Smooth, Seb. Real fucking smooth.
The woman smiled, for real this time, and pointed to her right. “Just down the hall, third office on the left. Do you want me to let her know you're coming?” She reached for the phone.
I shook my head. “Nah. I'll just pop in.”
They must get big, doofy, hockey players up here all the time, because the receptionist continued to smile at me like I was a not too bright toddler. But it didn't look as if she was thinking about calling security to have the inarticulate jock removed, so I guessed I was okay. I hadn’t been sure if I’d be allowed to see Amanda without an appointment. What the fuck do I know about how corporate works?
When I reached Amanda’s door, I took a deep breath before lightly knocking.
“Come in.”
It was my first time in Amanda’s office and to be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I pushed open the heavy door to reveal an impressive, tastefully decorated space with several windows along the back wall. Amanda sat perched behind a contemporary glass and chrome desk, polished and proficient, every bit the executive. I found it a little jarring. I was so used to Amanda sweaty, naked, and writhing, waiting for me to abuse her hot body, it was easy to forget she was a smart and successful woman.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare, or did you need something?”
Amanda didn't sound angry, but she wasn’t rolling out the welcome mat. Considering I’d prepared for her to immediately toss me out on my ass and call me a shithead, I’d take irritated any day of the week.
“Sorry. Um, I'm just a little, uh, thrown off by, you know…” twitch. I gestured at the sleek surroundings.
Amanda smirked and moved her laptop to the side so she could rest her manicured hands on the desk. “What?” She said with a smirk. “Not used to seeing me with my clothes on?”
I chuckled. “Something like that.”
“Have a seat.” I lowered myself into one of the gray leather chairs that faced her desk and took everything in, from the pricey looking art on the walls to the stunning view of Atlanta over Amanda’s shoulder. “Why are you here, Sebastien? I'm guessing it's not for interior design ideas.”
“Oh.” My cheeks burned and I flicked my gaze back to her familiar green eyes. “No, umm, not for that.”
She smiled. “I didn't think so.”
“Yeah, so, I came to say I’m sorry.”
The unflappable Amanda Brooker’s jaw came unhinged, and I squirmed in the leather chair. It was a rare occurrence, mostly because I don’t like how apologizing makes me feel—vulnerable. Something I learned at an early age to avoid at all cost.
“Y-you came to apologize… to me?”
I didn’t blame Amanda for being suspicious. I'm an asshole through and through and treated her like shit. An apology was probably the last thing she thought she'd hear come out of my mouth.
That made two of us.
“Mandy,” I leaned forward and propped my elbows on my knees, while making sure to maintain eye contact so she knew I wasn’t kidding. “I acted like a total shitstick. I see that now. I just…” I rubbed a hand over my chin and sighed. “Let's just say that lately I've been seeing my past behavior in a different light, and I'm sorry for what I did.”
Amanda continued to gape, staring at me as though an alien had abducted my body and was pulling my strings like a human puppet. Clearly, she needed a moment—the silence went on—or two.
“I-I don't know what to say.” She twisted her fingers. Amanda didn’t fidget, so I must have knocked her for a loop. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “This is, um, wow, unexpected.”
The strangled laugh that burbled up from my chest probably wasn't the best response. Amanda frowned. Yep. Not good. I cleared my throat and tried again.
“Some… things have, uh, happened. Things that forced me to reevaluate what kind of man I want to be.”
Twitch.
The whole thing was so awkward, talking about feelings and shit with a woman I used to tie down and spank. Amanda sucked in a breath and her eyes flared, lashes fluttering as she tried to blink away the shock.
“What?” I asked, defensive.
“It…it happened. I can’t…I mean, I don’t believe it.” She was muttering to herself so I could barely hear.
“What happened? What don’t you believe? Jesus, Mandy, you're freaking me out.” And she was. My pulse raced and by that point my shirt had stuck to my back. I sat on my hands so I wouldn’t slap one over my tap-dancing eye.