Chapter 1
Author’s Note: Before you start reading, please note that this book only contains the first four chapters as sample.
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Chapter 1
“Mr. King will be with you in a minute.” A tall woman with black, straight hair gave her a once over with a slightly displeased pout but hid it instantly, continuing with a forced smile. “He’s sorry for the delay, but please, have a seat; someone will bring you coffee while you wait.” She gestured to the seats in the lounge before returning to her own behind the reception desk, and started clacking up a storm on the computer, ignoring her presence.
Which delay was he apologizing for? Mia wondered, a little frustrated.
Her two-inch heels made no sound on the rich oriental carpet as she decided to look around the lounge, too nervous to sit down. The room was spacious, all modern chrome and glass. The walls were decorated with different kinds of abstract paintings and modern art. She wandered a bit, observing the art from various artists, but a Renaissance scene grabbed her attention for a bit, making her wonder about his taste in art. She lingered there a little, then moved on to a billboard touting the company’s accomplishments. The name pierced her like a startling scream.
Alien, yet familiar.
Right there, yet so far away.
Gymnosperms. Angiosperms.
She nervously repeated botany terms in her head to stay calm and sighed, tamping down her apprehension, Then, as her eyes rolled towards the heavens for courage they were drawn to the well-lit crystal chandelier, bedazzling and smug, casting an otherworldly glow on the room.
‘Just as lavish as its owner’.
She was counting the crystal, but her admiring session came to a halt as someone entered and left a coffee cup on the table.
Walking over, she picked up her cup and stood in front of the full-length glass window, observing her reflection in it.
She didn’t look half bad, Mia thought, adjusting her black, square-rimmed glasses. She was in her best rose-colored dress, which wasn’t exactly va-va-voom stunning, but practical and pretty enough. Her flyaway hair was restrained in a sensible bun, and the minimal makeup she wore to cover up her freckles wasn’t smudged.
She looked calm and controlled, but it was everything she wasn’t feeling today.
Conifers. Cycads.
She busied her mind again, going over the members of the tree family, a neat trick she’d come up with to settle her nerves before tests.
How long has it been? Two years and nine… no, almost ten months now.
Long enough that he was practically a stranger.
“Ma’am, you can go in now.” She whirled around to see a red, manicured nail pointing right to the hallway. “Last door at the end,” the receptionist said in a cold voice, then ignored her and returned back to the clackety-clack sound indicating she resumed her typing.
She tossed away her paper cup in a trash can and strode along the hallway. At the end of it, she came across an extravagantly designed door that ran from ceiling to floor. And those walls weren’t standard either; stretching at least double, if not triple the average height, making the plaque that read CEO appear more daunting than a dare off a bridge.
She tapped on the solid door, the noise ringing out, sounding larger than life, echoing down the hallway.
Maidenhair. Hardwoods.
“Come in.”
Even though she heard his voice after nearly three years, she couldn’t mistake the deep baritone. Panic gripped her.
Relax. Focus. Breathe.
She tried to take big deep breaths, telling herself this wasn’t the time or place to second guess herself.
As she took a fortifying deep breath, the door flung open, and she came face to face with him.
Damian King.
He was now a stranger, this man. His features were sharp, face angular.
“Mia!” His eyes gleamed. “Please, come in.”
She was taken aback by how much he had changed. The college playboy had finally grown into his features of prominent masculinity. A sharp jaw that rivaled Henry Cavill’s was shaded with light stubble. But those golden eyes of strict clarity held her in a trance with a calculating gleam she hadn’t seen before.
She stuck her hand out for a shake, and at the same time, he moved forward to hug her. Their awkward hug-shake lasted for a brief moment, but she could hear the smile in Damian’s voice as he said, “Hey, hold on.”
She was pulled against his solid chest, and in that small moment it gave her a sense of false security. She didn’t want to hug this strange man, nor wanted her brain turning fuzzy as the earthy cologne tingled her olfactory buds, stirring a dormant desire deep within.
However, before she could voice her objection, he led her into his office, draping her arm with his.
A consummate gentleman.
The door closed behind them as she stepped into the spacious office, a totally different world away from hers.
Gingkos. Ferns.
She had to be in charge of her emotions and needed to ignore the fluttering of her heart. This was a business transaction, a long-overdue one, brought forth for a speedy conclusion.
He led her to the seating area, and she settled on a couch, tucking her dress underneath. Her eyes traveled around, taking in the surroundings. The first thing she noted was a spacious office with enormous glass windows overlooking the stunning downtown view. The oak desk occupying the center had a slightly displaced leather swivel chair behind it. The seating area consisted of the couch that she currently occupied and a couple of armchairs, where he was standing, propping his elbows on the back of the chair and looking at her with a small smile. She averted her gaze, glancing at the rug between her feet, not knowing where else to look. She couldn’t afford to fall under his spell again.
“I’ll call for coffee,” Damian spoke and turned his sly smile into a smirk before striding to his desk. She took that time to look at him. Really look at him. His suit looked expensive, probably custom-made. His brown hair stood out at odd angles like he had been running his fingers through it. He looked fit, though, scrawny even. Not the athletic, exuberant boy he had once been as a teen, but a man who moved with purpose and elegance. His face was somber and not as soft as in his youth. Definitely not the same mischievous boy she had hung out with as a kid.
Those tawny/golden eyes that used to be filled with such warmth and life were now sharp and focused, directed at her like she was prey. Realizing she got caught staring, she looked away.
“You look lovely, Mia. So much prettier than I remember.” He said, looking as if he was deep in thought.
Did he remember? Did he think about her over the past three years? Did he know the uncountable number of times she had thought of him? How many days and unending nights she spent remembering his words, expressions, and nuances? How many hours, minutes, and seconds she waited around like a fool for him to call?
He didn’t seem beholden to the past, nor was the least bit discomfited by her reappearance in his life. Maybe she wasn’t any more important than the couch she was sitting on.
He had always been suave and glib. No reason for him to change now.
“Thanks,” the small reply fell from her lips. She didn’t think his compliment was sincere, but a flush of pleasure tingled inside her. She had dressed to impress after all.
This time, he gave her a sincere smile and picked up the phone to order. “I already had coffee.” She replied, clearing her throat, stopping him in the middle.
“Can I get you anything else, then?” She shook her head no, so he returned to her, settling in the armchair across from the couch. Again, she felt his expectant gaze boring into her with the intensity of a laser, trying to expose what was hidden inside her mind.
Now would probably be a good time to say everything she came to say. She’d gone over the lines she memorized and gathered her courage, trying to remember if there was anything to recall. But, then, her carefully thought-out speech had suddenly flown out of her head, and she looked around, trying to compose herself.
Fronds on the fern next to the couch. The Latin name, Dryopteris intermedia. Commonly known as the Intermediate or Fancy Wood Fern.
She had to say something to fill the awkward silence as she fiddled with the strap of her purse.
Eudicots. Monocotyledons. Magnoliids.
“You’re doing well,” was all she managed in the end, though quite lamely. Then the unfortunate, ‘I’m glad’, came out as practiced.
The past rippled unseen in the space between them, the sudden marriage, his immediate departure to Johannesburg, where he had stayed away for a long time. She hadn’t expected him to leave, but she always knew he would come back. However, she never had thought it would take years. And one day, she would have to track him down and, of all places, in his office.
“I was expecting something beyond the pleasantries. But I’m glad you aren’t chucking things at my head.” He straightened and leaned forward with elbows on his knees, giving her the opening she needed.
“So, tell me, Mrs. King, what brings you here?”
