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I immediately sent a message apologizing for the mistake, but I knew it was too late. I had no idea how he would react, and I was terrified that I had just ruined my chances of making a good impression at my new job. I couldn't help but worry about what would happen next, sitting on my bed and waiting for a reply, full of dread. I knew I was going to have to face the consequences of my mistake, and all I could hope for was that Cannon wouldn’t make me suffer for too long.
To my utter relief, Cannon ignored the frantic apology and simply replied with a simple, "Nice dress. It looks perfect on you, and in my personal opinion, your ‘extra curves’ as you put it make you even more irresistible. See you at the event."
I let out a sigh of relief and tried to push the embarrassing incident to the back of my mind as I finished getting ready for the evening, hoping that after tonight, I wouldn’t have to think of my stupid mistake again. Still, his comment on me being irresistible made a fluttery feeling take hold in my stomach.
I had been so overwhelmed that I didn’t even try and text Cara as I had originally planned to. Cannon liked the dress, and my curves, apparently, so there was no doubt in my mind that I had to wear the dress. As long as I haven’t ruined my future opportunities at Cannon’s company, this one little mix-up won’t be the end of the world.
After turning 18, I never imagined I would get a job right away, but I’ve always been an overachiever. I was able to finish high school with an associate’s degree in journalism already under my belt. And with student loans, it would be so easy to finish my bachelor’s and even my master’s with online classes if I played my cards right.
Still, even with everything planned out so perfectly, it had still been a shock to land an interview atElite Editionsin Seattle so quickly, especially as a Florida resident, but I had been all too happy to relocate for the chance to work with Cannon Croft and his team of top-notch writers. The company even offered to pay for my online college courses, and that left me enough money to pay for the overly expensive studio apartment that I now call home.
Now, I’m one of the youngest employees at the company, and although it’s been exhilarating, I’m always worried about fitting in.
As the night wears on, all the employees ofElite Editionsare treated to an absolutely sumptuous meal. The food is decadent, with a variety of delicious dishes to choose from. There are platters of seafood, including succulent lobster and crab, as well as a variety of meats, such as tender roast beef and juicy chicken. The desserts are equally amazing, with an assortment of cakes, tarts, and pastries to choose from.
It’s a far cry from the ramen and cheap takeout I’ve been living off of, and the richness of the food is almost too much of a shock to my system. That doesn’t stop me from trying almost everything though, making easy small talk with the other interns at my table as I eat.
During dessert and coffee, a few of the higher-ups speak about the success ofElite Editionseven in a world where magazines were less popular than ever. I try my best to pay attention, but then there is Cannon….waiting and watching me, smirking each time I accidentally meet his eyes across the room.
Throughout the evening, the lighting is soft and romantic, with flickering candles and twinkling fairy lights adding to the ambiance. Once tables are cleared and speeches are finished, a small string quartet arrives, and people begin to take the dance floor.
As I sit at my table, sipping on a glass of champagne and chatting with my fellow guests, I can’t help but feel grateful to be a part of such a special evening—even if it had an awkward start. The decor, food, lighting, and atmosphere are all top-notch, and I feel truly privileged to be a part of it. It is an evening that I will never forget…for more than one reason. Mostly, Cannon Croft.
I see him rise to his feet, adjusting the lapels of his perfectly tailored black-on-black tuxedo, and start to push through the crowd in my direction. I look towards the door, deciding that I have enough time to escape before Cannon gets to me, and in a split-second decision, take off towards the exit at a fast walk. After our overly intimate greeting earlier, a dance with Cannon will be a bridge too far for my reputation.
My heart stutters in my chest when I feel a huge hand wrap around my bare wrist, and I exhale slowly to settle myself as I turn to face the person who stopped me. I already know it’s Cannon and his sharp, unwavering gaze, and I wish I hadn’t even tried to run. At least I wouldn’t have looked like a coward as well as an airhead, but it’s too late now.
He’s here, right in front of me, smelling like warm amber and sandalwood, his head cocked to the side as he takes me in wordlessly.
As I stand here, face to face with him, I’m breathless. He’s tall, towering over me at a commanding 6 foot 3 inches, and I’m a little intimidated, and a lot turned on. What is wrong with me?
His tan, bronzed skin and muscular physique might be intimidating, but in a way that makes me feel safe and protected. Even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it’s ridiculous—how can a man I barely know make me feel safe?! Yet, it’s true, even if it makes little sense.
But then, as our eyes meet, his serious expression changes to a knowing grin. It's as if he can see right through me as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. And in that moment, I feel a rush of attraction towards him.
Despite my reservations, I find myself wanting to be closer to him. His strong, confident presence is intoxicating, and I’m drawn to him. But I know it isn't appropriate—he is my boss, after all. Still, I find him incredibly handsome, and I can't shake the feeling that I want to be near him. What makes it even more complicated is the fact that he obviously wants to be near me, too.
“Dance with me,” he rumbles, releasing my wrist and instead holding his hand out for me to take of my own volition. I look from his outstretched hand to his handsome face, and time seems to slow.
I feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach. Dancing with him, in front of all of these people who work atElite Editions, feels like a risky proposition. But as I look into his piercing gaze and the almost playful tilt to his lips, I find myself wanting to say yes.
So, I do, wordlessly, putting my hand in his.
Deep down, I know that I really do want to have this slow dance with Cannon, so I throw caution to the wind and let him take my hand and lead me onto the floor.
As we move together, I’m surprised to find that I’m completely at ease in his arms. His strong, confident presence is reassuring, and I find myself feeling more carefree than I have in a long time. So what if everyone is watching? It’s just a dance.Everyonehere is dancing…it isn’t like we’re making out in the middle of the gala or something.
I notice the way he holds me, with a gentle yet firm grip. It’s as if he never wants to let me go, and I feel a little thrill at the thought. He looks at me with such intensity, and I see the desire in his eyes like we are the only two people in the room. As we continue to dance, it’s impossible to deny that this feels like the beginning of something special.
“You’re a woman of few words, Candace. An odd trait in a writer, I have to admit.”
“I’m just an intern,” I admit shyly. “But…I’m also nervous, if you can’t tell.”
“Hmm,” Cannon hums, moving us around the floor effortlessly. “Let me guess. You’re nervous because you work for me, and everyone here knows that, and because you don’t want your reputation tarnished by the idea that I might be giving you preferential treatment because of something….intimate going on between us. How close am I?”
My mouth gapes open for a second before I manage to reply, “You pretty much hit the nail on the head.”
“Relax, lovely girl. This ismycompany, and none of these people dare cross me. That includes being rude to anyone that I show interest in. It’s nobody's business but our own.”
