Corner Office Confessions

“That’s because Samuel went to great lengths to keep his efforts secret after he learned exactly what our father’s plans for the company were.” Mason retrieved his coffee cup and lifted it to his lips.

Arlie wasn’t certain how to feel about this information. After what had transpired between them in the hotel room, she had reminded herself of this every time she began to feel the stirrings of regret. A longing for that conversation to have ended differently.

Making a monster of him had been her best hope at survival.

And now this.

“I appreciate your sense of familial loyalty, but if this is some sort of misguided bid to redeem your brother, I’m afraid it isn’t going to work.” Lifting her tweezers from the silky gray surface of the counter, Arlie examined the flakes in her keep pile, finding one the proper shape and shade to add to the bowl.

“I wasn’t aware he needed redeeming.”

“Let’s just say that pretty much every single encounter I’ve had with Samuel has ended badly.” Technically not a lie. Not the complete truth either.

“Do you think there’s any chance that he might still have feelings for you?”

Mason’s words were like a sucker punch to the gut. And it stung to know that she wished the answer was yes. “Would it matter if he did? I was under the impression that your father vehemently disapproved of company romances.”

A sly smile curled up the corners of Mason’s mouth. “So you’re saying that if my father weren’t against company romances, this information would matter?”

Arlie’s cheeks flooded with stinging heat. Tricky bastard.

“No,” she said. “I’ll admit to having a teenage infatuation once upon a time, but—”

Mason laughed. A sound so rich, warm and contagious that she had to fight to keep a straight face. “Watching you invent excuses to walk past the library was my actual hobby for three years.”

“Look, a lot has changed since then.” Which was the understatement of the century.

“How about this?” he said, taking another slurp from his white cup. “Samuel’s been a cold, bossy dick to you ever since you started. Isn’t there even the smallest part of you that wants to see how he would react if he thought that you and I were actually an item?”

Oh, the part of her wasn’t small.

“Maybe,” she admitted.

“Okay,” he said. “Hear me out. My brilliant teenage plan had one fatal flaw.”

“And that would be?” Arlie asked.

“You weren’t participating.”

“I don’t follow.” She paused, the pointy silver tips of her tweezers hovering above the cereal pile. She hadn’t expected this question.

“As long as he didn’t think you were interested in me, he had no reason to intervene.” Mason walked around the long, rectangular high-top table where they’d later be plying potential customers and investors with free booze and alluringly packaged samples. “Should he get the idea that you might return my affections...” He trailed off.

Mason’s enthusiasm was nothing if not infectious. “How would you propose we do that?”

Glancing stealthily from side to side, he stepped close to her, his finger warm beneath her chin as he tilted her face up to his.

She had to admit, for the briefest of moments, she could comprehend Charlotte’s fascination. Mason was an unreasonably attractive human. Extravagantly indulgent. Fireworks in February. Flash and dazzle and blindingly bright solar flares.

Mason ran a thumb over his lips. “We pretend.”

“And what would the end goal be for this particular game of pretend?” she asked, butterflies slam-dancing in her stomach.

“One of two things is going to happen. A, Samuel cops to the fact that he’s had a thing for you since we were kids. Or B, we revenge-annoy the ever-loving shit out of him. Either way, sounds like a good time to me.” He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

Arlie wasn’t especially proud to admit that her preferred outcome would be C, all of the above.

“Mason Kane.” She held out her hand for him to shake. “You have a deal.”

Instead, he threaded his fingers through hers and swung her hand by his side as he would if they were happy couple, out for a walk.

Arlie looked at him, eyebrow raised in question.

“Practice makes perfect,” he said.

“That’s such a Samuel thing to say.” A subtle pang of sadness constricted Arlie’s chest.

“Our supplier appreciation event at Fort Funston is this evening. Any chance you’d like to come help me navigate those treacherous sand dunes?”

“I’d be delighted,” Arlie said, surprised to realize that this was true.