Page 48 of Making It Burn
“None,” I added.
“Good.Because this is a big deal, gentlemen.MediCorp is watching how we handle this.They want to see that we can work together seamlessly.”He leaned forward and frowned.“Whatever is going between you two, get over it.I don’t care if you two like each other.I don’t care if you want to grab beers after work or if you’d rather never see each other again.What I care about is that you walk into that meeting room in New Orleans and show them the best damn legal team in the Southeast.Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Mason said.
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Excellent.”Carter stood.“Patsy will coordinate the logistics.Flight information, hotel details, meeting agendas—she’ll send everything by noon.Questions?”
I had so many questions.Most of them started with how am I supposed to spend an entire weekend in New Orleans with someone who kissed me and then ran away and ended with, please kill me now.
“No questions,” I said.
“Price?”
Mason shook his head.“I’m good.”
“Then get back to work.I want both of you prepared.Read every document, know every detail, anticipate every question.This is your chance to prove yourselves.”He grabbed his briefcase.“Don’t fuck it up.”
He left.
Patsy waited until the door closed, then turned to us with a grin.“Well, this should be fun.”
“Fun,” I repeated flatly.
“New Orleans!Jazz, beignets, Bourbon Street!”She was way too enthusiastic.“And you two get to spend an entire weekend together.Bonding.Team building.Maybe you’ll actually learn to like each other.”
Mason’s jaw tightened.
“We like each other fine,” I said.
“Right.That’s why the temperature in this room dropped ten degrees when you sat next to each other.”Patsy stood, gathering her things.“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, and honestly?I don’t need to know.But Carter’s right—you need to figure it out.Because if you two can’t work together, this whole merger might fall apart.None of us wants that.”
She left, and suddenly it was just Mason and me in the conference room.
Alone.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
“So,” I said finally.“New Orleans.”
“Yes.”
“Together.”
“That’s what Carter said.”
“For an entire weekend.”
Mason finally looked at me, and for just a second, I saw something crack in his carefully controlled expression.Something that looked like panic, or maybe longing, or maybe both.
“Beau—”
“You haven’t texted me back,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them.“I sent you eight messages Saturday night, and you haven’t responded to a single one.”
“I know.”
“That’s it?You know?”
