6-The Pact
1057 Words
Three days.
Three long, exhausting days.
That was how long Parker had been working the case with Maxton.
Three days of meetings.
Three days of strategy sessions.
Three days of pretending her heart didn’t react every time he walked into a room.
It was becoming a problem.
A very serious problem.
Because Maxton Sutton was entirely too comfortable around her.
As if six years had never happened.
As if she hadn’t vanished.
As if he hadn’t spent years searching for answers.
As if she hadn’t spent years trying to forget him.
The worst part?
Sometimes she forgot they were supposed to be strangers now.
Sometimes they’d slip into old habits.
Finishing each other’s sentences.
Sharing sarcastic comments.
Arguing over absolutely nothing.
And for brief moments, it felt like they were seventeen again.
Which was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Because seventeen-year-old Parker had been in love with him.
Twenty-four-year-old Parker still was.
She just had more reasons to hide it now.
“You’re staring at the same page.”
Parker blinked.
Across the conference table, Maxton sat reviewing documents.
Or pretending to.
The smug look on his face suggested he’d been watching her for a while.
“I am reading.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I absolutely am.”
“Then what’s on page thirty-two?”
Parker looked down.
Page twenty-one.
Damn it.
A smile appeared.
“Thought so.”
She glared.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The answer came far too quickly.
Far too confidently.
Parker ignored the way her stomach flipped.
Instead, she grabbed her coffee and took a sip.
Big mistake.
Immediately she grimaced.
Cold.
Disgusting.
“That’s what you get for ignoring it for an hour.”
Parker looked up.
“Excuse me?”
Maxton pointed at the cup.
“You always forget your coffee.”
Her chest tightened.
Because he was right.
Again.
At seventeen, he’d constantly steal her coffee before it went cold.
Usually replacing it with a fresh one before she noticed.
Back then she’d thought it was annoying.
Now she realized it had been sweet.
Dangerously sweet.
The memory settled heavily between them.
Neither spoke for a moment.
The conference room suddenly felt smaller.
Quieter.
More intimate.
Outside the glass walls, the city moved as normal.
Inside, time seemed frozen.
Maxton flipped another page.
Casual.
Relaxed.
Far too relaxed.
Then he said—
“You know what’s funny?”
Parker immediately frowned.
Nothing good had ever followed those words.
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.”
“That’s reassuring.”
His mouth twitched.
A sign he was enjoying himself.
Which meant she definitely wasn’t going to enjoy whatever came next.
Maxton leaned back in his chair.
Completely at ease.
The sight annoyed her.
Mostly because she wasn’t at ease.
Not even a little.
“We’re twenty-four.”
The words landed softly.
Parker froze.
Immediately.
Instantly.
Every muscle in her body locked.
Because she already knew where this was going.
No.
Absolutely not.
Not this conversation.
Not today.
Not ever.
Maxton watched her reaction carefully.
Too carefully.
And judging by the satisfaction in his eyes, he’d gotten exactly the response he’d wanted.
“Don’t.”
A slow smile appeared.
“Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“I really don’t.”
Liar.
The man could negotiate billion-dollar deals and dismantle rival organizations before breakfast.
He absolutely knew.
The smile widened.
“The pact.”
There it was.
The word she’d been dreading.
The word that somehow still had the power to unravel her.
Parker looked away first.
Because she couldn’t look at him while thinking about that night.
The stars.
The car hood.
His hand in hers.
The promise.
The hug she’d never forgotten.
A stupid teenage pact.
A joke.
A harmless promise between best friends.
At least that’s what she’d told herself for years.
The problem was that she’d never actually believed it.
Not completely.
Because some part of her had always wondered.
What if?
“What about it?” she asked carefully.
Maxton’s gaze never left her.
“We said if we were both single at twenty-four—”
“I remember.”
The interruption came too quickly.
Too defensively.
His eyes softened.
Just slightly.
“You remember.”
Not a question.
A statement.
Of course she remembered.
She remembered everything.
The exact words.
The exact night.
The exact feeling of hope she’d carried home afterward.
Hope that had terrified her.
Hope she’d buried.
A dangerous silence settled between them.
Neither moved.
Neither looked away.
For the first time in days, the case forgotten.
The documents forgotten.
Everything forgotten except the memory hanging between them.
The memory neither of them seemed willing to let go.
Finally, Maxton broke the silence.
“You know something?”
Parker’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
For a moment, he simply looked at her.
The expression in his eyes unreadable.
Thoughtful.
Dangerous.
Almost vulnerable.
And suddenly she wasn’t sitting across from one of the most powerful men in the country.
She was looking at the boy she’d once loved.
The boy she’d never stopped loving.
The boy who had once promised to marry her.
His voice lowered.
“So many things changed.”
The words felt strangely significant.
Parker’s heart ached.
Because he was right.
Everything had changed.
Them.
Their lives.
Their futures.
Everything except this.
Whatever this was.
This invisible thread that still connected them.
Despite six years.
Despite distance.
Despite heartbreak.
Despite secrets.
His gaze dropped briefly to her left hand.
Then returned to her face.
The movement was subtle.
But Parker noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Because she knew exactly what he was looking for.
A wedding ring.
A husband.
Proof that she’d moved on.
Proof that someone else had taken the place he’d once occupied.
There was none.
Because there never had been.
The realization seemed to settle inside him.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Dangerously.
The room felt too quiet.
Too intimate.
Too honest.
Then Maxton smiled.
Not smug.
Not teasing.
Something softer.
Something infinitely more dangerous.
And with devastating simplicity, he said—
“And neither of us got married.”
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unanswered.
Impossible to ignore.
Parker’s breath caught.
Because suddenly the promise didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
And judging by the look in Maxton Sutton’s eyes—
Neither did he.
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