The One I Want

That money would have supported their team to continue their work after their death, and I failed.

Karl stepped up with my research in hand and won the judges over with my presentation. The worst part—I let him. I thought he was doing me a favor, helping me when I froze from the news I’d just been given. Instead, he shattered my heart more than it had already been broken.

Anger courses through me, and when I look down, I’m fisting my hands. Karl was right. I am bitter. To this day, his actions made me leave a part of my heart on that stage that I’ve never been able to recover. I lost my passion for botany because of him, and I haven’t been the same since.

I can’t fix the past, but with time and distance to the accident, I’ve learned nothing is worth sacrificing time with the ones you love—no job, no hobby, no passion. We get one chance at this life, and I want mine to matter.

Is a new opportunity in line with that thinking, or is it finally time to put my past to bed? “Can I think about it?”

“Yes, please do. And if you have questions, please ask. Joseph and I believe in you, Juni, and we think you’ll go far with Christiansen Wealth Management.”

“Thank you.” I still haven’t fixed the issues surrounding my relationship with Andrew, so why am I even considering this job? With my hand on the knob, I look back. “I haven’t contacted the temp agency yet. I came to you first.”

Laurie stands, pressing her fingertips to the glass-top desk. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ll wait to contact them until after I make my decision.” She nods with a gentle smile. I walk out floating on cloud nine. My day has taken an unexpected turn for the better. Now it’s up to me to decide which way I want to go.

Dark hair at two o’clock has me dropping to the floor. When I hear the voice— deep and sultry, commanding, and sexy—coming closer, I crawl into the nearest cubicle.

“What are you doing down there?” My stomach tightens. Justin’s voice alone makes my skin crawl. And he adds, “Looking for a snack?”

“A snack is all you have to offer,” I snap back.

I start to get up but halt on all fours when I hear Andrew’s assistant ask, “What are you doing, Ms. Jacobs?”

I look over my shoulder, my eyes connecting with Mary first and then Andrew. “Juni?”

Trying to push up, I get caught and sent back to my knees because today, of all days, I had to wear a pencil skirt. I drop my head, humiliation flooding my face, and try again.

Laurie joins in the party. Naturally. “What’s going on?”

Mary says, “Um . . . I think I hear my phone ringing.” I hear the sound of her hightailing it out of here through her quick footsteps. I don’t blame her. I wish I could do the same.

Andrew’s anger consumes the air, and I finally say, “I’m stuck.”

Justin stands, but Andrew demands, “Sit.” As if he’s a dog that’s been punished, he scurries back to his chair.

A pair of black designer Oxfords, Italian by the looks of the leather and stitching, appears before me. I know they’re Andrew’s because there’s nary a scuff in sight. He bends down. “Are you okay?”

I look up, my hair falling over my eyes. Through strands of hair, I see the anger I heard moments earlier now situated as ire in his eyes. He holds his hands out for me. When I slip my hands in his, an unfettered energy travels between us, a spark reaching his eyes.

He carefully helps me to my feet, where I brush the rest of my hair away from my face and straighten my clothes.

I dare to look into Andrew’s eyes, already missing the little gold flecks that have been replaced with embers of fire. He says, “I’d like to see you in my office, Ms. Jacobs,” and maneuvers around me.

He’s quickly covering the distance to his office, but I say, “I should probably—”

“Now,” he commands without breaking his pace.

I turn to see Laurie staring at me, a million questions surfacing in her expression. Shame fills me, and I start, “I can explain—”

“I think I should be present for this meeting.” She returns to her office, and when she comes back out, she walks right past me with a pad and pen in hand.

Once more, I make sure my skirt is straight and in place before I start walking. I’m not sure if this is a walk of shame or I’m a dead man walking, but either way, the entire office is staring at me as I head to my own beheading. The door to the office I’ve been so good about avoiding is wide open.

I can’t say I’m getting welcoming vibes from the inside when I approach, though. Taking a deep breath, I tug at the collar of my shirt and make sure the clasp of my necklace is at the back. I exhale and then walk in.