18. Aiden

CHAPTER 18

AIDEN

O f course, the second I get back to HQ, everyone wants me.

About a million minor technicians or programmers or admins or whoever swarm around me, locusts ready to strip the skin from my bones when all I want is to crawl into my office and lie on the floor in the dark. I have literally never been so humiliated.

I've come close — and that was Candice's fault too. Maybe chasing her is a huge waste of my time.

I just about manage to brush off the people who want me to sign and approve stuff when the elevator comes into sight. I know for a fact that my inbox is going to be crammed full of the same when I open my emails, but that's a problem for later. For now, I'm going to lock the door and do absolutely nothing until the shame passes.

But, of course, when I step into the empty elevator, I'm joined by the person I want to see least in the world right now.

Nicholas doesn't look at me as he stands next to me in a way that would be shoulder to shoulder if he wasn't a literal giant. "It went well, then?" he says mildly, his mouth only slightly wavering towards a gotcha kind of smirk.

I grunt in response. With this streak I'm on, it would be just my luck for the elevator to break down now and trap us here, giving Nicholas enough time to extract the whole play-by-play of what went down at Candice's. His curiosity is clearly bubbling inside him like it's actually giving off heat, but to my relief he doesn't say anything else.

The elevator door grinds open, and as soon as there's a gap big enough for me to slip through, I make a run for it, Nicholas's judging gaze burning into the back of my head.

The urge to slam my office door like a teenager raging at his parents is overwhelming. But I don't. Instead, I grip the handle so tightly that it feels like I'm going to tear it off. As carefully as I can, I slide the door into position, only letting go when it hits the wood of the frame, leaving me in total silence. I almost turn off the light too, but locking the door and pretending I'm not in would really only serve to make me feel better.

You can't exactly hide if you're the guy in charge.

Not that I'm very in control right now.

Once, when I was fifteen or sixteen and Dad was trying to prime me for this position, he made me work as a lower-than-bottom-rung admin and told me that I should never take anything for granted. I was entering endless numbers into a spreadsheet, and it was so boring I would have rather watched grass grow, but it did teach me something. He told me that as far as he was concerned, I was the CEO of that spreadsheet and any mistakes in it would filter out into the rest of the company — and it would all be my fault if the house of cards came tumbling down, because that's what being the boss is like.

After that summer, he bought me a car. Guess I didn't realize then that, whether things are going right or going wrong, you don't get a reward as the CEO. All you get is the reward of dealing with the next problem.

Unfortunately, Candice has been my problem for eight long years. She looks almost exactly the way I remember — her bob still curls into her face, framing it perfectly, her blue eyes are still suspicious and kind at the same time. She holds herself even taller now, though, like the confidence she used to pretend she had has become real. It's not actually any of my business, but I still get a swell of pride to see it.

I wish she'd come to her senses and see what I'm trying to offer her.

The shrill ringer of the phone cuts through my moping, and I'm tempted to unplug it altogether. If I ran away now to a small, tropical island with a suitcase of cash and a fake passport, what would really be the worst that could happen? Fletcher Tech is circling the drain anyway. I could escape from it all now if I left.

But my dad's legacy rests on this, and the guilt would probably eat me alive, so I answer the phone. "Hello?"

The voice that answers might as well have been that of an angel. She's the last person I was ever expecting to hear. "I hate you. I'm gonna open with that, just so you don't get the wrong idea about any of this."

"Hello, Candice," I say, feeling a warm grin spreading over my face and filling my chest with lightness. "How are you?"

"Don't give me any of that!" she snaps defensively, like she's hiding something or else lying to herself. I can't let myself get carried away. But she is cute, even when she's yelling at me. "This is purely a business call."

I blink in surprise. "Wait, so you've reconsidered?"

She sighs down the phone, and I can almost see her glare of utter contempt manifesting in front of me. "No. But I have read through that information you gave me, and I've called to make a counteroffer."

"Okay, shoot," I say, my heart racing.

A sudden vision flashes before me, of her falling into my arms, looking up at me with those gorgeous, wide eyes, and then I brush her golden hair out of her face and she smiles with those plush, pink lips and whispers to me that she was wrong all along, that she's always loved me and that she always will. She's wearing a white dress — her wedding dress — and I lean down slowly and kiss her…

"Aiden, you're not listening, are you?" she snaps, dragging me out of my fantasy. I absolutely have to stop doing that. If I'm not careful, the teenage crush is going to bloom into something real and uncontrollable.

"Sorry," I say weakly. "What?"

"I said, I don't like it, but the fact is, my company is stalling and yours is teetering on the edge of collapse. We both need a boost. And unfortunately a merger looks great for both our businesses, on paper. I could really use the marketing power of Fletcher Tech."

"And we need fresh blood desperately," I add, trying to figure out where she's actually going with this.

"Exactly." She sighs again and pauses, the faint hum and crackle of the phone line the only thing connecting us. "I don't want to marry a guy I don't know, let alone a guy who betrayed me and everything I stand for."

"But…?" I say hopefully, holding my breath for whatever's coming next.

" But my business means everything to me. So, here are my terms. I have full and final authority over Mettie's Marketplace, no matter what deal we strike. It's mine and it always will be."

"Okay, deal," I say. That's an easy enough thing to agree to, and I have way too much going on to even think about running something new on top of it.

She takes a deep breath. I try to imagine her face — is she angrily steeling herself for what comes next? Or nervous about agreeing to the arrangement? Or bored and irritated by the whole thing? Really, I want to imagine her smiling sweetly, the sun brushing over her face, catching the tip of her small nose.

I'm wandering back into dangerous territory here.

"Good. So my second demand is this: we spend a weekend together, to get to know each other again. I refuse to marry a stranger."

"You want to go on a weekend date?" My heart leaps at the idea, and I'm sure she can hear the way I'm grinning like an idiot, but I don't care. This is better than anything I could have expected. I thought that if she agreed to the deal, she'd want to have it on paper but nothing more.

Would it have hurt to be married to a woman like her on paper alone? I can't see how it wouldn't. But this makes it sound like marriage means something to her. Like she wouldn't be content to sign the deed and never see me again.

"No!" she says sharply. "Well. Kind of. I refuse to call it a date."

"Whatever you want."

"What I want is to go back to the blissful universe where I never had to see your damn face again."

"I don't think we live there, honey."

"Don't start with that," she growls. I'm sure if she was in the room right now, she'd pretty much be trying to tear me limb from limb.

"So, any ideas where we're vacationing? Somewhere tropical and romantic?"

She ignores the comment. "My assistant manager suggested Desert Cove."

"Oh, the oasis! It's supposed to be fantastic there."

She mutters something I can't make out, then says, "Great. Well, if you're happy, send through the dates you're free, and I'll get Kelly to book it all."

"Absolutely not," I say. I'm met by what I can only assume is an astounded silence, so I continue. "You've said it yourself; I'm surrounded by all my dad's money. Let me use some of it on you."

There's another long hesitation during which all I can hear is her breathing, before she gives in. "Fine. Whatever. I'll send you my dates."

Already, I'm waking my computer up and searching for the Cove. It's an exclusive spot, but I can use that Fletcher charm to get us in whenever we want. "You've got my email?"

"Yes," she says, her voice clipped. "And… Aiden?"

"Uh-huh?" I hum, typing with one hand on the website.

"Thank you," she says quietly, and hangs up before I can say anything else.

My heart and stomach are somersaulting and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. One thing I do know, though, is that we're going to have the best weekend ever.