I am, forcing myself to look away. Walk away. And just do everythingawayfrom him because I've just become the silliest person, being affected by a stranger who clearly doesn't give a whit about me.
I sit in my usual corner. This is my safe place. A part where I can blend in the background, put my head down, and just work. Butnow...it's different. The next sixty-seven minutes—every second of it is different.
It used to be easy for me to take notes. But now, I'm barely managing, and I know it isn't simply because this is the most thorough event-night privacy NDA that Mr. Coates has ever drafted. The party's supposed to celebrate record-earnings of Simons Holdings, LLC. But the way we're, well, securing everything, it's as if the event has the POTUS as its secret guest of honor.
You can do this, June.
Even if my hand tightens uncontrollably around my pen whenever I hear her laugh...
And I end up swallowing hard every time he addresses the other woman by name...
Even if my heart starts breaking whenever I see, in the corner of my eye, the other woman nudging his foot with her foot under the table—