Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

EMILY’S POV

There are bad mornings and then there are mornings where the man you accidentally slept with walks into your boardroom looking like he’d stepped off the cover of a finance magazine, standing directly across from you like this was all perfectly normal.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my coffee cup halfway to my lips and my heartbeat pounding so loudly I was certain everyone in the room could hear it. The professional smile I’d carefully constructed on my way to the office felt like it was cracking at the edges.

Jace looked up the exact moment I entered and our eyes locked. Recognition flickered across his face but instead of the panic or awkwardness I’d expected, he smiled. Calm, relaxed, almost smug, like this was an elaborate game he’d already figured out how to win.

I forced myself to walk into the room even though my legs felt like jelly and my entire world had just collapsed in on itself. I couldn’t let anyone see how rattled I was, couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Miranda said brightly, her saccharine smile sweeping across the room as she gestured for everyone to take their seats.

The boardroom felt different somehow, colder and more hostile than it had during any of my previous presentations. I couldn’t tell if it was the sterile conference table, the harsh overhead lighting, or the fact that Jace was sitting directly across from me, his dark eyes tracking my every movement.

I pulled up my presentation on the projector and launched into the training overview, clicking through slides about project structure, deliverables, and milestones. My voice came out steady and professional despite the way my hands trembled slightly as I used the laser pointer. Jace took notes. His eyes never left me as I spoke, watching my lips form words, waiting for something I couldn’t quite identify.

He never interrupted, never raised his hand during the presentation itself. He just waited.

When I wrapped up the final slide, I swallowed hard and forced myself to ask, “Any questions?”

Silence stretched across the room for a beat. Then a hand rose slowly and deliberately. My stomach dropped when I realized it was Jace’s.

“May I?” he asked, his tone perfectly polite.

I gestured for him to continue, not trusting my voice to remain steady.

“Since you’re confident we’ve covered everything comprehensively,” he began, glancing down at his notes before looking back up at me. My heart did that stupid flutter thing it had no business doing. “I do have one question that’s been bothering me.”

He paused, letting the tension build.

“Why does your analysis indicate the client’s target demographic is 25-34, when the current market data shows a significant spike in the 35-44 age range?”

The boardroom went completely silent. I felt every pair of eyes swing toward me, waiting for my response. My mind raced because the horrible truth was that he was right. The data shift was significant and I’d somehow missed it or dismissed it as irrelevant when building my campaign strategy.

I swallowed hard, trying to buy myself time to formulate a response.

“We recruits are all curious to know,” Jace added, and I caught the slight smile tugging at his lips as he stared back at me. The other trainees nodded in agreement, leaning forward in their seats with genuine interest.

The silence that followed made it painfully obvious that I couldn’t brush this off as some minor detail. I had to actually explain my reasoning or admit I’d made an error in front of everyone on my first day as Senior Analyst.

“Well,” I began, clicking back to the relevant slide and walking through it with as much confidence as I could muster. “These reports have a two-week margin of error built into their projections. Their live data feed isn’t always fully accurate, especially during transition periods.”

“But I’ve cross-referenced your data with Healthspan’s regional trials,” Jace countered smoothly. “The decline appears consistent across multiple sources. Wearable interest is strong overall, but it’s clearly plateauing in urban zones, specifically within the 25-34 demographic you’re targeting.”

He wasn’t done.

“And if you look at the engagement rates from the recent pilot program in Houston, slide eight I believe,” he pointed toward the projector, “you’ll see that the 35-44 demographic had a conversion rate that was 12% higher than the younger cohort.”

I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again when I realized I didn’t have a good counterargument. He’d systematically dismantled my entire campaign strategy in less than five minutes.

God, I hated how calm he looked while doing it.

“I designed this campaign with precision based on established consumer behavior models,” I said finally, my voice cooler than I felt. “You’re analyzing isolated data fragments without understanding the broader strategic context.”

The meeting adjourned fifteen minutes later with Miranda praising the dynamic energy and robust discussion in the room. I barely heard her as I packed up my laptop with trembling hands, shoving papers into my bag with more force than necessary.

The problem wasn’t that I’d been wrong about the data, though that stung. The problem was that I’d been so focused on defending my position and proving I deserved this promotion that I’d missed obvious warning signs in the research.

I stormed out of the boardroom the moment Miranda dismissed us, my heels clicking against the tile floor like gunfire as I rushed down the hallway. I needed to get back to my office, needed space to think and regroup and figure out how to salvage this disaster of a first impression.

I didn’t even make it halfway down the corridor before I heard his voice.

“Emily!”

I spun around to find Jace leaning casually against the wall like he owned the entire building, his hands in his pockets and that infuriating calm expression still plastered across his face.

“I was only trying to make a valid point back there,” he said, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward me. “I saw a gap in the data analysis and thought it was worth addressing. For what it’s worth, you handled the rest of the presentation really well.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, Jace,” I shot back, my voice sharp. “You’re still in training and you’d do well to remember that.”

“Are you always this cold after a one-night stand?” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, the words hitting me like a physical blow.

I should have walked away. Should have said something cutting and professional that would put him back in his place. But my body didn’t get the memo because I just stood there, frozen, as his eyes scanned my face with an intensity that made my skin feel too tight.

His gaze lingered on my parted lips before dropping to the neckline of my blouse. Heat rushed to my cheeks and lower, pooling in my stomach as I felt utterly pinned under his attention.

My spine stiffened defensively. “You’re completely out of line.”

I hated how calm he remained, how the minimal distance between us felt charged with electricity. I hated that my pulse hadn’t slowed down since the moment he’d walked into that boardroom, that I could still remember exactly how his hands had felt on my bare skin.

The real problem with Jace wasn’t just that he was attractive. It was that he was genuinely good at this job, sharp and strategic in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

“You can’t seem to stop thinking about that night, can you?” he said, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

The silence between us pulled taut, tight and dangerous like a wire about to snap.

“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing,” I said quietly, gesturing between us with a sharp motion, “but whatever this is ends right here, right now.”

His expression didn’t change but his voice dropped even lower as he leaned slightly closer. “Is that what you told yourself the morning after? That it didn’t mean anything?”

My breath caught in my throat. It felt like he’d reached into my chest and yanked all the air from my lungs. My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I fought the urge to either slap him or kiss him, I wasn’t entirely sure which.

I took a step forward, closing the distance until our bodies were almost touching. “None of that meant anything,” I hissed.

Before I could come up with something more devastating to say, Miranda’s cheerful voice sliced through the tension like a knife.

“Ah, perfect timing you two,” she called out, walking toward us with that same bright smile plastered across her face. “The board members absolutely loved the insight exchange during the presentation. The kind of dynamic discourse and fresh perspectives you both brought to the table.”

My stomach sank as I realized where this was heading.

“So we’ve decided,” Miranda continued, looking positively delighted with herself, “to pair you both as co-leads for the full relaunch of phase two of the Healthspan campaign.”

My eyes widened in horror. “I’m sorry, what?“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​