#4 - Moved On
1241 Words
Grayson
Asher annoyed me about many things. Women had never been one of them—until now.
I shouldn't have been irritated in the first place, but for the life of me, I couldn't help it. Instead, I stewed, lingering outside my office door, waiting impatiently for my little brother to wrap up his conversation with Elaine so I could finally have my first meeting with her. That was what I was calling this prickling need to get her alone... away from him.
The fool had escorted her all the way here, talking her ear off, and now was taking his damned time leaving. I was this close to kicking him out.
"I'm Asher, by the way. His brother." He introduced himself just when I thought bye would be the next word out of his mouth, making me inwardly groan. We both knew it was unnecessary—our resemblance made it obvious.
I gritted my teeth when he extended his hand, only to use it to pull Elaine in for a hug when she took it. He leaned in and whispered, "The cooler brother as you've noticed."
I shot him a glare, seriously contemplating banning him from interacting with my staff—or maybe just one particular staff member.
"Yo, bro, be nice to the lady, or you'll have me to deal with." He finally acknowledged my presence, but I was too far gone to entertain him, so I maintained my glare.
"Really, Asher, I can take care of myself." Elaine smiled. It went straight to my heart, cracking the walls I'd built around it. I had forgotten just how disarming her smile could be.
"An independent woman!" Asher exclaimed, darting a glance between me and her, pretending to be impressed. "Elaine, you are making it that much harder not to fall for you."
Wait, what the hell? I pinned him with a hard look. Falling for her? What did he mean, falling for her? I was this close to pulling him aside and claiming I had seen her first when he clapped me on the shoulder and finally left. But not before winking at Elaine—making her blush.
Bloody hell.
For all the annoyance I'd had with Asher, I regretted it the moment he left because the lightheartedness that had been on Elaine's face vanished like vapour. Where there had been a sparkle in her eyes, and a smile on her lips, there was only a cold hardness l had never seen before.
And it was all for me.
Exactly what I needed to remember why she was here and that I didn't want her.
Only professionally.
My mind argued, leaving me stomping towards my mini bar, more irritated with myself than before.
"Drink?" I offered, not bothering to turn. I needed to compose myself. Hated that I needed to.
"No, thank you." She replied. So formal, so calm. It only deepened my irritation.
How was she so unaffected by us being in the same room after six years? After that night? That morning? How was she unaffected by me?
Probably because she moved on after what you did.
Moved on.
I replayed those words, a bitterness I hadn't expected filling my mouth. I had been right to get rid of her six years ago—to protect myself—but it had never tasted this bitter. Not until now.
Wanting—no, needing—to wash it down, I gulped my entire four fingers of scotch and set the glass on the counter with a loud thud. I glanced her way, but not even that rattled her.
She didn't even flinch.
I didn't affect her anymore.
Right.
I considered walking up to her, closing the space, seeing how that went. But realising I might be the one to fail that test, I decided against it.
Instead I moved to my seat, facing her.
I should have welcomed her to Frost Renew as any good CEO would with my next words, instead I went with the bitter speech I'd prepared the moment Wallace made it clear I would have to work with her.
"These are the ground rules before we can think of working together, Miss Murdoch." I sat forward, lacing my fingers. "Firstly, I don't want you here—that was my great-grandfather's doing. Secondly, this is strictly professional, our past is exactly that—our past."
I expected a rise out of her.
"Water under the bridge." She said coolly, picking at her nails as if she couldn't be less bothered. Then, mirroring my posture—a deliberate challenge—that elicited more movement in my pants, she leaned forward and smiled.
Damn.
"And you must know, you weren't that memorable that I'd hold on to one meaningless night between us, Mr. Frost."
My eye twitched.
My nose flared.
I didn't know what infuriated me more— that she called me Mr. Frost instead of the way she moaned my name that night, or the fact that she considered the night in question meaningless.
Or maybe it was that my presence didn't affect her at all.
Or—maybe—the truth was worse.
She had blossomed into the kind of woman I'd always known she would.
My kind of woman.
And she wasn't mine.
"Now that that's out of the way, can we get to the reason I'm here for?"
Out of the way?
Just like that?
I did a double take at the woman in front of me. Unapologetic. Self assured. Ready to talk business.
Two things became clear in that moment.
So much more had changed about her than just the sexier body.
And I'd need more than a minute to catch up.
I leaned back, trying to reclaim my composure.
That was when her phone rang.
She pulled it from her pocket, her eyes going wide at the caller I.D.
"I need to take this."
Slipping out of her seat, she swiped the screen, then put on the biggest, brightest smile.
"Hey baby," she said, stepping out. "Awww, I miss you too, sweetheart."
Baby? Sweetheart?
My fists clenched at the endearments.
And then my mind's voice hit me like a slap to the face.
She moved on.
And with a man apparently.
I abandoned my seat without thinking, diving for the door— grateful to find it still open.
"I'm sorry for not calling as soon as I landed," she was saying.
What a douche. I thought.
Couldn't he have waited until she was settled before blowing up her phone?
And then—
"Mommy loves you too, Claire."
I staggered back from the door.
She had a kid.
She had moved on—with some guy who had knocked her up.
She had a kid.
I blinked at the door, my mind reeling.
I should have known that.
What else did I not know?
I yanked my phone from my pocket and pulled up my P.I's contact—a former military man with reach in high places. It was a bit over the top, maybe. But I wasn't about to miss out on any more details.
"Hey Rodger, I need you to look into someone. Social media and the Internet are dead ends."
I texted, wondering why I hadn't thought of doing this before.
Because you were hell bent on forgetting her.
I waved that thought away.
"Name: Elaine Murdoch. Give me everything from the past six years."
- Writer
