Unexpected Proposal
1139 Words
"Jewel, you’re the only one who can fix this." As I stopped in mid-step, my assistant's frantic remarks about a VIP arrival became inaudible.
I thought I recognized the voice. The gravel was smooth and low, just enough to perturb the air.
I turned suddenly, my heels clicking on the slick floor of my office, and there he stood.
Alcazar, Dane. I was broken by that man five years ago.
I looked into his piercing blue eyes, which were clouded by an emotion I couldn't quite place—desperation? Are you sorry? It didn't reduce the force, anyway.
Standing there in a tight-fitting blue suit, his disheveled blond hair a stark contrast to his generally composed manner, he was likewise incredibly gorgeous.
I made an effort to speak steadily.
You must be confused. This is not the charity wing of the building. There was no amusement in the corner of his mouth that he lifted.
"Jewel, if I had a choice, I wouldn't be here."
"You made a lot of choices, Dane. You don't call me when they come back to haunt you, to put it simply.
I turned my back on him and headed for my desk. I could feel the penetrating gaze of his eyes, but I refused to give up.
Not after everything.
In a soft yet firm voice, he said, "You don't even know why I'm here." Grasping the edge of my desk for support, I shot out, "And I don't care."
Like yesterday's news reports, I needed a concrete reminder that I wasn't the naive woman he had dismissed.
Approaching him, he said, "Then take care of this." As his voice faded away, I experienced an unwelcome cold.
"I'm being ruined by someone.
My company. My name. And they're using your connection to me to their advantage. I became icy.
I turned to face him cautiously.
"What are you discussing?"
"Everything I've built is under attack. Everything points to a coordinated campaign, including fabricated scandals and sabotage.
They're now mentioning your name. I need your help to keep it from growing worse. I crossed my arms and leaned back against my desk.
"What's my name?"
He nodded, his jaw clenched. It is subtle at the moment. Articles on the resurgence of vintage photos and our involvement.
But it is deliberate. Someone wishes to customize this. I should have laughed. I should have kicked him out of my office.
Instead, I saw that I was gripping the edge of the desk more firmly.
And you think I can help you? After the way you treated me? As he answered, his tone softened, "I know I don't deserve your help." But you're the best, Jewel.
The only person who can handle this is you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe that.
I hated how his seriousness tightened my chest and how the raw edge of his words threatened to tear through my laboriously constructed armor.
I said, forcing the edge back into my voice, "Flattery won't get you anywhere with me." He took a step forward and said, "This isn't flattery." That's the truth.
I just have faith in you to handle this. I gave a bitter little laugh. "Belief? That's very kind of you. He didn't turn away or cringe.
I know that I broke that, Jewel. And I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it if I have to. But now I need your help.
Please. The word hung between us like a burden I didn't want to acknowledge. Dane Alcazar chose not to use the word "please." But not the man I knew before.
I pushed past him as I paced to the window. I was reminded of how far I had come since I thought he was the center of the universe by the York skyline that towered over me.
Even if I did believe you—and that's a big if—why would I risk my reputation for you? Simply put, "Because it's already in danger," he said. I turned back to him with a knot in my stomach.
The weight of his eyes held me in place. "An article is scheduled for publication tomorrow," he stated.
It presents our history in a very confusing way. Consequences of the factors that led to the termination of our engagement.
Enough to make you question your morals. My heart sank. The expression on his face and the way his shoulders tensed as though he were about to strike me told me he wasn't lying.
My voice barely above a whisper, I whispered, "I didn't sign up to relive this circus." "I understand," he said, advancing a step.
And I'll do everything in my power to protect you. But I cannot do this without you. I shook my head and spat out a nasty laugh.
"You're quite brave, Alcazar."
However, he said in a stern voice, "I'm not asking you to forgive me." "Just to assist me," for our mutual advantage.
The silence that followed was deafening. My heart pounded in my ears as I stared at him, torn between wanting to throw him out and having a persistent hunch that he was telling the truth.
Before I could respond, my assistant came into the office. "There's something you need to see, Jewel." Her pale face and trembling hands made me uncomfortable.
"What is it?" She came in and handed me a tablet. "This just went live." As I reached for the tablet, I quickly skimmed the headline: The Real Reason Behind Billionaire Betrayal Alcazar The fiancée of Dane departed.
Underneath it was a photo of Alcazar and me from years ago, smiling as if the world were at our feet, his arm around my waist.
But the image wasn't the only thing that caused me to stop. The following was the subheadline: Others claim that Ford took a role in Dane's downfall.
I could feel the blood dripping from my face as I read the phrases again and over. My identity, my reputation, and my job were all being dragged through the mud.
I looked up to see a sad expression on Alcazar's face.
"Do you believe me now?"
I couldn't speak. Panic was eating at my throat. Everything hinged on the life I had built and the reputation I had so diligently earned.
And the man who had previously broken me was standing here, asking for my trust.
I shuddered as I uttered the words, "Get out." "Jewel—"
"I told you to leave!" Alcazar hesitated, his jaw tensing, but he turned and left without another word.
As the door clicked behind him, I sank into my chair, still holding the iPad tightly. My heart was racing as I glanced at the headline again, overwhelmed with fear. But it didn't end there. Not even close.
- Writer
