You Haven't Changed

Bella’s POV

Around noon, Tessa appeared beside my desk.

“Lunch?”

“Is that an invitation or an instruction?”

“An invitation. I save the instructions for when you start making mistakes.”

“Comforting.”

I saved my work and followed her downstairs.

While we waited for our food, she asked what had made me apply to Ashford Technologies.

“I've always been interested in technology. I want to understand how companies build things, how systems work, and how the right decisions can change the way a business operates.”

“Well, you're in the right place to learn.”

“That's the plan.”

“And don't worry about getting everything right immediately. Nobody expects you to know the whole company on your first day.”

“Tell that to my boss.”

Tessa laughed. “I'm beginning to think you two have history.”

I nearly choked on my drink.

“We went to school together.”

“You knew Dorian before you applied?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Was he always this charming?”

“No. He's actually gotten worse.”

Tessa laughed, drawing a glance from the woman at the next table.

“Most people are too intimidated by him to say things like that,” she said.

“Then most people have more sense than I do.”

“Maybe. But I think he'll appreciate having someone around who isn't afraid to disagree with him.”

I wasn't so sure about that.

When we returned upstairs, I found a message from Dorian asking me to bring a folder into his office.

He was seated behind his desk, his jacket draped over his chair and his sleeves rolled to his forearms. I placed the folder in front of him.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

I waited.

“Was there something else?” he asked.

“No. I was waiting in case you needed anything.”

“I'll let you know if I do.”

“Right.”

I turned to leave.

“Bella?”

I stopped again.

“You can relax. I'm not going to bite you.”

“I wasn't worried about that.”

“Good. I don't think Human Resources has a form for it.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. His expression shifted, and I realised he'd been trying to get that reaction.

“Don't get too comfortable, Mr. Ashford. I charge extra for laughing at your jokes.”

“Put it on your next invoice.”

“I'll have to start keeping a list.”

“I look forward to reviewing it.”

I shook my head and returned to my desk, still fighting a smile.

Working for Dorian Ashford was going to be a problem. Beneath the polished suits and infuriating confidence was the boy who had once made it his personal mission to get a reaction out of me.

I remembered one afternoon in our final year of school when he'd decided that my perfect record needed a little damage.

I'd spent the whole morning preparing for a class presentation, determined to prove I could do more than lead the cheerleading squad and look good doing it. My notes were organised, my slides were ready, and I'd even rehearsed my opening in front of my bedroom mirror.

Then I walked into class and found Dorian leaning against my desk, wearing the kind of innocent expression that never meant anything good.

“Morning, princess,” he'd said.

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?”

“Why assume I've done anything?”

“Because you're standing next to my presentation laptop and smiling like an idiot.”

His grin widened. “You wound me, Marlowe.”

I ignored him, connected my laptop, and opened my presentation. The first slide appeared on the screen, except it wasn't the title I'd prepared. It was a ridiculous photograph of me from a school sports day, caught mid-shout with my ponytail flying and my face twisted in outrage.

The class erupted in laughter.

I turned slowly towards him.

Dorian had the audacity to look pleased with himself.

“You have five seconds to fix that,” I told him.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Four.”

He laughed, reached for the keyboard, and restored my presentation just as our teacher walked in. I'd wanted to throw something at him. Instead, I delivered my presentation flawlessly, answered every question, and earned the highest mark in the class.

Afterward, he'd caught up with me in the corridor.

“Not bad, Marlowe.”

“I'm devastated that I couldn't disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me that easily.”

I'd rolled my eyes and walked away, refusing to let him see how much that strange little compliment had pleased me.

That was how it had always been between us. He pushed, I pushed back. He found ways to get under my skin, and I made it my mission to prove he couldn't get the better of me. Neither of us ever admitted when the other had won.

Apparently, that part of him hadn't changed. And neither had my habit of giving him exactly what he wanted.

---

By five thirty, my feet hurt, and I had a much better understanding of my new job. I checked the following day's schedule, shut down my computer, and collected the file from my drawer.

I was about to leave when Dorian's office door opened.

“Heading home?”

“Unless there's a reason I shouldn't.”

“None that I can think of.”

“Wonderful. We're making progress.”

He stepped into the corridor with his phone and a slim folder.

“Remember to review the file tonight. I'd rather you came back with two useful observations than ten guesses.”

“I know the difference.”

“I suspect you do.”

“Eight o'clock,” he reminded me.

“I'll be here.”

“I know, Bella.”

He was turning back towards his office when he called my name again.

“Something else?” I asked.

“Actually, yes.”

I waited.

He studied me for a moment. “You were right about one thing today.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Only one?”

“Don't push your luck.”

“There he is.”

His mouth curved into a proper smile, the kind I remembered from school, when he'd just won an argument or was about to start one.

“You haven't changed as much as you think, Bella.”

Before I could reply, he stepped back into his office.

“Good night.”

His door closed.

I stood there, trying to decide what annoyed me more: that he'd got the last word or that he'd managed to make me smile while doing it.

I headed for the lift, reminding myself that this job was an opportunity I'd worked hard for. I wasn't going to let an old rivalry distract me from it.

But as the lift doors closed, his words came back to me.

You haven't changed as much as you think.

Maybe he was right.

The more troubling question was why he seemed so certain he still knew me.