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If I’m being honest with myself, I haven’t felt settled since…Mel.
Ironic, since her showing up at Dupont Analytics has me shaken enough to want a strong drink.
Melanie. I need to think of her as Melanie. Set a boundary right away.
What is she doing here?
Standing, I begin pacing once more, shoes echoing in the mostly-empty office.
I like it this way: minimalist. The flooring is dark, the windows reach to the ceilings, and the walls and furniture are a steel gray that complement the city of Boston outside.
She steals into my head again. The shock of seeing her, especially given the circumstances. How many times have I daydreamed about coming face-to-face with Mel—Melanie—Atkinson again? In none of those daydreams was I practically naked, but it was an added bonus seeing the heat in her eyes.
As much as it pains me to see her after the way she broke my heart all those years ago, Melanie is going to be the key to me securing Dupont Analytics.
A slow smile curves across my face for the first time today.
Roy wants to see responsible and settled? So be it.
Roy hired me as an intern ten years ago, and I feverishly worked my way up to CEO.
This company is as important to me as it is to him.
But he’ll never believe it. I’ve done too good a job of disguising my weaknesses. There’s nothing vulnerable, carefree, or “settled” about my life.
Look how far you’ve come, though.
Memories play like an aged film in shards and images: the day my dad passed away, when I was a kid; the first time I saw Mel in elementary school on the playground; moving from the house on Mulberry Road to the much smaller bungalow on Chestnut so mom could manage better; getting elected Most Likely to Succeed; asking Mel to prom and her saying yes; kissing her for the first time, the pounding in my heart.
Mel.Mel, Mel, Mel.Her name flows through my head like a prayer and I close my eyes, standing stock-still.
“Jenson?”
Every muscle in my back goes stiff. Slowly, I turn and face her—the only woman I’ve ever loved, and the only one I lost.
“Melanie.”
She skirts the edge of the office, eyeing me suspiciously. I must’ve surprised her just as much as she surprised me. Good. Catching Mel off guard might help me out with what I’m about to suggest.
She owes me.
And I’m calling in my favor.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Take a seat.”
I can’t help looking her over as I perch on the edge of the desk.
Her blouse, the way it gapes open at her throat, gives me sinful ideas.
What would eighteen-year-old me have done with a woman like this in his hands? Probably stammered and come too soon before even taking his pants off.
Now, all sorts of ideas crowd my mind. Filthy, wanton ways I could pleasure her.
I push them away. Would it be satisfying to finally have my way with Mel Atkinson, to make her beg?
Yes.
