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"You'll be talking to Knox for the article, won't you?" she asks rhetorically, her mind absently on him.
I decide to be blunt. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
Her eyes widen, betraying her feelings despite her denial. "You don't know what you're talking about."
But I see the truth in her eyes. "Your feelings for him won't change, no matter where you are. And he feels the same, doesn’t he? What's the story there, Robyn?"
She looks away, resigned. "It doesn't matter. Rachael is pushing for Knox to find his 'Mrs. Forrester,' and I'll never be that to him."
I gently squeeze her hand, offering a sympathetic ear. "What did he say to you after the meeting?"
"We haven’t talked much lately. He wants to catch up, maybe over dinner," she shares, but her hopefulness is short-lived.
"I think that's a good sign," I say, trying to be reassuring.
She shakes her head. "It's always the same with us. Just a secret."
I frown, "That's not fair to you."
"Our situation is complicated," she says, avoiding further details. "Let's focus on this outline and get you scheduled for the interviews."
I open my folder, noticing gaps in the schedule. "There's nobody listed for November and December," I point out.
She glances at the folder, then realizes, "Rachael is probably saving those spots for Reece and Talon. If Knox starts the year, they'll definitely finish it."
Her smirk doesn't hide the underlying strain of our conversation, but we turn our attention to the task at hand, leaving unspoken emotions hanging in the air.
ChapterSix
Reece
The day has been an unrelenting whirlwind, a storm of meetings and impromptu decisions. If it weren't for Kylie, with her ever-present, almost annoyingly up-beat attitude, I wouldn't have even remembered to eat. The Bachelor project still weighs heavily on my mind, but time to address it has slipped through my fingers like sand. Before I know it, Kylie's standing at my door, coat in arm, signaling the day's end.
Glancing at the clock, I'm startled to see it's already past 6:30. "No, Kylie, that's all. Sorry to keep you so late," I say, feeling a twinge of guilt. She's been a tremendous help, but I can't let that eat into her personal time.
She's almost out the door when a thought strikes me. "Wait, Kylie. Do you know if Robyn left for the day?" I ask, my mind racing back to the unresolved questions about the project.
"I think she left after lunch; said she wasn't feeling well," Kylie informs me, her voice tinged with concern.
Curious.Robyn's off-kilter demeanor has been noticeable since her return. Something to delve into later. "Okay, thanks. Try to schedule something with her tomorrow for me, will you?" I request, rubbing the bridge of my nose, feeling the onset of a headache.
"Of course, Mr. Forrester," Kylie replies dutifully.
"Reece," I correct her with a strained smile. "Just call me Reece."
With a nod, she leaves, closing the door behind her. The silence that envelops the room is a rare luxury. I stand, stretching my legs, and walk to the window, gazing out at the bustling Manhattan traffic. The city never sleeps, and neither do I, it seems.
Thinking of my bachelorhood, I muse over my mother's project. Could this absurd idea actually help me find someone? I chuckle at the thought. Right, like I need help.
Turning to my private bar, I decide it's time to unwind. Pouring myself a glass of Macallan, I call out to my virtual assistant to play some classical jazz. The soft notes fill the room, the smooth drink burning away the day's stress.
As I loosen my tie, the thought of the project returns. How will it fare in the market? Will it be a hit with our female audience or go over like a lead balloon? Marketing will need to analyze reader demographics, engagement potential, and competitors' similar ventures.
I'm about to sit down and jot notes for tomorrow’s ‘to-do list’ when a faint knock at my door catches my attention. It's too early for the cleaning crew, and I'm certain everyone else has left. Ignoring it initially, I hope they'll leave, but the persistent knock continues.
"Who is it?" I call out, irritation lacing my voice.
Instead of a response, the door opens, and there she is.Genesis.My body reacts instantly, every nerve on high alert.
