We Were Never Meant To Last

We Were Never Meant To Last - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 — The First Clash

The boardroom was already humming with low conversation when Sophie walked in, laptop tucked under one arm.

She scanned the table — marketing team on one side, PR on the other. And at the far end, leaning back in his chair like he’d been born to sit there, was Ethan Cross.

He looked up as she entered. One slow glance over her, like he was weighing whether to smirk or stay silent. He chose the smirk.

Sophie sat two seats away from him, deliberately avoiding his line of sight.

The CEO began the meeting, outlining the new luxury campaign launch for their flagship hotel. Sophie kept her focus on the presentation slides, fingers tapping quietly against her laptop keys.

“Now, the marketing and PR teams will need to collaborate closely on this,” the CEO said. “We’re looking for bold ideas, something that positions us above every competitor in the city.”

Before Sophie could speak, Ethan leaned forward. “I have one.”

Of course he did.

“We should scrap the planned press conference,” he continued, “and instead host an exclusive influencer retreat at the property. No public announcements until the event is over. We build hype through leaks — staged, of course. Creates mystery. Exclusivity sells.”

A few murmurs of approval went around the table. Sophie bit her tongue.

“Or,” she said evenly, “we could stick to the press conference, control the narrative, and avoid the chaos of inviting influencers to treat our hotel like their personal playground.”

Ethan tilted his head toward her, eyes glinting. “Chaos can be controlled. And it’s more memorable than another cookie-cutter press conference.”

“It’s also a PR nightmare when an influencer posts something inappropriate from the property,” she shot back.

The CEO looked between them, intrigued. “Interesting points on both sides.”

But Ethan wasn’t finished. “Tell me, Blake… afraid you can’t handle a little unpredictability?”

The words were silk over steel, a challenge she felt deep in her chest.

Sophie leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “I handle unpredictability every time I walk into a room you’re in, Cross. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

A few people stifled laughs. Ethan’s smirk faltered for half a second before returning, sharper this time.

The CEO cleared his throat. “We’ll table this for now and revisit after the projections come in.”

As the meeting wrapped, Ethan leaned closer, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“You’re fun when you’re mad.”

Sophie closed her laptop with a snap. “Careful, Ethan. You might find out I’m more than fun.

The room emptied slowly, chairs scraping against polished floors, the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. Sophie took her time gathering her things, letting the others leave first. She wasn’t about to get caught in a hallway bottleneck with Ethan.

But apparently, fate had other plans.

“Going somewhere, Blake?” His voice came from just behind her, that low, teasing register she’d once felt in the dark, against her skin.

She slid her laptop into her bag. “Yes. Away from you.”

He chuckled — deep, smooth, confident. “You used to like being near me.”

Sophie straightened, finally meeting his gaze. “I also used to like pineapple on pizza. People grow out of bad habits.”

His smirk twitched, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his shadow falling across her desk. Not touching, not even brushing against her — just close enough for her body to remember things she’d rather it didn’t.

“You’re still the same, you know,” he murmured. “Pretending you don’t care. Pretending you’re not curious what would happen if you stopped fighting me for one second.”

She gave him a tight smile. “The only thing I’m curious about is how fast I can get security to escort you out if you keep blocking my path.”

He leaned just a fraction closer, enough for his cologne to curl warm in her lungs. “Security won’t save you from me, Sophie. Not when you’re the one opening the door.”

Her pulse stuttered, traitorous, but she forced herself to grab her bag and push past him.

The hallway felt too narrow, her heels clicking faster than usual.

She didn’t look back — but she could feel his eyes on her, lingering, memorising.

By the time she reached the elevator, her breath was uneven.

She jabbed the button, forcing herself to focus on work, not the ghost of his voice in her head.

The doors slid shut, and for a moment, she let herself close her eyes.

God, this man was going to ruin her all over again.