9 Chapter Nine

One day, Eight hours and…six minutes.

That was how long the text had been sitting in Jensen's inbox. He detested that he was reduced to even knowing how long it had parked itself in his consciousness, taunting him with it's presence.

Taunting him with that gut twisting mix of hope and bitterness he thought he was finally rid of. He detested the fact that it had taken just one text from her to reduce him to this. He hated that she still had that effect on him. After five damn years.

How he wished it were one of those mundane work texts or emails he had become so adept at passing to his assistant to deal with.

Then, from a safe distance, it would have been so easy to tell her to handle it. Or, better yet, delete it.

But here it was. Not handled. Not deleted.

And about as far from mundane as it could get.

Not when he had already read the text. Not when he had already read her name: Katherine Kavell. Just that name alone brought memories back.

He tossed his pen onto the desk in disgust and shoved his chair backwards, swivelling away from the offensive text for good measure.

Fuck this.

Who the hell did she think she was? Not a single word in five years. Then this?

He had held out for almost two days. Long enough for her to know he wasn't going to jump. A fragile but welcome burst of satisfaction settled his ire a little. She needed to know he wasn't the same person who had stumbled away that night — that night he had asked her to stay. A pathetic, emotional wreck.

That man was long gone, after years of living on the edge. In his place was someone he respected better but didn't always like. A man whose future and focus were as steadfast as a striking sledgehammer.

He might have deluded himself into thinking he was different once upon a time, that he could be softer. It had just taken a little longer, and ironically her help, to make him accept his true self.

Ruthless. Competitive. Take no prisoners. Crazy ambitious. And yes, sometimes, utterly selfish in his quest to achieve all the above.

So why wasn't that ruthless selfishness directing his finger to the delete button? One quick tap and she would be erased and forgotten as definitely as she had erased and forgotten him. He could deny it as much as he wanted. But it couldn't change the fact that he had missed her terribly. His reaction to her text was enough proof.

Urggg... He hated this.

Teeth gritted, he fought and irritatingly lost the fight, compulsion swiveling him back around, he picked up his phone which was on his desk.

He looked at the message icon on his screen. Open me. Open me. It seemed to say.

With a tight curse, he clicked on it, he read her message again. His eyes devouring the words.

"I would love for us to meet and discuss this in person" her text read.

He cursed that traitorous little flip in his gut when he lingered on those words.

He sighed. If she was going to be impersonal and so formal. He was going to do the same.

He clicked reply and began to type a message to her with more force than was necessary.

He typed:

"Kat —"

No, scratch that. Best keep things formal. He erased that.

He typed:

Katherine, It is a surprise. It's been what...four... Five years?... I think. You will have to remind me how long it's been if we meet in the future.

Sadly, my schedule is really tight, so I don't think we will be able to meet. Maybe some other time. Or you could text me —about what ever it is you want us to discuss. It could make this go even faster.

You could also contact my staff... It might be something they would be able handle. If it is, then maybe we don't need to meet after all.

Best, Jensen Packard.

He hit 'send' with one last smug little stab at the button and lounged back in his seat.

There.... He thought. He was done with that.

An hour later his glee turned to ash.

He got the message delivered text on his phone. Letting him know she had successfully received his message... Almost immediately. Most likely read it.

Anticipation rose like an unstoppable tide inside him, only to crash back as the seconds ticked by without a further response.

What did he expect? Contrition? Hell, an apology? A plea for him to grant her wish for old times sake despite his rightful disappointment in her?

He didn't know why he was so eager to see her reply. Why he was feeling disappointed when he didn't get any.

That's it... He thought. He needed to go get his brain checked out something.

Delusion soured his mouth. She probably read his text and decided to ignore him again. He thought. Just like she did five years ago. Walking away like he meant nothing to her. She probably decided that she didn't need him anymore. Why would she need a helping hand from him when she could reduce grown men into drooling schoolboys with a flick of her long, seductive eyelashes?

Another sensation stabbed, this time the acrid Jealousy he thought was long in his past.

Fuck it.

He rose from his desk, determined to put greater distance between himself and his phone before he did something foolish—like text her again.

The ping of an incoming message arrested his movement. He picked up the phone. The text was from her.

It read:

Sorry for taking up your precious time, Jensen. And thank you for asking me to pass my request onto your staff.

I'm sure they can handle it. But I just felt it was better to talk to you directly. You know.... Since we used to be really close in the past.

Excuse me for saying this, and perhaps it's just in my imagination, but you sound…cold and distant.

But…whatever. I'm moving back into town in a few days so I guess I will see you soon. I will contact your staff. But I still think we should meet in person. Please let me know when you have a few minutes from your really busy schedule to see me.

And since you asked me to remind you, it's been five years and two months since we last saw each other.