Once Upon a Heartbreak

5 - Jonas

The second Clara steps into my office, I can see it—the shock, the confusion, the desperate attempt to keep her cool. She's trying to mask it, but I know her too well. The slight tremble in her hands, the forced smile that doesn't reach her eyes—it's all there, plain as day. And honestly? I can't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.

It's not like I'm some sadist who enjoys seeing her squirm, but after the way she left—without a word, without giving me a chance to explain—there's something gratifying about watching her struggle to keep it together. She's off balance, and I'm not above enjoying it, just a little.

She stammers out a greeting, her voice higher than I remember, almost too bright. I gesture to the chair across from me, watching as she walks over with that same graceful stride. But there's tension in every step, in the way she holds herself. She's trying to appear calm and collected, but I can see the cracks.

As she sits down, I notice how tightly she's gripping her portfolio, knuckles white against the leather. She's nervous, and it's obvious. I lean back in my chair, giving her a moment to compose herself, but inside, I'm savoring the discomfort she's trying so hard to hide.

It's strange, seeing her again after all these years. She looks the same, but different—better, if I'm being honest. Her raven hair is just as sleek as I remember, framing that face that used to keep me up at night. Those green eyes, though—there's something new in them. A guardedness, a wall that wasn't there before. And damn if it doesn't make her even more attractive, though I hate to admit it.

I can't help but wonder what's going through her head. Is she remembering the last time we saw each other? Does she regret leaving the way she did? Part of me wants to drag it all out into the open, to confront her right here and now, but I hold back. This is business, after all. We're professionals.

"Shall we get started?" I say, keeping my tone even, though there's a smirk threatening at the corners of my mouth. Watching her squirm is more satisfying than I'd like to admit.

She nods, still too stiff, too controlled, and opens her portfolio. But I see the way her hands are shaking, the way her eyes dart over the pages without really seeing them. She's rattled, and I'm enjoying every second of it.

As we go over the campaign details, I can't help but admire her. Despite her obvious discomfort, she's holding it together, walking me through the plans with that sharp mind I used to respect. But there's no denying that she's thrown, and why wouldn't she be? She's back in the last place she expected to find me, in a role she probably never imagined I'd take on. It's got to be messing with her, and frankly, I'm glad. She walked away without looking back, left me with nothing but unanswered questions and a broken heart. A little discomfort on her end is the least she deserves.

As she talks, my mind drifts back to the past, to what we had before it all went to hell. We were good together, weren't we? Or at least, I thought we were. But she walked out without letting me explain, without even trying to understand. That stung more than anything.

And now she's here, back in my life, if only for a few days. Part of me wants to confront her, to demand answers, but I know better. Not yet, anyway. For now, I'll just sit back and watch her squirm, knowing she's just as uncomfortable as I was all those years ago.

"Your plan looks solid," I say finally, leaning forward, pretending to scrutinize the documents she's laid out. "But there are a few details I'd like to go over."

She meets my gaze, those green eyes flashing with a hint of anxiety before she quickly masks it. "Of course," she says, her voice steadier now, but I can still hear the tension beneath it.

I let the silence stretch a beat longer than necessary, just to keep her on edge, before continuing. "There's a local restaurant nearby that serves dishes made with our products. I think it'd be good for you to experience them firsthand—get a real taste of what our brand stands for."

Her eyes widen slightly, and I can see the hesitation, the wariness behind that polite smile. She wasn't expecting this, wasn't expecting me to drag this out. "That sounds... like a good idea," she replies, but I can tell she's anything but comfortable with it.

"Great," I say, standing up and walking around the desk, enjoying the way her tension spikes. "Let's meet there tonight at seven. I'll have Anna send you the details."

She nods, trying to keep it together, but I can see the strain, the way her breathing is just a bit too fast. I'm pushing her, and I know it. But I want to see how far she can go, how much she can handle before she cracks.

As we wrap up, I see the relief in her eyes, the way she practically bolts out of my office the second we're done. I watch her go, a small, satisfied smile playing on my lips.

Tonight's going to be very interesting.