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“Ky,” Tyson nudged me back to reality.
“I’m so sorry. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I forced a smile, accepting the same hand that had explored my body in various ways.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied, descending to his seat.
Men were clueless, so Tyson missed the lustful nature of his response, or maybe it was my guilt. Now I wished like hell I had let Nebula’s thirsty ass bring the files.
“I’ll let the two of you get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Actually, can you finish reviewing the revised contract with Mr. Carmichael? I have another obligation, but he has to leave town tonight,” Tyson’s request hit me just as my hand reached the knob.
“I was actually in the middle of something. I think Nebula can help,” I suggested.
“You made the revisions,” Tyson chuckled at my hesitation because before becoming a trophy wife, contracts were what I did for a living. I could break down the verbiage in my sleep. “Don’t be nervous. You got this.”
“I don’t mind,” Vincent spoke up.
“Sure,” I conceded, so I didn’t bring any more attention to myself.
“Thank you, baby.”
“You’re welcome. Call me if you need me.”
Tyson gently kissed my lips and forehead before collecting his things to leave. My feet were stuck until the door shut.
“Well, time is money, and I know you’re busy. Shall we,” I smiled, taking Tyson’s seat behind his desk.
I took a deep breath, determined to keep this negotiation strictly professional. The memories of our past, the shared laughter, and his romantic proposal threatened to distract me, but I couldn't afford to let emotions sway the outcome of this crucial deal.
I meticulously laid out the details of the proposed project, from the budget to timelines and architectural plans. Vincent’s eyes, however, betrayed a different agenda, forcing his gaze to linger longer than necessary.
Finally, Vincent got tired of pretending there was no shared history between us, “Not the Meraux I expected to see you with,” Vincent shared.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I fired back, tired of my past being thrown in my face for one day.
"Remember when we used to dream about building something big together?" he said, a suggestive glint in his eye. "I never thought it would be a stadium, though."
I sighed inwardly, reminding myself to stay focused. "We're here to discuss the construction proposal for the new stadium, not reminisce."
“Vince? So, we’re back to nicknames,” he smiled, exposing those fangs again.
“No, we’re not, and for the record—I’m married,” I flashed my wedding ring as Vince tugged at his goatee.
“Are you happy?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are. You. Happy?” he repeated, this time slower.
“Very, and I’d hate for you to get on my husband’s bad side. Let's get back to business, shall we?”
He chuckled, his grin unyielding. “Always the no-nonsense type. But you can't deny there was something special between us, Ky.”
“Vince, we've moved on,” I asserted, my tone firm. “Let's keep this professional.”
“Kind of hard sitting across from the love of my life, but for you, I’ll try,” he winked, reclining in the seat.
I suppressed the memories that threatened to resurface, burying them beneath layers of composure. Sadly, our history didn’t move the needle in the Meraux’s favor. Vincent was adamant about the details he wanted in the contract. While some were agreeable, others were egregious. There was no way I could agree to those terms.
