“Yes.” Macalister didn’t waste time waiting for Tate to finish his polite offer. “Please help Sophia locate the kitchen.” Macalister cast a finger toward me and promptly put his attention on his phone.
Tate’s dark eyes went wide when he turned and discovered me frozen beside the couch. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like. It seemed very much like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing either.
“Sophia?” His word was loaded with confusion and distrust.
“She’s my assistant,” Macalister said.
I shoved a smile on my face. “Hey, Tate. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” He smiled back, but I heard the words in his eyes. “It hasn’t been long enough.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Kitchen’s down the hall. Take a left by the picture of the Seattle branch.” He paused and begrudgingly added, “You want me to show you?”
It came out forced and overly enthusiastic from me. “No, thanks.”
I left the men in the office and scurried out into the hall.
Thankfully, the coffee system was easy to figure out, and by the time I returned with an HBHC insulated cup full of black coffee, Tate was nowhere to be found.
Macalister didn’t bother looking at me as he took the cup from my hand, causing our fingers to brush. That sliver of contact was enough to warrant his attention though. He eyed me curiously as he took a sip.
“I take it you and Tate are no longer together.”
I jolted. “What? No, we never were.”
He studied me like a math equation. “Are you sure? I recall the way you looked at him at Royce’s wedding.”
My pulse kicked. Macalister hadn’t been in the loop the last two years, but before that? He didn’t miss much.
Well, other than his wife’s affair.
“Yeah,” my tone was curt, “I’m positive Tate and I didn’t date.”
“Why didn’t you?” He acted like his question was innocent when it was anything but. “You’re both young and attractive, and you ran in the same social circles.”
I was still off-balance from seeing Tate, and hearing how Macalister found me attractive only added to my disorientation.
I’d been a media darling during my Olympic outing and a homecoming and prom queen. I’d spent my high school and college years believing I was the prettiest girl in the room . . . although never on the inside. Just on the surface. My ego might have rivaled Macalister’s at one point, and by the time I’d graduated with my bachelor’s in communications from Columbia, I’d amassed over a million followers on Instagram.
But faceless strangers, who could say whatever the fuck they wanted without consequences, had no qualms about picking me apart. And, Christ, they were good at it. Every decision I’d made was second-guessed or shouted down, every flaw I tried to disguise was amplified in hurtful comments.
I was unwanted, either by my parents, or the boy I was hopelessly in love with, or the people who pretended to be my friends. I was no longer the prettiest girl in the room, and sometimes, on a particularly rough day, I wondered if the ugliness I felt on the inside had crept out and was starting to take over.
“I don’t know why we never dated,” I answered softly. It was the truth too.
Was it possible Macalister would understand how I felt better than anyone else?
My heart raced as I opened it up and displayed it for him. “Sometimes two people aren’t meant to be together, no matter how badly one of them wants it.” I watched my words soak in. “And I wanted it so fucking much. Like, an unhealthy amount.”
Macalister’s gaze was fixed on me like he was witnessing a disaster unfold and he couldn’t tear himself away, even when he wanted to.
The office was deathly silent, so I barely had to whisper it. “You know what that’s like, don’t you?”
I wasn’t sure how he’d react. Would he laugh off my accusation? Pick something up off his desk and hurl it aside in anger? Calmly tell me I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about?
He stood motionless, trapped inside his body. He could have belittled me or worse—he could have exploited my vulnerability as a weakness. But the gravity seemed to press him into place. The moment suspended between us, thickening until it was hard for me to breathe, and yet his shoulders rose as he took in an enormous breath.
He gently laced the word into the quiet enveloping us. “Yes.”
His simple confession, spoken in an uneven voice, nearly broke me, yet made me stronger. It was nice not to be abandoned with my lonely ache. Neither of us had to be alone.
I stared at him with my heart pumping in my chest so loudly I wondered if he could hear it, while I marveled at the sight of him in his tailored suit. He was tall and broad, in excellent shape and had a handsome face. He owned the second largest bank in the country, and at the pinnacle of his career, he’d been one of the most powerful people in the world.
But he was just a man.
One who’d lost more in love than nearly anyone.
The magnetic pull to him when we’d touched had been strong, but it didn’t compare to the awareness flooding down through my body now. This connection was a thousand times more electric, and so fierce, it stole my breath.
He felt it too because it knocked him backward a half-step.
Macalister’s expression filled with panic, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He lifted his chin and pulled his guard back in place, returning to the calm, controlled man I was more familiar with.
“You were right when you said people like to confide in you.” His hands hung at his sides, but his fingers curled into loose fists. “I did not intend to say that.”
Perhaps the connection had scared him, but it was too late to take it back. It couldn’t be undone. But I didn’t appreciate the way he peered down at me now like I’d dug this information out of him against his will.
“I wasn’t trying anything. I just wanted you to know . . .” I sighed. “I’ve been there. If you want to talk about Marist—”
His expression turned stormy. “Don’t ever bring this up again, you understand me?”
The harsh words stung like the slap of a hand. “Yes, sir.”
I’d disoriented him, and he lashed out, desperate for something familiar to cling to. “Tate is who you want me to ruin in DuBois’s book.”
Oh, hell no. My own hands tensed into fists. “I don’t want to ruin anyone, and let’s be perfectly clear. If she’s off limits?” I glared up at his beautiful and infuriating face. “Then so is Tate.”
“Fine.” Macalister snatched up his coffee and took a long sip. “Go down to Human Resources and start your employment paperwork. I’m done with you for now.”
My mouth fell open, but he sat down at his desk, opened his laptop, and I ceased to exist.
FIVE
SOPHIA
MACALISTER DIDN’T STRIKE ME AS A CAT PERSON, but there was a gorgeous black one slinking down the grand staircase when I was ushered into the Hale foyer. The cat softly meowed its greeting as it hurried my direction like I was its long-lost friend.
I bent down and wiggled my fingers, enticing it closer. “Look at you. What’s your name?”