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She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. No matter what happened in the next five minutes, she could walk out with her head held high, knowing she’d tried.
She opened the door, a welcoming smile on her face.
“Good morning. Thank you for seeing me...”
Her voice trailed off as her steps faltered. She blinked several times, hoping against hope that she was just imagining things.
But the image stayed firm. A tall, broad-shouldered man dressed to perfection in a black Armani suit and red tie was seated behind one of the largest desks she’d ever seen. His face had hardened over the years, the lack of beard emphasizing the angular cut of his chin and the long, elegant line of his nose. His hair had been cut short on the sides and left longer on the top, swept to the side and styled so perfectly that not even a wisp dared to be out of place. He leaned back in his chair, his amber eyes sharp and focused on her with a cold intensity that made her feel like she was being examined under a microscope.
“Alexandra Waldsworth.”
The rich timbre of his voice washed over her, sank beneath her skin and ignited a simmering warmth deep in her veins even though each syllable of her name was coated in icy disdain.
She glanced down, saw her business card sitting in the middle of the perfectly organized black walnut desk trimmed with glass edging. He must have looked her up, she realized as she tried to tamp down the nausea rising in the pit of her stomach.
Her eyes snapped back up to his and she barely kept her composure as she met his condescending stare. Why had he agreed to meet with her instead of having Jessica kick her out? Or even call the police to have her removed? Perhaps he had wanted to tell her to her face to never walk into the gleaming halls of the Pearson Group again.
“It’s Moss now,” she replied, proud that she managed to keep her voice steady.
He arched a brow. “Marry one of your rich beaus?”
“No. My mother’s maiden name. I stopped going by Waldsworth years ago.”
“Last I knew, you were dating some oil tycoon’s son from Princeton.” His lips curled into a sneer that nearly made her flinch. “Named after a car?”
“Royce.”
She didn’t elaborate. What was the point in explaining that her father had basically forced her to spend time in Royce’s company in a bid to bring his parents on as investors in the Waldsworth Fund? That the one time Royce had attempted to kiss her, he’d reminded her more of an overexcited puppy than a potential lover?
“Didn’t work out?”
“No.” She gestured to the incredible view of the city’s skyline. “You’ve done well for yourself, Grant. Congratulations.”
“Mr. Santos,” he corrected. “Chairman, CEO and founder of the Pearson Group.” His eyes moved from her face to the flowers clutched in her hands. He raised one thick brow. “And you’re now using a false name and selling flowers.” One corner of his mouth flicked up. “My, my, how times have changed.”
Guilt rooted her feet to the floor as the simmering warmth disappeared under a flush of hot shame. She deserved every bit of his contempt. He’d done nothing but love her, support her, encourage her. And when push had come to shove, she’d fallen beneath the force of her father’s wrath instead of standing up for the man she loved.
The man who had obviously continued on to bigger and better things. Floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the room gave yet another impressive view of Central Park and the cityscape. Behind Grant’s desk black bookcases lined the walls, the shelves playing host to books on finance, politics and history, along with artfully-placed sculptures, awards and the occasional picture of Grant with people who looked very important. Leather chairs were arranged just so around a glass coffee table by the windows. Not what she would have pictured for Grant—too austere and cold—but that was based off the Grant Santos she’d known nine years ago.
“I apologize, Mr. Santos.” How she managed to sound collected, she had no idea, but the sound of her own voice, quiet yet confident, gave her enough strength to meet his stare. “Had I known you were the head of the Pearson Group, I wouldn’t have bothered you.” She walked forward, acutely conscious of the material of her secondhand pants brushing against her legs as she moved to his desk and set the flower arrangement down, glass clinking on glass with a softtinkthat sounded like a gunshot in the cavernous room. “Please accept this with my compliments and my apologies for taking your time. I’ll see myself out.”
She turned and walked away, as she’d done when she’d last seen him. Both times hot tears had burned at the backs of her eyes. Both times her heart felt like it was cracking in two. But this time she didn’t want to turn around and throw herself into his arms. No, she just wanted to get as far away from him as possible.
Her hand was on the door handle when his voice rang out.
“You still have two minutes.”
Her fingers tightened on the silver handle. It took every ounce of willpower to force herself to turn around and face him again.
“Excuse me?”
He gestured to the flower arrangement. “I told Miss Elliott you had five minutes. You still have two minutes to sell me on whatever it is you came here to pitch.” Disdain flashed in his eyes as he glanced at the hyssop. “Perhaps you’re looking for investment in a wildflower farm?”
Irritation steadied her feelings. The one constant in her life had been flowers. In the precious few years she’d had with her mother before she’d passed from cancer, Amelia Waldsworth had instilled a deep and abiding love of flowers in her daughter. From the native plants that grew in the woods around her mother’s family home in upstate New York to creating bouquets filled with not just colorful blooms but also meaning, Alexandra’s early life had been filled with flowers.
It had been one of the silver linings in the mess her father had created with his fraudulent dealings. A chance to start over, to move away from the corporate event-planning degree he’d bullied her into and instead pursue her true passion.
“You have a good eye, Mr. Santos. Those are lavender giant hyssop, a native wildflower found here in New York.”
