Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Pierce

W hy my cousin loves this city, I have no clue. He should have stayed in London with me. With the way people push and crowd onto the elevator, you’d think the world is ending, and this thing is going to teleport us all to safety. And when did people stop having manners and common courtesy?

Of course, I get a spot right by the elevator buttons and have to chance getting everyone’s winter cold by pressing every number from two to sixty.

As I wait for my floor, I don’t want to engage in conversation, so I bury my head in my phone as if I’m someone important who can’t spend a minute on an elevator without someone demanding my time.

The fine hairs rise along the back of my neck, and I get the distinct sensation that someone is staring at me. The elevator dings, giving me an excuse to look up, and bloody hell, I can’t believe who’s looking back at me. It can’t be her.

Yet I know it is.

Long dark hair, brown eyes that drew me in all those years ago at the pub where we first met. I’ve thought of her too many times to count over the years. She’s gorgeous now, whereas I would have described her as cute and adorable back then.

Brynn lifts her hand up warily as if she thinks I’ve forgotten her. Never.

The doors shut, and the elevator lifts, along with my stomach.

All these years between us, and now she’s standing in front of me.

I’m not a man accustomed to losing his ability to speak. Hell, I’m a professor, or at least I was a professor, of marketing.

“Hello, Brynn.” I pocket my phone and step closer.

She steps back.

So, she still hates me. Got it.

“Hello, Mr.…Pierce.”

I chuckle because that was our exact problem, wasn’t it? Who exactly was I to her? Not who I wanted to be, that’s for sure, but there was a lot riding on my future when we first met.

“How have you been?” I ask.

That’s the best I can do? I sound like a complete prat.

I really hate the judgmental arse who lives inside my head.

“Good.”

Brynn looks next to her, where a petite woman is staring between the two of us, watching our interaction. Her smile is wide and welcoming as if we’re a show, and she won first row seats.

“You?” Brynn asks, looking away from the woman.

“Good.”

So, we’re both good. That’s good.

“What are you…” she asks at the same time I ask, “Do you live here?”

You knob. Why would she be at a hotel with luggage if she lived here?

“My cousin lives here,” I answer first, with the hopes she’ll forget what I asked her.

“Nice. No, I’m here for…well, I don’t live here.”

So, she’s being dodgy about why she’s here. Interesting. I didn’t speak all my truth either, so I can’t fault her.

“Fifteen!” a man calls when the elevator stops and the doors start to open.

Brynn smiles. The same one she’d give me in front of Professor Jorgensen. There’s not one genuine muscle working in her face right now.

“It was nice seeing you. Enjoy your holiday.” She wheels out her suitcase.

I almost don’t get off because I don’t want to seem stalkerish. But my room is on this floor, and it’s absurd that I’m worried what she’ll think when we’ll likely go another six years without seeing one another again.

“Actually, this is my floor too.” I step out, the doors shutting behind me.

“Oh, well…” She looks at the signs for which direction to head for her room. “I’m this way.”

“Me too,” I say, shaking my head, following her.

“This is getting weird.” She stops so abruptly I almost trip over her suitcase but catch myself. “What room are you in?”

“Fifteen-thirty-one.”

She pulls out her keycard envelope, and her jaw opens when she holds it up at me. “Fifteen-thirty-three.”

Meaning we’re sharing a wall. How wonderful. I get to spend the night thinking about how she’s only feet away from me. This year keeps giving over and over again.

I’m not sure what to say before we part, but that arse inside my head speaks up before I can stop him. “Want to get a drink?”

She’s quiet, and the regret of asking sinks deeper into my skin as if it’s a toxin that’s making my temperature rise.

“Sorry, I’m super tired from my flight. But I’m sure with that accent of yours, you’ll find someone to join you in no time.” She turns and aggressively tugs her suitcase down the hall.

I follow her. “Not everyone loves a British accent.”

She stops at her door, and I stop at mine, then our eyes lock. “Let’s not pretend I’m the only American girl you’ve had in your bed.”

“You’re not the only one, but you were the best.”

She huffs, and her eyes, perfectly lined with a dark eyeliner, narrow. “And here I thought maybe you’d changed. Lost that cocky attitude of yours.”

“On the contrary, I’m paying you a compliment, not myself.” I pull out my keycard, and she raises hers, both of our cards hovering just above the locks.

“Well, it wasn’t what happened in the bed that you needed to work on. It was what happened afterward where you fell short.”

How have we possibly just gone from shock, to cordial, to throwing insults.

“I see you’re still as immature as a teenage girl.”

She scoffs as if I can’t make a dig at her. “Sorry I wasn’t one of the groupies following you around campus. I had higher goals than being your Wednesday night girl.”

I shake my head, frustration mounting because she’ll never understand that what happened with us wasn’t all under my control. “Bloody hell, I was your TA. What did you want me to do?”

Are we really going to have this knockdown, drag-out fight in the hallway of a hotel?

“Treat me like I wasn’t just some girl who landed in your bed that you could just toss to the side. I was just as shocked as you when I got into that classroom,” she whisper-shouts as if we’re back at the university with ears all around.

“It was my first year, I was trying to make a good impression. The fact that I slept with a student wasn’t going to win me any brownie points with the professor. There are rules in place.” The anger and frustration I felt then that my hands were tied, that there wasn’t anything I could do about my feelings for Brynn, rises to the surface. Especially because I felt something I hadn’t felt with any other woman prior.

“It was a conversation, Pierce. I never asked you to sleep with me in secret.” She scans her keycard, and I want to rip it out of her grip, not let her step into that room and disappear from my life again. She twists the doorknob, and my stomach sinks.

“Let me buy you a drink,” I blurt like a bumbling fool.

Her laugh echoes through the hallway. “Funny, that’s what you said to me the first time we met. But I’m not as foolish as you seem to assume, and I don’t repeat my mistakes. Happy holidays, Pierce. I do hope Santa brings you some coal for your stocking.” Her smile is sarcastic, and she walks into her room, the door slamming behind her.

Goddamn it. I slide my own keycard into the lock and disappear into my room.

This is not what I need the night before the most important interview of my life.