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The CEO of The Women’s Collective, Diana Strong, beamed brighter than the lights that shone down on her. It had nothing to do with her sharp white pantsuit, though if I was the pantsuit type, I’d be asking for the designer and her tailor because she was rocking the hell out of it.
Her pale blonde locks hung in a curly halo, but it was her smile, wide, genuine and freely given that seemed to pause on everyone in the room so regardless of where we were in our journey, we felt like she was speaking to us. Like we were special and badass and capable of greatness.
“And now, it’s time for our special guest!”
I didn’t know who this special guest was, but I already pitied them. It was like going on after Beyonce. Nothing would be able to top the motivating speech she’d just given us about the work we all could do to support and lift each other up.
“Please join me in welcoming Delia Rightman from Cox Technologies and our newly minted corporate sponsor, Jason Cox!”
There was thunderous applause the moment the word ‘Cox’ fell from Diana’s lips, and when she said his name, there wasn’t an occupied seat in the room...except for mine.
I used the moment to try and gather myself.
Tried to remember to breathe. To not choke on the piece of cupcake that was now lodged in my throat.
He was here.
The applause died down and the women slowly sank back into their seats, smartphones out, trying to zoom in and get a closeup of him. I was busy chugging my champagne. If I’d had a bottle handy, I would have downed that too.
I felt him, even though I was making a conscious effort to pretend that my full attention was on his assistant.
“Thank you so much for having us, Diana.” Delia said, flashing a dazzling smile of her own. A smile that Jason saw every day. A flash of something that I refused to believe was envy sliced through me, like a fork slicing through a pice of cake.
This woman, this Delia, would be devil’s food cake with her rich, chocolate locks that fell in perfect waves past her chin. Her skin was Miami beach tan and I had a feeling it was au natural, a gift from birth and not a tanning bed. My skin, that went quickly from ivory to red if I didn’t drench myself in sunscreen, made me feel like store-bought cheesecake.
Delia was in a power suit that rivaled Diana’s, hers a charcoal gray that was all business until I saw her ears twinkled with a pair of double sided pearls. The end nestled against her back earlobe was a diamond studded spike that matched the industrial bar in both ears.
I dropped my eyes to my lap, ashamed of myself. I was sizing this woman up like she was my competition, picturing late nights at the office with a man who wasn’t even mine. Heck, I was working extra hard to make sure he wasn’t mine. And now, I was sitting on the edge of my seat, ready to march right up to the stage and-
My eyes swept right to his and the jubilant smile that creased his lips speared me through the chest like a chubby angel had fired an arrow at me. When he stroked his thick fingers through those raw sugar, golden brown locks of his, I was no longer thinking about anything angelic.
There was no cupid, hearts and arrows.
I was thinking about his fingers on my hips.
On my breasts.
I was a goner.
I gripped my glass, another thought coming to mind.
Screw you, Jason Cox.
Why was he here? He didn’t get to just show up. Did he think he could be all charming and sexy and I was supposed to forget about the past? I was supposed to just smile and praise him for being a philanthropist and pretend it changed the fact that he was a raging jerk?
I didn’t return his smile, looking right through him until his smile fell off his face.
CHAPTER TWELVE: JASON
“I told you it was a horrible idea, Jason.”
I swatted a speckled balloon, casting a futile glance in Natalee’s direction. The last time I’d seen her behind a display, beating cupcake hungry people off with a stick, that indignant flare in her cheeks was edged with something that told me I had a chance. A sliver of one, but it was enough. Enough to formally re-introduce myself at the reception, and know that I’d at least get a few words out of her. A few words other than ‘screw you’.
Now, with her face frozen in this glacial, I-dare-you-to-come-over-here-Jason-fucking-Cox, her smile empty and stapled to her face for professionalism’s sake, I didn’t need a crystal ball to know that if there was anything sharp handy, Natalee Madison would likely cut off something I’d miss.
The obvious, too little, too late commentary was courtesy of none other than the illustrious Jessie Stone, though Delia’s silent condemnation said it one more time so my poor judgment could truly sink in.
I turned away from Jessie, remembering why I avoided the woman as best I could. This time, my annoyance wasn’t born out of her ruling her event like some mad tyrant on the rampage. There wasn’t a carousel of sniffling, jumpy staff at this event. I was annoyed because when I’d gone against Jessie’s advice and decided to attend the conference, she’d pulled me aside before we walked on the stage, her demeanor as cold and efficient as I remembered. Her gaze had clawed at me like a ghoul from the grave, warning me that danger was ahead.
