It was two in the afternoon when I finally sat down in the break room by myself, eating my plain ham and cheese sandwich. It was a lunch made for grade-school kids, but it was also a staple lunch my father used to prepare me all the time.
My father. Talented guitar player. My hero, and I was his princess.
I missed him. Badly.
When he’d died, he had taken a big part of me with him, the part that believed that I was good enough, that I was worthy, that I was perfect. Now, there was no one left to cheer me on, push me to do my best, and remind me that I was talented and just how I had been made to be.
My chest ached at the absence of him. He used to make my lunch every day before he went to work. He’d leave me little notes in my lunchbox or in between my notebook. Funny quotes or terrible drawings, just to make me laugh during my long school days.
Before the sadness took me under, I focused on the task at hand, at eating lunch, but the ham and cheese sandwich suddenly lost its flavor.
After taking another bite of my food, I flipped the page of my book—the latest book by Piper Rayne, Sexy Filthy Boss. It was a romantic comedy that had me laughing before melancholy thoughts filtered through.
Just like my father, I loved drowning myself in a good book. It was my favorite thing ever.
I took another bite of my sandwich and dipped my nose back into the pages. I was almost on the next chapter when a deep baritone stilled me and forced my head up. Immediately, heat rushed to my cheeks again, and my heart pitter-pattered in my chest.
Damn it, betraying heart.
I needed to remind that stupid thing that Connor was the one who had embarrassed me in front of everyone in the boardroom.
“Having a late lunch?” He had a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and his smile was actor beautiful.
“Coffee so late in the afternoon?” I shot back.
He lifted his cup, smiling. “I haven’t been able to sleep lately. Can I join you?”
His cool, aloof demeanor after everything that had happened irked me. Something about me was that I lived for comfort. Never did I like to put myself in a situation that would make me uncomfortable. Parties? Nope. Clubs? Nope. Sitting and talking to one of the hottest guys I’d ever met, him being the CEO’s son. I’d rather not. I’d rather walk on coal, eat the coal, and burn my throat and all my intestines with it.
I should say no. I should say I was done with lunch.
“Sure,” I choked out, mouth full, not making eye contact. My right cheek puffed out, chipmunk-style, because I hadn’t swallowed the last of my sandwich yet.
He embarrassed you, remember? He embarrassed you.
Then, I decided I was done, and I didn’t have to sit here in discomfort. I gulped the last bite down. “You know what? You can have my seat. I’m just about done, and I have a ton of work to do.”
There wasn’t an occupied seat in the whole room. Why couldn’t he have taken one of those, so I could finish my lunch?
I stuffed my empty sandwich container in my brown paper bag. I still had my chips and cookie left, but I wanted to leave.
“Charlie, can we talk for a second?”
My expression pinched, and I smiled a forced, pained smile. “I actually have a lot to do today.”
“Please. Just give me a few minutes,’ he sighed, his eyes soft, almost pleading.
For a moment, I debated on denying his request. I did have a lot of work to do, but more than that, I was irked at him.
But after a long beat, I nodded.
He took a seat in front of me, tapping his fingers against his coffee mug. “About the meeting today …” His gaze dipped to the cup within his hands before meeting my eyes. “It wasn’t cool. It won’t happen again.”
My ears burned while agitation seeped deep in my skin as I remembered how he’d put me on the spot at the meeting. “Why did you lie to me?” I snapped.
My irritation seemed to amuse him because his eyebrows shot up and he smirked. “Lie? I didn’t actually lie.”
I rolled my eyes, his small smile aggravating the crap out of me. “You could have told me who you were.”
“But where’s the fun in that?”
I gritted my teeth and jutted out my chin, ignoring his comment. “Like I said, I have a lot of work to do today.” I stood, already done with this conversation and annoyed that he’d interrupted my lunch.
When I turned to leave, he gripped my hand, stilling me. “I’m kidding.” His hold tightened on my fingers and my eyes narrowed.
“Not about the sorry part because I obviously meant that part.”
When I didn’t say anything, he clasped his other hand over mine, where it looked like he was praying, my fingers sandwiched within his. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I know I should have told you who I was, but …” His eyes searched mine. “But I didn’t want you to filter your true thoughts about our products or, more importantly, act differently in front of me.” His voice was soft, genuine, almost begging.
“Why would I do that, treat you differently?”
“Because of my last name. Because of who I am.” He shook his head, and his eyebrows furrowed. After a long sigh, he said, “People tend to act differently around me when they find out who I am.”
His last name was a nationwide name, so I understood this part, but still, it didn’t make me feel better.
“Honestly, would you have been able to tell me what you thought about our products if you had known who I was?”
My eyes drifted to his hands clasped over mine, and I shook my head. “Still … you should have told me.”
“I know. I should have. Please sit, Charlie. I need to ask you something.”
Being so close to him, I drowned in his chocolate-brown eyes and read the sincerity in them. I should hear him out. I could do that much. I debated on it, but after a beat, I sat down.
He released my hand, and his gaze dropped to the table. Clearing his throat, he said, “This rebranding initiatives is Colby’s last effort to save this company.” He visibly swallowed and met my gaze. Despair and concern reigned in the span of his brown irises. “Our profit margins have dwindled, and we’ve sustained substantial losses for the last year. I need a concise, strategic, and actionable plan to save this company, and my main focus is a brilliant marketing vision.”
I could feel his utter determination oozing out of him. “I’ve seen my marketing team’s initial specs, and it’s not going to cut it. My gut tells me that it won’t take us out of the red, and I need help.” Desperation was heavy in his tone, which matched the intensity in his eyes. “We’re not going to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a marketing plan that I don’t believe in.” He leaned into me and rested his elbows on the table. “What you said the other day … about branding to the essence of family, I think that’s the direction we need to take, and I need you to help me.”
It took me a few seconds to register what he’d just said.
When his request finally sank in, I blinked up at him and reeled back. “What?”
“I need you to help me with the rebranding initiatives.”
“I heard you. But why?”
“Do you even have to ask? I’ve seen your work.”
I shook my head, unbelieving. “Okay, yeah, I drew one half-assed picture of a pretend candy bar for fun. That doesn’t mean I’m qualified to help you with the rebranding initiatives. That’s crazy.”