Chapter 45
-Maya’s POV-
Sarah waltzed away, leaving me staring after her with a mind blown wide open. Her revelation hung heavy in the air, the weight of her secret werewolf identity pressing down on me.
How had she figured it out?
Did
my wolf scent give me away somehow? These questions swirled in my head as I mechanically went through the motions of lunch, barely tasting the food in front of me.
By the time I returned to the office, the initial shock had begun to settle, replaced by a cautious curiosity. Ms. Edwards was perched on the edge of my desk, her sharp eyes scanning the designs I had spread out before leaving. She didn’t even look up as I entered, her focus solely on my work.
Tentatively, I cleared my throat. “Ms. Edwards?”
She finally lifted her head, her gaze sweeping across the office. “Ah, Ms. Stone. Back so soon.” A faint smile played on her lips.
“Yes,” I replied, still trying to gauge her reason for being in my office, “I went for lunch and-”
“These are some pretty impressive designs,” she interrupted, her voice devoid of any form of sternness. There was even a hint of genuine appreciation in her eyes.
“Thank you,” I managed, a flicker of relief washing over me. She stood up gracefully, her posture radiating an aura of power. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” she commented, her eyes scanning the personalized touches I’d added to my workspace: a photo of Natalia and I, a motivational quote framed on the wall. “But before we get settled in, I have something I need to discuss with you.”
“Of course,” I said, eager to hear what was on her mind.
“Look,” She began, her voice turning serious, “given everything that happened with your father… the company scandal, his arrest, and the negative publicity it brought to the firm…” She paused, letting the silence hang heavy in the air.
I braced myself, already anticipating her next words. “I have to admit,” she continued, her gaze unwavering, “there were a lot of voices urging me to let you go before you even had a chance to walk back into that door. The whole situation was a PR nightmare, and having you here, the daughter of a disgraced CEO, wasn’t exactly good for optics.”
I swallowed hard, the truth of her words stinging. She had waved dismissively at it before after saying she wasn’t letting me go after I had explained the situation to her but I guess this conversation was long awaited. Coming to Lunar Designs had been a lifeline for me, and the thought of losing it so soon filled me with dread.
She seemed to sense my anxiety, a flicker of something akin to understanding crossing her face. “At the interview, there was a spark in your eyes, a raw talent that couldn’t be ignored. And these designs…” she gestured towards the spread on my desk, “they’re fresh, bold, something entirely different from the usual submissions we receive.”
“The point is,” She continued, her voice firming up again, “I took a chance on you, Ms. Stone. But that chance comes with a price. You have to prove yourself, and on the double. The high–end hotel renovation project – the one I mentioned during your callback-
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Chapter 45
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is a make–or–break opportunity for you, for me, and frankly, for the entire design team, I extended the time for your submissions because I understood your situation but you have to show not just me but everyone else here that I didn’t make a mistake.”
I nodded, the weight of her words settling on my shoulders. The excitement I felt earlier about the project was now tempered with a heavy dose of pressure.
“There’s no room for mistakes here,” She added, her voice leaving no room for argument. “This client is demanding, and their expectations are sky–high. You’ll be working long hours, facing tight deadlines, and dealing with constant scrutiny. Are you up the challenge?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I am.”
A satisfied smile spread across her face, “Good. That’s by the way. I need you to grab your things. We have a meeting with a very important and new client in an hour.”
Before I could ask any questions about the meeting or where we were headed, she was already striding towards the door.
for
The car ride was a tense silence. We sat on opposite sides of the plush leather seats. Ms. Edwards was a whirlwind of activity, her fingers flying across the touchscreen of her phone, efficiently clearing emails and scheduling meetings. I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but steal glances at her, my mind buzzing with questions about the upcoming client meeting and the revelation Sarah had dropped on me earlier. Another question rolled in, why was she bringing me along to meet a new client?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her sharp gaze met mine through the rearview mirror. “I can feel your eyes on me, Ms. Stone. Do you have a question?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, caught red–handed in my act of silent observation. “I, uh, yes,” I stammered. “I was just wondering where we’re going for this client meeting. Knowing the location might help me prepare a bit better, understand the client’s taste and all that.”
A hint of a smile played on her lips. “Not a fan of surprises, are you?” she inquired, amusement flickering in her eyes.
“Not particularly,” I admitted with a sigh. The uncertainty of the situation gnawed at me. Having some information beforehand would allow me to feel more in control, prepared for whatever the client might throw my way.
She chuckled softly, a sound that surprised me with its rarity. “Then I guess I can’t tell you just yet,” she teased. “Part of this is seeing how you handle situations you’re not entirely comfortable with.”
My shoulders slumped in defeat, I had a feeling this car ride wouldn’t be revealing any secrets about the client or the project. Just as I resigned myself to silence, she took me completely off guard with a question that had nothing to do with work.
“Speaking of surprises,” she began, her voice turning serious, “after the news broke about your father’s company…well, let’s just say it caused quite a stir. During that whole mess, I realized who you were, Amaya Stone. I was impressed you hadn’t added that. I like people like you that want to make a name for themselves away from their parent’s shadows. She paused, her gaze holding mine in the rearview mirror. “But something else caught my eye recently. I believe you recently married… Ivan McCall, wasn’t it?”
My jaw dropped. This was the last thing I expected her to bring up.
“Yes, Ivan and I…” I stammered, unsure how to respond. She seemed to sense my hesitation, “Forgive me,” she said, a hint of apology in her voice. “Perhaps this is too personal, and it’s none of my business. But I noticed you haven’t taken his last name yet. Is there a reason for that?”
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Chapter 45
Her question was unexpected, yet oddly intriguing. I hesitated for a moment, torn between keeping things professional and the strange sense of trust that had begun to build between us. Taking a deep breath, I decided to be honest.
“Well, Ivan and I…” I started, then faltered. How could I explain the complicated web of contracts and papers that led to our marriage?
Ms. Edwards must have sensed my struggle. “Look, Ms. Stone,” she said, her voice softening, “you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with. If it’s a sensitive subject, then by all means, we can move on.”
I appreciated her understanding. Perhaps keeping my personal life separate from work was the safer option. Just as I was about to deflect the question, another thought struck me. Maybe, just maybe, sharing a sliver of truth could bridge the gap between us, create a sense of connection beyond the boss–employee dynamic.
I
“It’s not that I don’t want to answer,” I began cautiously. “It’s just… the marriage, it was unexpected. Taking his name, well, it just hasn’t felt right yet.”
I felt a weight lift off my chest as I spoke the words aloud. It was a small confession, but it felt significant in the tense silence of the
car.
Ms. Edwards gave a curt nod, her gaze softening then she went back to her phone After what felt like an eternity, the car jerked to a smooth halt. I jolted slightly, startled out of my thoughts. Ms. Edwards, however, remained unfazed, calmly putting her phone
away.
“Looks like we’re here.”
I glanced out the window, my breath hitching in my throat. “Are we going in there?”
She turned towards me, “Yes,” she answered smoothly, picking up her sleek leather briefcase. “We have a meeting with Mr. Alex Thorne.”
