I felt nauseous. How could I know so little about him when every thud of my heart seemed to echo his name? I smiled tightly, thanking her in a small voice before following Sinclair’s path down the hallway to the large chrome elevator.
The doors whooshed open on the 60th floor to reveal a large reception done in cool grays and blues and punctuated by the large glass fronted desk displaying the name of the company in bold navy letters, Faire Developments. It wasn’t a true surprise, after all, I had known in Mexico that he was there to buy a failing resort, but every piece of information I garnered still felt like a nail in the coffin of our relationship. Relationship? God, who was I kidding here, there was no relationship between us but foolish ex-lovers and a long future as potential in-laws stretched ahead of me. I placed a hand on my queasy stomach and straightened my spine, determined to bowl over the awkwardness between us no matter what.
His assistant, a surprisingly young man with brilliant red hair and smattering of large russet freckles, waved me through with a large grin and I wondered briefly, where the frosty Margot was. I followed the fluid sound of Sinclair’s voice around the corner to a set of slightly open frosted glass doors.
I hesitated in the doorway, watching him stare out the wall of glass at the street, the pale autumn light beautifully highlighting the planes of his face. He was speaking Spanish and it took me a second to notice the black Bluetooth headphone in one ear. I was just about to leave, painfully uncomfortable, when those blue eyes punctured me, pinning me to the wall like a preserved butterfly.
Sit, he mouthed. And there was no room for disobedience in his stern expression.
I sat, but made sure to level a hefty glare his way as I did so.
While I waited, I tried to distract myself by studying the office space. It continued in the modern aesthetic of the rest of the building but there was warmth in the white, brown and cream color scheme, the depth of the leather chairs and matching low-level couch. The entire length of the far wall was glass as well as most of the back wall by the chairs. It offered a stunning panorama of the bustling city streets and made the office seem like the Crow’s Nest of the civilized world. There was a conspicuously blank space suited for a painting behind his desk and not a single photograph graced his work surface. I searched for any sign of the man I knew and found none.
I smoothed the hem of my short skirt over my thighs and tried to steady my breath. It was nerve-racking to sit in front of him like that, as if I was a lowly student waiting for an interview and not an angry ex-lover with righteous concerns. But each moment I spent sitting there diluted my fury. I wondered if he had planned for exactly that.
When I tilted my head up to see if he had finished the call, he was looking at me, his hands folded across his desk. I didn’t know how long he had been done with his conversation but I also didn’t really care. The moment our eyes met, whatever resolve I may have amassed went up in flames.
“Giselle.”
Hearing his voice caress my full name did something funny to my pulse.
“Daniel,” I said, with considerably more venom.
He stared at me impassively from over his steepled fingertips and I couldn’t help but notice what a picture he made, the handsome prince on his urban throne. For some reason, the image made me remember my previous anger.
“So, you came to have a mature conversation about this.”
My eyes bugged out of my head and it took me a second to find my voice. “Are you kidding me? I came here to tell you to go to hell!”
His lip twitched infinitesimally, just enough to let me know he was joking with me.
“This is hardly the time to develop a sense of humor, Sinclair,” I chastised him, but when he broke out in a small boyish grin I couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“There is a thin line between comedy and tragedy.” He opened his steepled hands wide.
I shook my head. “I have no idea how you can be so calm right now. We betrayed Elena.”
The light in his eyes flickered and dulled as his gaze turned out the window. He was silent for a few long minutes but I didn’t know what to say to fill the quiet.
When he finally turned back to me, Sinclair the businessman was gone and I was once again faced with the man I had grown to know in Mexico.
“The irony isn’t lost on me, Giselle, and of course, I know the information hurts you.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the desk, his eyes blazing. “You think it is easy for me? I feel the same guilt that you do.”
I was shaking my head without even realizing it. “Then how can you even ask me to be here?”
Didn’t he feel the same physical ache that I did, looking at him, being in the same room, the same city, the same god forsaken continent?
I was speaking before I even fully understood what I wanted to say. “How is it possible that you didn’t recognize me?”
I knew it wasn’t fair to blame the situation on him, even though he had made the decision to cheat on Elena, but it felt good to unleash some of the raging emotions trapped in my chest.
“You were a scrawny, timid brunette in every family photo and honestly, Elena doesn’t speak about you very much.”
I flinched from his words even though I should have guessed as much.
Sinclair’s eyes were sharp against my skin, slicing through my mask until I felt raw and abraded. “I can live with the guilt, Giselle, and I know what I want. The only question is; what do you want?”
“What do you mean, you know what you want?” I whispered, almost afraid to ask but willing to delay answering his question by any means possible.