Make It Known

Chapter 4: Time To Pretend

Chapter 4: Time To Pretend

there is really nothing / nothing we can do

love must be forgotten / life can always start up anew

we were fated to pretend

***

At 2:30 that afternoon, I stare at the door of Gavin's office. The shutters on the large glass walls are drawn shut from the inside.

Tiffany sits at her desk and gives me a small smile. "Go ahead, Melanie. He's expecting you."

Oh, I bet he is.

I give her a small smile, not betraying a sign of my inner turmoil. I knock softly on the door, and a low voice calls out, "Come in."

My hand is almost shaking as I clasp the knob, turning it and pushing open the heavy door. I shut it behind me and don't meet his eyes as I walk towards the desk he sits at against the far wall.

His office is bright and modern and much bigger than I thought it would be. Behind him, floor-to-ceiling windows expose an incredible view of downtown Toronto, fifteen floors in the air.

The opposite end of his office has a couple couches, a coffee table. Fuck, this situation is way too awkward for me to be admiring his furniture.

He doesn't say anything, not a welcome or a greeting, no invitation to take a seat.

I slowly pull out the chair across from him at his broad, solid desk, slipping into it. I sit up straight, and I can feel my legs trembling beneath me.

The silence between us is heavy and awkward and deafening. Without my permission, my eyes slide upwards to finally look at him. Shit. He is so damn handsome. Unbelievably, impossibly gorgeous.

I watch him watch me, his hands resting casually in front of him on the desk. For some reason, just a quick glance at those large, rough palms reminds me of the kinds of blissful trouble they committed against my willing body two nights ago. I'm sure my face is flushed.

His sharp, bright blue eyes take me in whole. We study each other for a long time. I notice his perfectly styled hair. Brown, with streaks of gold where the light hits. It was a lot messier at the bar. His powder-blue shirt and tie makes him look so professional, unlike his casual t-shirt from the other night.

The expression on his face is unreadable. He looks at me thoughtfully, unblinking.

I watch him like a hawk, trying to read his mind. I wonder what the hell he's thinking about as he studies me. If he remembers the way I looked, naked and whimpering beneath him. Stop it. Stop thinking about that.

"Melanie," he breathes finally, and the sound of my name in that rough voice sends shivers down my traitorous spine. "What the hell am I going to do with you?" The bizarreness of this entire situation fills his tone with a wry uncertainty.

My eyebrows furrow, wrinkles capturing my forehead. I shake my head a little, willing with every part of me for him to understand, for him to show some mercy. "Please. I've worked very, very hard to get here, Gav—Mr. Stone."

Amusement flashes briefly across his eyes as I stumble over my words. "You remembered my name this time," he observes plainly, a small, rough chuckle escaping his lips.

Bastard. I can feel the heat flood my face, more memories from Friday quickly coming back to haunt me.

For a second, I thought we could pretend that the other night didn't happen. But I was clearly mistaken.