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Gage Branson had broken her.
Not just her heart, but her. Mind, body and soul. She’d fallen so hard for him that the splat hadn’t even registered. Until he casually declared their relationship over, and did she want the clothes back that she’d left at his place?
Nine years later and she was still powerless to move on, unable to fall in love again, incapable of forgetting and far too scarred to forgive. And that’s why her hands were still shaking. Pathetic.
The only positive was she felt certain Gage hadn’t picked up on her consternation. God forbid he figure out how greatly he’d affected her. Emotions had no place here, not at work, not in her personal life. No place. That’s the most important lesson she’d learned from her former mentor. Thankfully, he’d taken her advice to make an appointment without too much protest, giving her much-needed regroup time.
Her phone beeped, reminding her she had five minutes until the meeting she’d called would begin. Five minutes to put her thoughts together about how Fyra should handle the leak in the company. Someone reprehensible had publicized Harper’s nanotechnology breakthrough before they’d even gotten FDA approval or a patent. Five minutes, when she should have had an hour, but didn’t because of the car wreck on Central and the surprise appearance of the man who’d laced her nightmares for nearly a decade.
And maybe a few need-soaked dreams. But he didn’t have to know about that.
Great. This was exactly what she needed, a come-to-Jesus meeting with Trinity, Harper and Alex so soon after locking horns with the offspring of Satan. Who was here strictly because of a leak that never should have happened.
Well, she’d have to get her wild swing of emotions under control. Now. It wasn’t as though she didn’t already know how she felt about the leak—sick, furious and determined to find the source. They’d not only lost a potential competitive advantage, until they figured out who had spilled, there was also no guarantee the same person wouldn’t leak the secret formula—or steal it.
But five minutes was scarcely enough time to settle her racing heart before waltzing into a room with her best friends, who would see immediately that Something Had Happened. They’d probably also realize “Something” had a man’s name all over it.
Working with people who’d held your hair when you drank too much and borrowed your clothes and sat with you in a tight huddle at your grandfather’s funeral meant few secrets. Most of the time, Cass appreciated that. Maybe not so much today.
In the bathroom, she patted her face with a blotting cloth and fixed her makeup, which was equal parts wardrobe and armor.
No one saw through Cass when she had her face on—with the right makeup, no one had to know you were hurting. The philosophy born out of the brokenness Gage had left her with had grown into a multimillion-dollar company. Best Face Forward wasn’t just the company tagline, it was Cass’s personal motto.
No man would ever put a crack in her makeup again.
Fortified, Cass pasted on a cool smile and exited the bathroom. Only to run smack into Fyra’s receptionist, Melinda. Her wide eyes spelled trouble as she blurted out, “There’s an extremely persistent man at the front desk who seems to believe you have an appointment with him.”
Gage. When she’d said make an appointment, she meant for later. Much later.
Her not-so-settled nerves began to hum. “I don’t have an appointment with him. I have a meeting.”
“I told him that. But he insisted that you’d scheduled time with him, and he drove all the way from Austin.” Melinda lowered her voice. “He was very apologetic and sweet about it. Even asked if there was a possibility you accidentally double booked your appointments.”
Did his audacity have no end?
The stars in Melinda’s eyes were so bright, it was a wonder she could still see around Gage’s charm. Well, Cass didn’t suffer from the same affliction. “When have I ever done that?”
“Oh, I know. Never.” Her shoulders ducked slightly. “But I...well, he asked if I’d mind checking with you and he just seems so sincer—”
“Why is Gage Branson in our reception area?” Trinity Forrester, Fyra’s chief marketing officer, snapped, her short, dark hair nearly bristling with outrage. Since Trinity possessed the main shoulder Cass had cried on back in college, the statement was laced with undercurrents of the “hold me back before I cut off his fingers with a dull blade” variety.
Cass stifled a sigh. Too late to have Melinda throw him out before anyone saw him. “He’s here with a business proposition. I’ll take care of it.”
