Chapter 2

Gracie's soft voice dispelled the silence, drawing me into Mr. Callaghan's captivating gaze. His warm, enigmatic smile unfolded, illuminating his chiseled features. Time seemed to pause.

As our hands touched, a jolt of electricity ran through me. His firm handshake yielded to a gentle, lingering kiss on my skin. Shivers danced down my spine. His eyes, bright with genuine interest, held mine, sparking an undeniable connection.

"Delighted, Emily," he whispered, his low, velvety voice weaving a spell. Our smiles intertwined, and conversation flowed effortlessly, like a tranquil summer evening, filling the air with promise. His words dripped with sincerity, and I found myself entranced.

As I extended my hand, Mr. Callaghan's gaze locked onto mine. I attempted to withdraw, but he held firm, his lips grazing my skin in a gentle, lingering kiss. "Enchanted, Miss Wilburn," he murmured, his voice low and velvety.

His unexpected gesture left me breathless. Gracie's subtle nudge brought me back to reality. Hastily, I reclaimed my hand, attempting to compose myself.

Our boss, Mrs. Rose, swept into the room, radiating warmth. "Mr. Callaghan, darling!" she exclaimed, embracing him warmly. Her eyes sparkled with delight.

Gracie whispered mischievously beside me, "Operation Husband Hunt has officially begun." Her sly smile hinted at amusement. I shot her a warning glance.

My mind reeled, consumed by the earlier encounter. Will Mr. Callaghan's charm mask professional resentment? Will our presentation crumble beneath his disapproval? My rudeness and pushiness now seemed reckless, threatening our crucial contract.

Mrs. Rose' voice snapped me back to reality. "Let's begin." I hastily refocused on my laptop, fingers trembling slightly.

As I launched into the presentation, anxiety simmered beneath my professional facade. One misstep could sabotage months of tireless effort. Mr. Callaghan's expression revealed nothing, his piercing gaze unnerving.

Gracie's reassuring glance bolstered my confidence. I pressed on, highlighting key points and striving for conviction. My voice steadied.

Please, I silently implored, don't let my earlier blunder ruin everything. Our team's future hangs in the balance.

Minutes after I finished, Mrs. Rose turned to Mr. Callaghan. "What were your impressions?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. My heart skipped a beat, awaiting his response.

“The concept is to make the image of my company look good.”

Mr. Callaghan's piercing gaze swept across the room, his expression unreadable. "I expect unparalleled excellence in branding, and frankly, other agencies have left an indelible mark."

Gracie's face fell, her eyes widening in desperation. "We've poured our hearts, souls and creativity into this proposal. Every detail reflects our passion."

Mr. Callaghan rose, his tone firm, yet tinged with disappointment. "I need more than effort; I need game-changing innovation. Something that electrifies. Sorry, but I'll consider alternative partners."

Mrs.Rose' voice trembled, urgency edging her words. "Please, Mr. Callaghan, don't dismiss us so quickly. One more chance? We'll redefine brilliance."

Mr. Callaghan's piercing gaze locked onto mine, his expression unyielding. "Once I've moved on, I never look back," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion.

With a curt nod, he turned to leave, his secretary shadowing him. "Have a lovely day," he added, the polite phrase contrasting sharply with his dismissive tone.

The door closed, enveloping the room in an uncomfortable silence. Rose' voice trembled, desperation creeping in. "Our one chance at recognition, our ticket to stardom, slipped away."

Gracie's eyes welled up, her voice cracking. "We genuinely gave it our all – our hearts, souls and creativity."

Michael's resignation hung heavy, laced with disappointment. "I guess it's really over. Our dreams, shattered."

I stood frozen, guilt washing over me in waves.

Ashen-faced, I replayed our meeting, self-blame consuming me. "This is all because of me," I thought, regret suffocating me. Our meticulous presentation, flawless strategy and fervent passion—wasted.

Determination ignited within. "We won't lose this contract!" I declared firmly to my team, resolve etched on my face.

Racing downstairs, I frantically chased Mr. Callaghan. The cool air slapped me as I burst outside. His sleek car beckoned. "Mr. Callaghan, wait!" I pleaded desperately, grasping his arm.

He spun, eyebrow raised, surprise flickering. "What's this?"

"I need to talk to you," I urged, desperation edging my trembling voice. "Please, reconsider. Give us another chance."

Mr. Callaghan's piercing gaze lingered before releasing his arm, dismissing my plea. "We've exhausted this conversation," he stated flatly.

Desperation swelled within me, threatening to overwhelm. "Please, Mr. Callaghan, just one moment," I implored, voice trembling.

His eyes narrowed slightly, skepticism evident. "Proceed," he commanded curtly.

I poured my heart out, emotions raw. "That presentation was our masterpiece – countless hours, sweat, and tears. Our team's dedication, passion, and creativity. Don't let my mistakes sabotage our collective effort, our dreams, and our futures."

"Don't turn It down because of me.”

Mr. Callaghan's piercing gaze intensified, scrutinizing my every word. "Why assume my rejection was personal?"

I hesitated, shame and regret washing over me like a tidal wave. "My behavior was unacceptable, unprofessional," I admitted, voice laced with remorse. "I'm truly, deeply sorry for pushing you, for my thoughtless rudeness."

His expression softened slightly, hinting at understanding. "Apology accepted," he said graciously. "However, your proposal fell short, regardless."

Disappointment stung, frustration simmering. "Then give us another chance," I implored passionately. "Let us refine our presentation, address your concerns, and showcase our true potential. Our team's future hangs precariously in the balance."

Mr. Callaghan's words cut deep. "Giving you another chance would be futile. I promise you, nothing will change."

Desperation crept into my voice. "I'm sorry, please reconsider."

His expression turned resolute. "I'm afraid it's a definitive no, Miss Wilburn. Your agency is off my list."

I grasped his arm, pleading. "Please, Mr. Callaghan, don't dismiss us."

He gently freed himself. "My decision is final."

With a swift turn, he slid into his car and sped away, leaving me shattered.

CADE’S POV

My secretary's warm greeting contrasted sharply with my despair. "Welcome back, Sir. Any messages?"

“Your mother called," my secretary announced, "and Miss Jessica is waiting in your office."

Surprise and unease swept over me. "What? Why is Jessica here?"

"She claimed you were expecting her," my secretary replied, her tone neutral.

I entered my office, finding Jessica radiant, her eyes sparkling.

"My love, you're back!" Jessica exclaimed, embracing me tightly, her warmth suffocating.

I gently pushed her away, confusion and wariness etched on my face. "Why are you here, Jessica? I thought we agreed—"

Her smile faltered, vulnerability flickering. "I came to see you, to reconnect."

I sighed, frustration simmering. "Didn't you receive my flowers and letter yesterday? I thought I made my feelings clear."

I received them, and I am telling you, right here, right now that I won't accept it.

Jessica's eyes blazed with hurt. "You're ending it, aren't you? The flowers were your subtle goodbye."

I met her gaze, unwavering. "Our arrangement was clear: passion, no commitment. Don't cling to something that never existed."

Jessica's voice trembled. "Because of issuable , your island wife? You're choosing duty over desire?"

My tone turned resolute. "I never promised forever. Our secret was thrilling, but temporary. Don't make this messy."

Jessica's eyes pleaded. "Why end it? Keep me as your mistress. Your island wife will never know.

"You don't have to leave me Cade, we can continue our secret intimacy , she need not know that you have me as a mistress"

"You'd feel cherished if someone discarded you like yesterday's trash?" I asked, anger simmering beneath my composed facade.

Jessica's eyes blazed with hurt and betrayal. "You're heartless! Our secret affair meant everything to me, yet nothing to you. How could you be so callous, so calculating?"

"I warned you, Jessica," I replied firmly, a hint of regret seeping into my tone. "No strings attached. Our arrangement was clear from the start."

Jessica's expression twisted in anguish. "You used me," she spat, venomous resentment dripping from her words. "A ruthless womanizer, buying love and discarding hearts like trash. Did our moments together mean nothing?"

"My wealth, not my heart, was what you sought," I countered, my voice unwavering despite the turmoil within.

Jessica's face contorted in rage and despair. "You're a monster!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the room as she stormed out, leaving shattered emotions in her wake.

As I sank into my plush leather chair, exhaling deeply, I felt relieved. Another mistress gone. I'd grown accustomed to this familiar cycle.

I always made my situation crystal clear: a fiancée, waiting patiently on the island, and I wouldn't commit. Yet, they'd eagerly accept, enticed by the promise of luxury, wealth, and fleeting passion.

Jessica, my latest indulgence, had been exceptional. Her captivating beauty and seductive charm had held my attention for months. But boredom inevitably conquered passion. My attention span was fleeting; once sated, I discarded.

Now, Jessica's departure signaled freedom. No more clandestine meetings, whispered promises, or manufactured emotions.

Jessica's subtle hints and longing gazes revealed her desire for deeper commitment. But I'd witnessed marriage's disillusionment firsthand – my parents' crumbling relationship, love suffocated by resentment. Their once-passionate union now lay in tatters. I vowed never to fall prey.

My resolve hardened: neither Jessica nor, my island fiancée, would alter my stance. Marriage, to me, meant surrendering freedom, embracing potential heartache. No, I'd maintain control.

My phone pierced the silence. "Sir, Miss Wilburn is here," my secretary announced, her voice measured.

Wilburn? Today's encounter with that fiery, rude beauty flashed into mind. Her piercing eyes, sharp tongue, and unapologetic attitude still lingered. What does she want now?

I have made it clear to her that I don't want them and if she is here to persuade me, I am not going to accept.

"Tell her to..." I paused having a new thought.

I smirked. "By all means, let's hear her sales pitch.

Send her in," I drawled” I said ending the call.