I lean my head back against my chair and breathe out a heavy sigh. Fuck. I just made that situation worse.
Maybe Ronan and I should have been more open about our relationship from the beginning. The fact that we’ve been more or less hiding it makes the potential for gossip even higher. People love to think they’ve discovered a dirty secret. If I’m going to date Ronan—if we’re going to have an honest to goodness relationship and not just a hot fling—I’m going to have to live with what some people in the office think. I can’t control their opinions, and what they think of me shouldn’t matter so much. But it does. I’ve spent my entire career navigating the ins and outs of snap judgments and misinterpretations of who I am.
I’m aware of what I look like. I’m tall and beautiful, and there’s no conceit in me knowing it. But it means a lot of people don’t take me seriously. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been told I should “go be a model.” Sometimes it’s meant as a compliment, but often buried in the comment is the implication that my best assets are my face and my body. That the fact that I have long legs, big boobs, and a fortunate bone structure means there must not be much more to me.
There’s some irony in complaining about being beautiful. I understand that plenty of women would kill for a body like mine, and I appreciate it for what it is. But I’ve always felt like I have to work a little harder to earn the respect of my coworkers, and I hate that dating Ronan is jeopardizing that.
Is there a way to make this work? And is this more than a hot fling? Am I putting my career at risk for a man who’s going to chase the next sexy pair of legs that catches his eye?
I close my laptop and unplug the power supply. I need to get out of here. I send a quick text to Kylie, telling her I need to talk, and gather up my things. I’ll probably get more work done at home anyway. At least I won’t be wondering what everyone is saying about me on the other side of my door.
My focus isn’t much better sitting at my dining table than it was at my desk. Around five, I give up and pour myself a glass of wine. I’m not being very productive, so I figure I ought to stop staring at my computer screen.
There’s a knock at my door. I’m expecting Kylie, but not till later—and she would just use her key. I set my wine glass down on the coffee table and go to answer the door.
I open it to find Ronan standing on the other side, still dressed in his button-down shirt and slacks, his hair slightly unkempt. He looks like he came straight from the office.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I close the door behind him and we walk into the kitchen.
“Drink?” I ask.
“Sure.”
He leans against the counter, his hands in his pockets. He seems so distant. I know I owe him an apology, but I hate that he didn’t touch or kiss me when he first walked in. Maybe I did more damage than I realized.
I pour him a glass of bourbon, and he takes a sip while I refill my wine.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” I say. “I was upset, and I took it out on you.”
His face softens a little. “You don’t need to apologize. I was worried this afternoon when I saw you’d left.”
“Worried about what?”
“That you might quit.”
“I’m not quitting my job,” I say, my voice sharp.
“Don’t get defensive,” he says. “I don’t say that because I think you would make a decision like that lightly. I say that because I need to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
I watch him for a moment, turning my wineglass in my hand. “Why?”
“Because you’re the reason I bought VI.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “You didn’t know I worked there when you bought it.”
“You’re right, I didn’t,” he says. “But I know that a lot of what made VI worth buying was you. Your fingerprints are on everything. Yes, Brad put together a good team, but it was you who held things together. It was you who drove the company’s direction as much as Brad. Maybe more.”
I stare at him, not sure what to say.
“I know that I’m walking a line with you,” he says. “I don’t know what’s stronger—my respect for you as a professional, or my feelings for you as a woman.”
“Are you saying you think you have to choose between our working relationship and our personal one?”
One corner of his mouth turns up and he walks over to stand in front of me. “I’m saying I’m greedy, and I want both. I love working with you. You’re focused and passionate, and you care about your work. And I love…” He stops and sets his drink on the counter. He looks deep into my eyes, and something stirs inside me—a mix of fear and longing. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Selene.”
My mouth drops open and my heart races. Did he just say what I think he said? I blink, trying to see the pretense in his eyes, but there’s nothing but raw honesty.
He licks his lips and touches my face. “I didn’t think you’d say nothing to that.”