Page 158 of The Worst Best Man
“Your one o’clock is here,” Oscar announced, poking his head in Aiden’s office doorway.
“My what?” Aiden looked at his open calendar on his monitor. Who the hell was he supposed to—
She walked in wearing the red dress that haunted his dreams.
Aiden wasn’t even aware that he’d risen from his desk so suddenly that his chair went spinning behind him.
“Franchesca?”
Had he finally lost his damn mind? Was he missing her so much he was now hallucinating her instead of catching the ghost of her scent, the echo of her laughter?
“May I come in?” she asked.
It felt as if a bolt of lightning struck the carpet that separated them. The room was charged with electricity. He knew by the parting of her lips, by the guarded expression on her face, that she felt it too.
It was pathetic how grateful he felt just to see her again. His heart pounded in his chest as if it knew that everything came down to the next few minutes of his life. And he wasn’t in control.
Franchesca was.
Oscar quietly shut the door, and Aiden knew it must have cost him dearly.
“Of course,” Aiden said gruffly. He wanted to cross to her, to take her in his arms and bury his face in her hair. Instead, he gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please. Sit.”
She sat, crossing one leg neatly over the other, and he went rigidly hard. His cock had no shame. The woman who had destroyed him, who had turned the life he’d built into an empty shell, still made him want.
He’d crawl to her if he thought for a second it would work. But Frankie didn’t want a man who crawled.
“I have a proposition for you,” she began, slipping a folder from her bag.
She handed it to him across the desk, and when their fingers brushed, he knew without a doubt this woman would never leave his system. A storm was brewing between them, and he only hoped that when it broke, he wouldn’t be alone.
“I’m listening,” he said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He pulled his chair back and sank into it.
If she noticed, she didn’t let on. Frankie cleared her throat. “Okay, there’s a new gap in small business services in Brooklyn. I know the neighborhoods, I know the business owners. They need guidance, mentoring. They need education. They need loans and grants.”
She was pitching him a fucking business proposal?
“I know you, Aiden. I know that all levels of entrepreneurship interest you. And it could start here,” she flipped to a page in his packet and tapped a finger on a map of her parents’ neighborhood. “Six storefronts are for sale on this block alone. The buildings themselves need some work, but they’ve got good bones. Most of the apartments are rented.”
She talked real estate and revitalization, and Aiden felt his interest pique despite his profound disappointment.
She had photos of the street, detailed maps of neighborhood parking, the real estate listings, rental unit potential, and even an itemized list of types of stores that were missing from the neighborhood.
She talked about weekend farmers markets, about block parties and restaurants with outdoor seating. She painted a pretty picture.
“You could make a difference one city block at a time. You don’t have that kind of real estate potential here in Manhattan. Not anymore. Think of the communities you could build, the small businesses you could support and watch grow. You’d need a development center. Something that could guide new businesses and help older owners take advantage of new technologies.”
“And who would manage it?” he asked.
“Me.”
Aiden’s gaze flew to her face. “You’re asking me for a job?” He didn’t know whether to be impressed or furious.
“Oh, Aide, I want you to give me a lot more than that.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Her heart hadn’t stopped hammering against her ribs since she walked in here. Seeing him was hard. So impossibly hard. He was just as beautiful as before. But there was a wall between them. One that she had built. One that was up to her to tear down.
