Chapter 3: The Past

"David, what are you even talking about?" I blurted out, pushing my chair back just an inch. The expensive wine suddenly tasted like copper in my mouth. "Where is this coming from? I’m so confused."David didn't blink. He just sat there, watching me with that same unreadable expression."You're acting like I'm some... prize," I continued, my voice rising as the absurdity of the day finally boiled over. "I remember the company anniversary last year at the Palace Hotel. I was coming out of the restroom, the hallway was packed, and I accidentally bumped into you. My hand brushed your backside as I tried to squeeze past. You looked at me with such pure disgust, David. You looked like I had physically violated you. You didn't speak to me for a month after that."I leaned forward, my hands flat on the table. "So don't sit here in a closed restaurant and tell me you’ve been 'curating' me. What exactly are you telling me right now? Because none of this adds up."David set his wine glass down with a slow, deliberate click. For the first time, I saw a flicker of something human in his eyes—not disgust this time, but a strange, sharp flash of embarrassment that he quickly masked with a cold smile."I looked at you like that because I was terrified," he said, his voice raw. "You didn't just 'brush past' me, Charles. You touched me, and for the first time in a decade, I felt something I couldn't control. I didn't pull away because I was disgusted. I pulled away because I was standing there in a five-thousand-dollar suit, in front of my board of directors, with a physical reaction I couldn't hide."I froze. The implication hit me like a physical blow. "You're saying you got...""I was hard before you even finished saying 'excuse me,'" David snapped, the bluntness of it cutting through the luxury of the room. "I spent the next month ignoring you because every time you walked into a room, I could still feel exactly where your hand had been. I had to be a prick, Charles. It was the only way I knew how to stay the boss."I sat back, the Dungeness crab turning to lead in my stomach. This wasn't about a career path. This wasn't about a CEO and a manager. This was a thirty-seven-year-old man realizing his entire professional reality for the last few years had been a carefully constructed lie designed to keep one man’s obsession at bay."My father called me today," David continued, his eyes locked on mine with a desperate intensity. "Because he saw the security footage of you walking out. He knows I’m a heartbeat away from burning the whole company down just to follow you into that Jeep."I forced myself to take a breath. I looked up—way up—at the man across from me. David Black was a force of nature. At 6'11", he was a literal giant, a man who had to duck through standard doorways and whose presence made even a spacious restaurant feel small. He was devastatingly handsome, with a self-made fortune that made his father’s money look like pocket change.He could have anyone. So why me?"I need you to be honest with me," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline. "When exactly did this start? And what is this, David? Is it just lust? Or something else? What do you see in a Senior Manager who just wants to go home to his dogs?"David leaned back, his massive frame shifting in the booth. Even sitting down, he loomed over the table. He set his glass down, his movements surprisingly graceful for a man of his size."It started four years ago," he said, his voice a low rumble that I could feel in my chest. "At that SPCA auction. You didn't know I was watching, but I saw you spend three hours on the floor with that terrified Great Dane. Everyone else was networking, trying to get my attention, but you... you were just there for the dog. You didn't even care that you were ruining a two-thousand-dollar suit."He leaned in, his shadow stretching across the entire table."It’s not just lust, Charles. It’s the fact that you’re the only person I’ve met who has a spine made of steel and a heart that actually beats. I’ve spent my life surrounded by people who want to be near me because of my height or my bank account. You’re the only one who looks me in the eye and sees a man, not a monument."He paused, his gaze intense."I’ve been 'curating' your life because I didn't know how to handle someone like you. I made sure you were paid well. I made sure you were protected. And when I saw you walk out today because of that VP’s mouth, I realized I’d rather burn the company to the ground than let you walk away from me for good."This revelation hit me harder than the motorcade, the empty restaurant, or his height combined. The pieces of the puzzle didn't just click; they slammed into place with the weight of twenty-seven years.I stared at him, really looking past the tailored suit and the billionaire persona. I looked at the line of his jaw and that specific, intense way he watched me. Suddenly, I wasn't in a booth at Gary Danko. I was ten years old, sitting on a sun-drenched park bench."The park," I whispered, the memory flooding back in high definition. "The park near the old district. You were... you were that little boy."I remembered him clearly now. Even at nine, he’d been tall for his age, lanky and upset. His father, Xavier—long before he was a 'shark'—was a frantic young employee, sprinting across the grass after a toddler with pigtails."Sydney," I said, the name tasting like childhood. "Your sister. She was wearing a yellow dress. And you... you were crying because you wanted a Crunch bar, and your dad had to tell you 'not today.'"