Chapter 5: Business, Not Pleasure.

*Lena*

My heart raced as I rode the elevator, rehearsing my resignation speech in my head. The fabric of my blazer felt constricting as if conspiring with Zara to keep me trapped in this life I so desperately wanted to leave behind.

“I know it’s short notice, but it’s a family emergency,” I repeated over and over again. I had to get this right.

The doors slid open, and I strode purposefully towards Sylvie’s office. I took a breath, my hand hovering over the partially open door. It was now or never. I knocked once, pushed the door open, and walked in. The sight that greeted me, however, made my jaw drop.

Sylvie’s office, which was always in order, looked like a tornado had torn through it. Papers were strewn across every surface, some fluttering to the floor as if caught in an invisible breeze. Her prized collection of sports memorabilia, usually displayed with meticulous care, was in total disarray.

Sylvie didn’t look much better, she looked just as disheveled as her office. She finally looked up at me, her eyes wild with desperation and determination. “Lena,” she said, her voice hoarse, “thank God you’re here. We’re in trouble. Big trouble.”

My carefully prepared resignation speech died on my lips as Sylvie continued, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “The company is on the brink of bankruptcy. We need a miracle, and I think I know what that is.” She paused, taking a deep breath before locking eyes with me. “We need a sports star, someone big, to endorse our brand. It’s our last chance to turn this around.”

Sylvie prodded impatiently. “That’s why I called you here.”

For a fleeting moment, Eason’s face flashed in my mind. His charming smile, those piercing eyes... I shoved the thought away, almost violently. I was trying to get away from him, not work with him. The very idea seemed absurd.

Clearing my throat, I tried to focus on the task at hand. “What about Marcus Reeves?” I suggested, thinking of the star quarterback making waves in the football world. “He’s been all over the sports news lately.

Sylvie shook her head, her messy hair swaying. “Too mainstream. We need someone unexpected.”

“Okay,” I said, racking my brain. “What about Lila Zhang? She just broke the world record in the 400-meter dash.”

Again, Sylvie dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “Track and field doesn’t have the broad appeal we need right now.”

I bit back a sigh, wondering why she’d asked for my input if she was going to shoot down every suggestion. But before I could come up with another name, Sylvie’s eyes lit with a manic gleam.

“I heard about the masquerade ball,” she said, her voice taking on an eager tone that made my stomach churn. “You know Eason Elrod, don’t you”

I panicked, already knowing where this was going. “I… not really,” I responded, trying to discourage her. “We just attended the same college. He doesn’t even know who I am.”

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter,” Sylvie continued, her excitement building. “I need you to ask Eason for an endorsement.”

My heart plummeted, and I could feel the walls closing in around me. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him?

“Sylvie I…” I opened my mouth to protest, but Sylvie was already barreling on, laying out her plans and expectations. “Sylvie…” I tried again, but she kept going on and on about how good it would be for the company.

I felt the blood drain from my face, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure Sylvie could hear it. The mere thought of seeing Eason again made my chest tighten, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

“No,” I suddenly blurted out, the word escaping my lips before I could even process the consequences. “I’m sorry, Sylvie, but I can’t ask Eason for an endorsement.”

Sylvie gaped at me for a minute, just as surprised as I was at what I’d said. Her face fell, her excitement crumbling into despair. She slumped back in her chair, looking more defeated than I’d ever seen her. For a moment, the office was eerily silent as we stared at each other.

Then, Sylvie’s voice broke the silence, small and vulnerable in a way I’d never heard before. “Lena, you don’t understand. If the company goes bankrupt, I’m not just losing a business. I'm facing a mountain of debt that I’ll never be able to climb out from under.”

I shifted uncomfortably, guilt gnawing at my insides. But Sylvie wasn’t done. She leaned forward, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m a single mom, Lena. This job, this company... it’s all I have to take care of my little girl.”

My breath caught in my throat as Sylvie reached for a frame on her desk, turning it to face me. The photo inside made my heart clench painfully.

A small, frail-looking girl stared back at me from the picture. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, with dark circles under her eyes that seemed too big for her tiny face. Her hair, wispy and thin, was partially hidden by a colorful headscarf. Despite her obvious illness, she was smiling bravely at the camera, a stuffed rabbit clutched tightly to her chest.

“This is Mia,” Sylvie said, her voice cracking. “She’s fighting leukemia. The treatments... are expensive. Without this job, without this company, I don’t know how I’ll be able to afford them.”

I felt my determination crumbling as I stared at the photo. Sylvie, always so composed and strict, was now openly crying, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. It was the complete opposite of the tough-as-nails boss I’d known for years.

“Please, Lena,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’m asking a lot, but I’m desperate. This could be our last chance to save the company, to save Mia’s treatment. I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way.”

I looked from the photo of Mia to Sylvie’s tear-streaked face. I couldn’t put my urge to escape above this child’s life.

I took a deep, shaky breath, hoping that I was doing the right thing. “Alright,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it. I’ll ask Eason for the endorsement.”

The change in Sylvie was immediate and startling. Her tears seemed to vanish instantly, replaced by a bright smile. She straightened, some of her usual composure returning as she reached for a post-it note on her cluttered desk.

“Thank you, Lena,” she said, her pen scratching across the paper. “You have no idea what this means to me, to Mia.” She held out the note, and I took it, nodding silently. An address was scrawled across it in Sylvie’s neat handwriting. I frowned, confused.

“Eason should be at this location right now,” Sylvie explained, her tone businesslike once more.

I was suspicious for a moment. How did Sylvie know where Eason would be? And why did she have this information so readily available? It seemed as though she had planned this all along, counting on my agreement.

“I’ll head there right away,” I said, tucking the note into my pocket.

I hadn’t planned on seeing him again, and only a day after our previous encounter. But I didn’t have a choice. I had to face him.

—

It didn’t take much time for me to locate the address. The moment I did, I felt my nerves taking over, confirming that I wasn’t ready to see him again. As I walked past the main rink, memories flooded back.

I could almost see Eason and me, laughing as we skated across the LA rink. I remembered how he would pull me to the center ice, marked by the team’s Eagle logo, and kiss the living daylight out of me.

This rink, however, didn’t hold any memories of us and was designed with midnight blue, neon green, and white. I almost laughed when I noticed the team logo. A wolf. How ironic.

Shaking off the memories, I approached a staff member, asking for Eason’s whereabouts. He looked apprehensive for a moment, hesitantly directing me to Eason’s private dressing room. Two minutes later, I was standing in front of a white door. My hand hovered over it, poised to knock, when suddenly it swung open.

Time seemed to stand still as we stared at each other, both frozen in place.

Eason looked... different, yet achingly familiar. His hair was slightly longer than I remembered, tousled as if he’d just run his fingers through it. He wore a fitted black t-shirt that clung to his athletic frame, paired with track pants that hung low on his hips. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, evidence of a recent workout.

But it was his eyes that captured me, those deep brown eyes that I’d dreamed about constantly. They widened in surprise, a truckload of emotions flickering across them too quickly for me to decipher. Was that pain I saw? Longing? Or was I projecting my feelings onto him?

As I stood there, rooted to the spot, I became aware of his scent. It was different from what I remembered – gone was the citrusy cologne he used to wear. Instead, there was a warmer, woodsier fragrance, with hints of sandalwood and something spicy I couldn’t quite place. It was intoxicating, and I found myself unconsciously leaning closer.

I don’t know how long we stood there, drinking each other in, lost in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. All I knew was that despite my best efforts, despite the years of separation and the walls I’d tried to build around my heart, one look at Eason had shattered them all.

He finally looked away, breaking the spell. He stepped aside, opening the door wider as he cleared his throat. “Come in.” His tone was simple, curt, business-like. And it hurt.

I nodded, put my feelings aside, and stepped into his dressing room. The space was smaller than I expected but meticulously organized. The large mirror, surrounded by bright bulbs, let me see all of Eason’s personal touches. A framed jersey, with the number 91 stitched on the back in neon green hung on one wall, while a collection of awards lined a shelf above a small desk.

We sat down on the sleek black couch that dominated one wall, the leather creaking softly beneath us. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and it hurt to realize what had become of us. I opened my mouth to speak, but Eason cut me off before I could utter a word.

“What are you doing here, Lena?” His voice was sharp, accusatory. “Come to break my heart all over again?” I flinched at his tone, but he continued relentlessly. “Five years, Lena. Five years of silence, and now you just show up out of the blue? What gives you the right?”

His words stung, but I had to remember that I’d hurt him first. I bit my lip, swallowing the retorts that threatened to spill out. My pride warred with the need to help Sylvie.

“Have you also forgotten how you ran away from me last night? Every single time I see you, you’re trying to get away from me.”

I said nothing, allowing him to pour out all his anger and frustration.

Eason seemed to falter at my lack of response. He studied me intently, his brow furrowing. “You want something, don’t you? That’s why you’re here.”

I nodded slowly, my hand moving to my bag. As I rummaged through it, searching for the contract Sylvie had given me, I saw a flash of panic cross Eason’s face.

“Wait,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding panicked. “What was it you said before? About marrying a rich man?” His eyes darted to my bag, wide with apprehension. “Did you... did you find one?”

I froze, my hand still in my bag. The vulnerability in his voice made me look up, meeting his gaze. Dropping my eyes, I whispered, “Yes, I found one. We’re engaged.” My heart clenched even as I said the words, but I had to murder any hope he had of us getting back together.

The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel Eason’s eyes boring into me. When I finally gathered the courage to look at him, the raw pain on his face nearly broke me.

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn’t take it back now. I watched as emotions flickered across his face – hurt, anger, disbelief. His hands clenched into fists on his knees, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “The man who helped you at the masquerade ball. That’s your rich fiancé?”

I hesitated, the lie already spiraling out of control. But I couldn’t bring myself to deny it, so I remained silent, letting my lack of response confirm his suspicion.

Eason’s reaction was immediate and fierce. He shot up from the couch, pacing the small confines of the dressing room like a caged animal. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and I could see the muscles in his jaw working as he ground his teeth.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “All this time, and you’re engaged to some random rich guy?”

The hurt in his voice was obvious, and for a moment, I almost confessed the truth.

“Eason,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here on business,” I continued, holding up the folder. “Our company is looking for a famous ice hockey star to work with. It’s a professional proposal, nothing more.”

Eason stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his entire demeanor changed. The vulnerability he’d shown earlier vanished, replaced by a mask of cool indifference. He straightened, tilting his head back proudly.

This was going to be harder than I thought.