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Because Mr. Whitmore Jr. and I are already very familiar.
Those broad shoulders I clung to under the stars, that short dark hair I felt under my fingers, and those penetrating green eyes currently staring me down with all the heat of our night together.
There is a flash of recognition in his eyes, then a curtain falls over, impassive and cold.
That’s my mountain man alright. In a suit that costs more than the deposit on our new apartment.
How the hell is the man who refused to take my V-card now my freaking boss?!
And didn’t he say he was a Navy SEAL?
Former Navy SEAL is what he said, I remind myself.
He scans me, his face infuriatingly impassive. As if he is meeting me for the first time.
Calling him gorgeous would be a disservice to the word. He is big, stunning, and chiseled from marble. His jaw is clenched tightly. The green eyes, warm and inviting as he comforted me after the frightening encounter with the bear, are now ice daggers. How can he just forget our night together like it was nothing?
He made me come three times!
It's like he has mastered some dark art of emotional detachment.
Meanwhile, I'm two seconds away from combusting on the spot.
Well, dammit.
What now?
3
BILLIONAIRE BOSS
He quirks one dark brow. “So, tell us, Ms. Emerson, what's your grand plan for dragging our stodgy brand into the digital age?”
His tone is polite, but there is an undercurrent of doubt and mockery there. The others around the big conference table stare me down with that signature, I've-got-a-stick-up-my-butt executive realness.
Remember why you’re here, Maddie,
Taking a deep breath, I give Jack-a-licious my best down-my-nose look.
”Well,” I begin, my voice steady despite the tornado brewing inside me. “Social media can give you engagement. You can show the human side behind all the technical jargon.” I pause, steadying my jitters. The suits stare me down as if I fell straight from the moon. “Platforms like Instagram and TikTok offer direct lines to younger demographics,” I manage to supplement.
Jack—correction, Mr. Whitmore raises an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his handsome face. “Flouncing about on socials won't quite cut it. You think a bit of TikTok boogie can redefine years of established branding?”
His words sting, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. But I push back the tears, refusing to show weakness. Especially not in front of a full room of stuffy professionals. Or maybe I’m overreacting. Is this what a normal business meeting is? A clash of minds?
Not that I know much about the rules and rituals of the corporate world.
“You can make Whitmore Tech more approachable if that’s your goal.” My voice is firm. “Times have shifted. Young people live on social media. For a tech company, that’s where the goldmine is. Your future profits.”
There is a murmur around the room, some nods of agreement, others skeptical. But Jack's expression doesn't change. He is still impenetrable, all business, and seemingly unaffected by my words.
I can't help but feel hurt. How can he sit there, so cold and distant, after that night we spent together? What kind of superpower does he possess to compartmentalize like this?
But I can't dwell on it. This is my chance to prove myself, to show that I'm more than just a pretty face with a social media account.
And besides, what would I have him do? Burst out in hugs and giggles in front of all these people?
“I think it's time you stop being afraid of modernity,” I continue, my voice growing stronger with each word. “Unless you embrace new platforms and new strategies, you'll be left behind.” I pause for effect, the room silent as a graveyard, my eyes spearing him. “But it’s your call, of course.”
