Echo(4)

A strange looking metal sculpture caught my eye, and I almost reached out to touch it. But then I reminded myself that probably wasn’t appropriate.

Five minutes later, as I sat presumptuously in front of the desk, I decided to forgo that thought. Three round marble paperweights in front of me were too shiny to resist. They weren’t actually holding down any paper but lined up like ducks in a row. That should have been my first clue.

“Miss Valentine.”

I jumped at the voice behind me, instinctively jerking the paperweight and making it clatter to the floor. I retrieved it with a shaky hand and set it back on the desk before swiveling around in my seat.

When my gaze swept across the room, my mouth fell open, and out tumbled what remained of my decorum.

 Those eyes.

My fingers flexed and curled in my lap as I stared at the peculiar shade of gunmetal blue. The same shade that had haunted me for the last five years. God, they were even more beautiful than I remembered. But they looked different somehow. Colder. They swept over me without recognition, and I died a little inside. What was he doing here?

I swallowed as I stood on shaky legs and gave him a small smile. Perhaps I looked different… perhaps it would take him a minute to remember. It was dark that night… and yet I could still recall every detail of his face.

Those details hardened over time, making him even more masculine than I remembered. His hair was just a shade shy of black, and it accented his eyes beautifully. He was clean cut and everything about him was perfect. Too perfect, almost. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair while I kissed along his jaw line. I briefly wondered if he still wore the same cologne, and if I were to bury my nose in his neck, if that was the scent I would find there.

There was something seriously wrong with me. But for five long years I’d thought of this man. Of his kiss, his touch, his broken promises. And now that I faced his careless indifference, I questioned if I had somehow imagined it all.

I watched his eyes eagerly, but recognition never sparked. He stalked around to the other side of his desk and gave me a business-like smile.

 “Why don’t you have a seat,” he suggested. “I’m sorry I was running behind.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach, and I wasn’t sure why. His voice was warm, professional even. The way an employer should be. But that wasn’t what I wanted.

I took a seat and crossed my legs, not sure what else to do with them. He straightened a few things on his desk before eyeing the marble paperweight I had disrupted earlier. It clearly bothered him that it was no longer in a perfect line, and yet he refrained from straightening it. That was something that hadn’t changed at least. He paid attention to everything. Noticed every detail. So why didn’t he remember me?

I swallowed and bobbed my heel up and down as I waited for him to speak. He grabbed a folder from the top of his desk and started rifling through some paperwork, and I used the opportunity to study him discreetly.

Success looked good on him. He wore dark wash jeans and a gray blazer with an open collared dress shirt beneath. Smart and casual. Every time he moved, the fabric stretched across his chest, giving me a little glimpse of the muscular power that lay beneath. He loomed larger than my memory had done him justice, standing at around six feet at least. Now fully grown, I only stood at five foot one myself. My height and hair color had always hindered my ability to blend in, or at least I had thought.

The temperature in the room didn’t improve when he swung his gaze back to me. He appraised every inch of me with a neutral expression before he scanned my resume with obvious disinterest. I’d never felt so small, so unsure. I had no idea what to do or say in this situation, and I even found myself questioning the way I sat.

Yet, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. The tension was still there between us even now. I could feel it, so why couldn’t he?

 “You don’t have much experience,” he observed.

I shrunk back into my chair and closed myself off, trying to dispel the bitter taste in my mouth. While I had been busy fantasizing about this man who didn’t even remember me, all he could say was how little I had to offer him. I may have been five years older, but I wasn’t any wiser. This was my golden opportunity, and it was swirling down the drain with every passing moment.

I searched my mind desperately for the right thing to say, anything that could salvage this chance, but I was coming up short. And the longer I sat there, not speaking, the more awkward things got between us.

“I’m a fresh canvas,” I blurted. “You can do what you like with me.”

The minute I’d said the words I was mortified, and my cheeks burned in agreement. Ryland sank into his leather chair, drumming his fingers across the white surface of his desk while he studied me. His eyes darted to the marble paperweight twice more, but he still didn’t touch it.

It only served to remind me how much I didn’t fit in here. This man was neat and tidy and had a place for everything. Gone were the passion and fire I thought I’d once seen in him. Had my memory altered him so drastically? I was certain this was it. He was going to tell me to leave and never come back. But regardless of my feelings, I needed this job. More than I wanted to admit. So I decided to try another tactic. One that I wasn’t proud of.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

He looked up at me, and something passed between us. I thought I saw heat flare in his eyes, but it happened so quickly, I couldn’t be sure if it was just my imagination. Because a moment later, he snapped his gaze to his watch with disinterest.

“I apologize if my manners are lacking,” he said. “Did I meet you at a benefit or something?”

Okay, so that wasn’t going to work either. I gave him a tight smile and decided to accept my fate. I would be sleeping in a homeless shelter soon enough.

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “It was a long time ago.”

He nodded and pressed the button on his intercom, calling out for Nicole. We sat in silence until she appeared in the doorway a moment later. He gestured her inside, and I clung to her presence as though it were a life-preserver.

“Nicole.” He greeted her as he readjusted the marble paperweight discreetly. “Is this the last of the interns?”

This. Being me. I shot Nicole a pleading glance, but she just smiled and kept her cool composure.

“It sure is, boss.”

“What do you intend to do with this one?” he queried.

“Well, I thought she could work up here. Stacey is always whining about how much stuff she has to do…”

“Here?” he asked incredulously. “On the fifteenth floor?”

Oh God, this was humiliating. Not only did he not remember kissing me- a kiss I’d long since been dreaming of- but he was treating me as if I was a complete and utter waste of space. I wanted to tell him not to worry about it. I wanted to tell him I didn’t need this job or any more of his time. But none of those things were true, and I had to swallow my pride and accept whatever scrap of kindness he would offer me.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Nicole smiled sweetly.

He mulled this over for a moment before giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “Fine.”

As we walked out of his office, I had conflicting feelings about my new job. Though my self-preservation was relieved at the prospect of an income, my indignation won out. He’d just treated me as if I was trash, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer.

“He’s kind of rude,” I whispered to Nicole as soon as we were in the clear.

She shot me a defensive look and shook her head in disappointment. “He’s really not. So I would withhold your judgments about him until you get to know him.”





Chapter Three

“You’ve put all these labels on wrong!” Stacey screeched, reaching for another handful of TUMS from her ever-present bottle.

She was a forty-something woman who wore a perpetual frown on her face, and I marveled at the fact she hadn’t succumbed to a heart attack yet. Between the entire pots of coffee, menthol cigarettes, and antacids she ingested on a daily basis, I could only imagine what her blood pressure was like.

“You told me they were supposed to be numerical,” I reminded her.

“No, I specifically said alphabetical,” she barked.

I knew she didn’t, but there was no point arguing with her. Something I’d learned quickly over the last two weeks at The Bennett Corporation. I was a lowly intern, and my job consisted of menial duties I was certain to mess up every opportunity I got. Or at least that’s what Stacey thought. All of the other interns were having a blast, but they were the smart ones. Me? I got saddled with Suffering Stacey. Yes, that’s what they called her here. And while everyone else I worked with was really nice, I couldn’t find it in me to like this woman, no matter how hard I tried.

I suspected that she was intentionally pushing my buttons to get a reaction out of me. She obviously didn’t know me very well. I’d grown up with far worse as a mother, and I learned a long time ago which battles to fight and which to let go.

“I’ll fix them.” I shrugged out of my cardigan and settled in for another long night.

She lingered over my desk with twisted lips, no doubt looking for other ways to torture me. “That’s right you’ll fix it,” she snapped. “You’re on thin ice as it is, Miss Valentine.”