Chapter 19
733 Words
Chapter 19
The fluorescent lights of my office buzzed incessantly, matching the chaotic energy that had been coursing through me all day. I rubbed my temples, trying to ward off the headache that had been threatening since this morning's bombshell. Our clients were having second thoughts about the merger, throwing months of work into jeopardy.
My phone rang, Derek's name flashing on the screen. I hesitated before answering, steeling myself for another professional confrontation.
"Hawthorne," I answered, my voice clipped.
"Chen," he replied, his tone equally brusque. "I assume you've heard about our clients'... reconsideration."
I let out a humorless laugh. "If by 'reconsideration' you mean 'potentially derailing months of work,' then yes, I've heard."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could almost picture Derek running his hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, Sophia, we need to talk about this. And... we need to discuss dinner with my mother. She's expecting us at the estate tomorrow night."
The reminder of the impending dinner with Miranda Hawthorne sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. "Right. Because that's exactly what I need right now - dinner with your mother while our professional lives are imploding."
"Don't be dramatic," Derek snapped. "Our professional lives aren't imploding. We'll figure this out. As for dinner, it's important to my mother. And like it or not, she's going to be our child's grandmother."
The coldness in his voice stung more than I cared to admit. "Fine," I bit out. "What time?"
"I'll pick you up at seven," he said, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Wear something... appropriate."
I felt my temper flare. "Appropriate? What exactly are you implying, Hawthorne?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, but I could hear the frustration in his voice. "Just... it's a formal dinner, okay? I don't want my mother to have any more ammunition than she already does."
The implication that I might embarrass him in front of his mother hit me like a physical blow. "Right," I said, my voice icy. "Heaven forbid I show up looking like the uncouth commoner I am."
"That's not what I meant and you know it," Derek growled. "Why do you always have to twist my words?"
"Why do you always have to be such an condescending ass?" I shot back.
There was a heavy silence on the line, charged with unspoken words and simmering tension. When Derek spoke again, his voice was low and intense. "Sophia, I'm trying here. Can you just... can we just get through this dinner without fighting?"
I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Fine. Seven o'clock. I'll be ready."
As I moved to hang up, Derek's voice stopped me. "Sophia, wait."
"What?" I asked, hating the way my heart rate picked up at the softness in his tone.
There was a pause, and for a moment, I thought I heard him take a deep breath. "I... never mind. I'll see you tomorrow."
The line went dead, leaving me staring at my phone in frustration and confusion. What had he been about to say? And why did I care so much?
I leaned back in my chair, one hand unconsciously moving to rest on my still-flat stomach. "Oh, little one," I murmured. "Your father is going to drive me crazy."
As I gathered my things to leave for the day, I couldn't shake the memory of Derek's voice - the moments of softness breaking through his professional facade, the tension that seemed to crackle between us even over the phone.
Despite the anger and frustration of our conversation, there was an undercurrent of something else. Something that made my skin tingle and my heart race. Something that, if I was honest with myself, had been growing for weeks.
But as I stepped into the elevator, I pushed those thoughts aside. Whatever was happening between Derek and me - whatever confusion of attraction and animosity was brewing - I couldn't afford to dwell on it. Not with our case in jeopardy, not with dinner at the Hawthorne estate looming, and certainly not with a baby on the way.
Tomorrow, I'd face Derek and his mother. I'd be polite, professional, and "appropriate." And if my heart skipped a beat when I saw him, if I found myself wondering what he'd been about to say before he hung up... well, that was just hormones. Nothing more.
Right?
- Writer
