Page 26 of One Night in Vegas

“I’m not interested in exciting,” she shot back.

“Really? Interesting. Do you travel at all? Get away for the weekend from time to time?”

She refused to show any kind of reaction to my questions. If she recognized me, she wasn’t letting on. It was pretty fucking insulting to think I was that forgettable.

“I don’t travel often,” she said. “It’s usually a special occasion.”

“Do you give notice when you take these trips?” I asked with a tight smile. “Or do you just get up and go? If you need to go home or take a day off, do you leave a note? Do you schedule it? Would I be able to count on you to be here every morning?”

She looked at me with those brown eyes I remembered so distinctly from that night in Vegas. “I’m a very responsible person. I have only called in sick one day since I’ve started working. I’ve always given proper notice for any time I needed off. I’ve only taken very little time off. I work all the time. Sometimes, I do take a couple days off and have some fun with my friends.”

“Are you a partier?” I asked. “Do you drink a lot and do things you regret when you’re sober?”

Her jaw clenched. I was getting to her. I wanted to unnerve her. Her eyes flashed with what looked like anger. I hoped like hell she thought I was a dick. I wanted her to get pissed and walk out of this damn interview. As if I could ever let her into my world after what she had done to me. I wanted to push her buttons and unsettle her.

“I think we have all made mistakes in the past,” she said. “When we’re young, we tend to do things that are just a little reckless. We don’t think about consequences to our decisions. When I was younger, I probably did make some choices I wouldn’t repeat today. But I believe people grow and mature. They change. They make better decisions. I know I do.”

“Interesting,” I said.

We stared at each other for what seemed like forever. She looked the same. Maybe a little fuller in the hips and boobs, but she was still the same woman. I had fantasized about those eyes for years. Now, they were three feet in front of me. Those eyes and those lips were within reach. I wanted to kiss her and drop her out the window at the same time.

“Did you have any more questions for me?” she asked sweetly.

I tapped my fingers on the desk. “Why did you apply for this job?”

I wanted to know if she did it on purpose. Was she trying to screw with me? Did she truly not remember my name? I didn’t understand why it was my job she chose. Out of all the jobs in the city she could have applied for, she chose mine. That couldn’t be a coincidence. She was doing it on purpose. She was fucking with me. There was just no way she didn’t remember me. I refused to believe she could share a night of passion like that and completely blank on the face. I knew I looked the same. I sported a little different hairstyle, but not that different.

But if she recognized me, why was she sitting there acting like she didn’t?

“My friend told me about it,” she answered. “She mentioned it was a position at a good company. I decided to go for it.”

“Does your friend work for me?”

“No,” she replied. “Not technically. She told me about the company but not much else.”

I nodded and listened to what she wasn’t saying. She didn’t know I was the CEO. “I see,” I said. “Well, that’s all I have for the day.”

She got up walked to the door without saying thank you for the interview. She didn’t say anything. I wasn’t about to let her walk out that easily.

“Thanks for coming in, Ms. Stiles.”

She turned around to look at me. “I know who you are,” she said. “I never forget a face.”

She walked out of my office while I was left with the smell of her lingering perfume. She knew who I was.

I wasn’t sure if I felt better or worse. I had suspected she did, but I couldn’t know for sure.

She knew who I was, and she knew I knew who she was. Was it my name or my face she recognized? Did she figure out who I was the day she walked into the first interview?

I didn’t think so. The look of utter surprise on her face when she saw me in the waiting area made me think she had somehow gotten to this stage of interviews without knowing who I was. She had been shocked as hell to see me.

I hoped she was also feeling a little guilty. Guilt and a shitload of regret. This was a lot like Peter had talked about. She was getting to see who I was and what she’d missed out on. That was just a little satisfying.

I walked back to my desk and laughed. What else could I do but laugh? The whole thing was ridiculous. There were a million different ways we could have run into each other and this was what the universe decided to pull.

11

MACY