CHAPTER 8: After the Meeting

I lasted exactly forty-five minutes in that conference room before I had to escape.

"Excuse me," I muttered to no one in particular, grabbing my phone and practically fleeing into the hallway.

The bathroom. I needed the bathroom. Or a window to jump out of. Either would work.

I found the women's restroom two doors down and locked myself in a stall, pressing my back against the cool metal door. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.

Alexander Sterling was James's father.

I'd slept with James's father.

The man who'd held me while I slept, who'd asked if I was okay at every step, who'd made me feel safe—was the father of the man who'd destroyed me.

How was this my life?

My phone buzzed. Sarah, of course.

SARAH: How's it going? Is he there? Have you talked to him?

I couldn't even begin to respond. Instead, I leaned my head back against the stall door and tried to remember how to breathe.

The bathroom door opened. Heels clicked on tile.

"Bella?" A woman's voice. Claire, I thought. "Are you okay? You ran out pretty fast."

"I'm fine," I called back, trying to sound normal. "Just needed a minute."

"Okay, well... meeting's wrapping up. James wants to meet with all the Martinez people individually this afternoon. You're scheduled for three o'clock."

Great. Perfect. Exactly what I needed—a one-on-one with my ex-boyfriend who was also my new boss who was also the son of the man I'd slept with a week ago.

"Thanks," I managed.

Claire's heels clicked away. The door swung shut.

I stayed in the stall for another five minutes, giving myself a stern mental pep talk. I could do this. I was a professional. I would walk out of this bathroom, go to my temporary desk, do my work, and pretend everything was fine.

It was just one night. It meant nothing. Alexander clearly wanted to forget it happened—he'd barely looked at me during the meeting. And James didn't know. Nobody knew.

I could keep it that way.

I unlocked the stall, washed my hands, fixed my hair in the mirror. The woman staring back at me looked pale but composed. Professional. Like someone who definitely hadn't slept with her boss a week ago.

"You've got this," I told my reflection.

My reflection looked unconvinced.

I stepped out of the bathroom and nearly collided with a wall of expensive suit.

Alexander.

He caught my arm to steady me, his hand warm through my blouse, and for one second we were touching and every memory from that night came flooding back.

"Isabella." His voice was low. Rough.

"Mr. Sterling." I pulled my arm free, taking a step back. "Sorry, I didn't see you."

We stood in the empty hallway, staring at each other. Up close, I could see the strain in his jaw. The tension in his shoulders. He looked as wrecked as I felt.

"We need to talk," he said quietly.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"My office. Now." It wasn't a request.

"I have work—"

"Isabella." The way he said my name—not Bella, but Isabella, the way he'd said it that night—made something in my chest twist. "Please."

I glanced around. The hallway was empty, but that didn't mean anything. Someone could appear at any moment. Someone could see us. Someone could wonder why the CEO was talking privately to a brand new employee.

"Five minutes," I said.

He turned without a word, expecting me to follow. I did, staying a careful three feet behind him. Professional distance. Appropriate distance.

The elevator ride to the executive floor was silent and excruciating. We stood on opposite sides of the car, not looking at each other. The air between us was thick with everything unsaid.

His office was on the 45th floor—corner suite, floor-to-ceiling windows, view of the entire city. The kind of office that screamed power and wealth and everything I wasn't.

"Close the door," he said, moving to stand by the windows, his back to me.

I closed it, staying near the exit. Giving myself an out.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

"I didn't know," I said finally. "About James. About you being his father. I swear, I didn't know."

"I believe you." He turned to face me. "James never mentioned you by name. He just said his ex-girlfriend worked at Martinez Marketing. And you—"

"I didn't know your last name. You said Alex. Just Alex."

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect styling. It made him look more like the man from the hotel. Less CEO, more human. "Christ, Isabella. What are the odds?"

"I don't know. Bad ones."

"Very bad ones." He moved closer, then stopped himself. Maintaining that professional distance. "That night at the bar—you said you'd found your boyfriend with two other women."

"That was James."

His jaw clenched. "And you came to the hotel—"

"Right after. Yes." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I didn't know where else to go. And then you were there, and you were kind, and I just—" I stopped. "I made a mistake."

"A mistake." His voice was flat.

"What else would you call it?"

"I don't know." He looked at me with those storm-grey eyes. "But mistake feels wrong."

"It was one night, Alexander. It didn't mean anything."

"Didn't it?"

The question hung between us.

"It can't mean anything," I said instead. "You're James's father. You're my boss—technically. And I—I can't do this. Any of this."

"So what do you suggest? You quit?"

"Maybe."

"No." The word was sharp. Final. "You earned your position here. You're talented. I've read your file—your work at Martinez was exceptional. You're not going to throw that away because of one night."

"One night that happened with you!"

"I'm aware." He moved to his desk, putting furniture between us. Creating that distance again. "Which is why we're going to handle this professionally. That night never happened. We've never met before today. You're an employee, I'm the CEO. Clean slate."

"Can we do that?" I asked. "Pretend?"

"We don't have a choice."

He was right. Of course he was right. But the thought of pretending—of acting like that night meant nothing when it had felt like everything—made something ache in my chest.

"What about James?" I asked.

"What about him?"

"He's going to make this difficult. He already is. Did you see him in there? He was enjoying it. Making sure everyone knew we dated."

"James enjoys making people uncomfortable. It's one of his less endearing qualities." Alexander's tone suggested he had a long list of his son's failings. "I'll handle James."

"By doing what? You can't fire him. He's your son."

"I can limit his access to you. Which I've already started doing by restructuring the reporting system."

"He's going to question that."

"Let him." Alexander's voice was cold. CEO voice. "I don't answer to James."

I studied him. This man who'd been so gentle with me a week ago now looked hard and remote. Untouchable. Like the Alexander Sterling from the photos.

"This is going to be complicated," I said quietly.

"I know."

"People might talk. Wonder why you're protecting me."

"Let them wonder. You're a talented employee who deserves respect. That's all anyone needs to know."

"And the truth?"

"The truth," he said, meeting my eyes, "is that we're two adults who had one night together before we knew who each other was. That's all. Ancient history."

Ancient history. Right.

Except it didn't feel ancient. It felt immediate and raw and dangerously present.

"Okay," I said. "Professional. Clean slate. It never happened."

"It never happened," he repeated.

We stared at each other across his expensive office. The city glittered behind him through those massive windows. We could have been strangers.

We should have been strangers.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Sterling?"

"No, Ms. Martinez. You're dismissed."

The formality of it stung more than it should have.

I turned to leave, my hand on the doorknob, when his voice stopped me.

"Isabella."

I looked back. He was still by his desk, but something in his expression had softened. Just slightly.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm sorry. That you had to find out this way. That the situation is—complicated."

"Me too."

"And Bella?" He'd never called me Bella before. Only Isabella. The nickname sounded strange in his voice. Intimate. "If James gives you any trouble—any at all—you come to me. Directly. Understand?"

"That might look suspicious."

"I don't care how it looks. If he tries anything, I want to know."

The protectiveness in his voice made that ache in my chest worse.

"Okay."

I left before I could say something stupid. Like thank you. Or I can't stop thinking about that night. Or please tell me you feel this too.

The elevator ride back down felt endless. When the doors finally opened on the marketing floor, I took a deep breath and stepped out.

Back to reality. Back to being Bella Martinez, new employee, definitely not someone who'd slept with the CEO.

Claire was at her desk and waved me over. "Hey! How'd it go? You were gone for a while."

"Fine. Just—getting oriented."

"James is looking for you. Something about your three o'clock being moved up to two. He's in Conference Room B."

Of course he was. Because my day wasn't complicated enough already.

"Thanks."

Conference Room B was smaller than the one we'd used for the meeting. More intimate. Just a table for six and a whiteboard.

James was already there, leaning against the table with that smile that used to make my heart race. Now it just made my stomach turn.

"Bella. Close the door."

"I'd rather leave it open."

"I said close the door." His smile sharpened. "Unless you want everyone to hear what I have to say?"

Slowly, I closed the door. But I stayed near it. Ready to leave if I needed to.

"So," James said, settling into a chair and gesturing for me to sit. I didn't. "This is unexpected. You working here."

"I could say the same about you."

"Oh, come on. You had to know Sterling Corporation was my dad's company."

"Actually, I didn't. You never talked about your dad. Just vague mentions of 'the family business.'"

That was true. In three years, James had rarely mentioned his father. I'd met his mother once—an unpleasant experience involving thinly veiled criticisms of my background. But his father had been a ghost. Always working. Always absent.

"Well, surprise." James spread his arms. "Now we're colleagues. Won't that be fun?"

"It'll be professional."

"Professional. Right." He stood, moving closer. I held my ground even though every instinct screamed at me to back away. "Here's the thing, Bella. I know you. And I know when you're hiding something."

My heart stopped. "I'm not hiding anything."

"No?" He studied my face. "You seem nervous. More than usual. And the way Dad changed the reporting structure out of nowhere—that's not like him. He doesn't make impulsive decisions."

"Maybe he just recognized that having your ex-girlfriend report to you would be inappropriate."

"Maybe." James didn't sound convinced. "Or maybe something else happened. Something you're not telling me."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Yet." He smiled. "But I'll figure it out. I always do."

The threat was clear. He was going to dig. Going to poke at this until he found something.

And if he found out about that night—

"There's nothing to figure out," I said firmly. "I'm here to do a job. That's all."

"We'll see." He moved past me to the door, close enough that I had to press against the wall to avoid contact. "Oh, and Bella? Welcome to Sterling Corporation. I have a feeling you're going to love it here."

He left me alone in the conference room, my heart pounding.

This was a nightmare. An actual nightmare.

James was suspicious. Alexander was trying to maintain distance. And I was caught in the middle, trying to pretend that one perfect night had never happened.

My phone buzzed.

SARAH: So??? How did it go???

I stared at the message. How did I even begin to explain?

ME: It's complicated. I'll tell you tonight.

SARAH: Is he hot in person?

ME: Sarah.

SARAH: Answer the question!

ME: Yes. Too hot. And it's a disaster.

SARAH: Can't wait to hear this story.

I pocketed my phone and headed back to my temporary desk. I had work to do. Reports to read. Strategies to develop. A career to build.

I could do this. I could keep my head down and do my job and ignore the way my heart raced every time I thought about Alexander Sterling.

I had to.

Because the alternative—acknowledging what that night had meant, what he still made me feel—would destroy everything.

And I'd already been destroyed once this month.

I wasn't ready to go through it again.