Envious Hearts
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Oonagh C. K.
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1.2M
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Chapter 1
CIARA
The bathroom smelled like expensive soap and pure panic—panic that gripped every part of my body like I gripped the marble sink.
My reflection in the mirror showed a whole other person, someone with wild eyes and flushed cheeks. Despite the arctic blast of the AC, a bead of sweat crept down my temple.
This was bad.
No, this was catastrophic.
My phone was already in my hand before I could talk myself out of it. I tapped the name of my best friend, Olivia Quinn.
She picked up after one ring like she’d been expecting this call. “Tell me you crushed it.” Her voice carried hope—ripe for shattering.
I let out something between a laugh and the noise of a dying seal. “I made it fifteen minutes in before running to the bathroom, so…what do you think?”
“Ciara.” The sheer amount of disappointment packed into those three syllables could’ve powered New York City for days.
Defending myself, I cried, “I panicked! He didn’t say a word, Liv! Just sat there, staring at me, looking—” I stopped myself, then huffed, pressing a hand to my forehead.
“Looking what?”
I groaned because, god help me, no human should be allowed to look like Matthew Caldwell. “Like he was sculpted by the gods—and he’s somehow hotter in real life! Seriously, Liv, I think he pays magazines to Photoshop him uglier!”
“Okay, first of all, rude. I’ve seen him in Forbes’ ‘Forty Under 40,’ and now I feel left out. Second, you knew this going in. Matthew Caldwell’s always been rich, successful, and good-looking. I thought you had a plan! What happened to that whole ‘I’m a boss’ speech?”
Scoffing, I said, “Turns out I’m not so much of a boss when the god himself is judging me. He wasn’t even engaged with my presentation—didn’t ask a single question. He just sat there like he was waiting for it to be over.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“If I bomb this,” I continued, my voice low as reality set in, “I’m done. My career’s on the line here. If I don’t land Caldwell Enterprises as a client, I’ll lose my job. Then what? I move back in with my parents at twenty-six? And what if I run into—”
I couldn’t say his name. Olivia, of course, didn’t need me to.
With a softened voice, she said, “Ciara, you’re killing it in New York, and you’ve only been there for about a year, after being savagely dumped by what’s-his-face, who you’d dated since you were fourteen. You’re not running back. I’m not letting you.”
“But if I fail—”
“Then you’ll pick yourself up and prove everyone wrong because that’s what you do. That’s what you’ve always done.”
I exhaled, still shaky but steadier. “Right.” I locked eyes with my reflection and gave myself a firm nod. “Okay. I’ve been in the bathroom long enough. He might think I ran for my life, so I should head back.”
“Give him hell!”
After we said goodbye, I ended the call, shoved my panic into the deepest, darkest pit of my soul, and pulled open the door.
The second I walked back into the conference room, the air shifted in my lungs.
Even though I’d already spent fifteen minutes with Matthew, the sight of him seated at the head of the sleek glass table still took my breath away. His photos had done nothing to prepare me for his sheer presence.
Up close, he was even worse—as in, unfairly attractive.
His perfectly styled dark hair was just tousled enough to make my fingers itch to touch it. His chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, and calculating hazel eyes could stop traffic—and my brain. His clean-cut suit fit so well that the lines of his body were unmistakable.
And the way his sleeves were slightly rolled up, exposing his forearms, only confirmed the hours he’d likely spent in the gym.
No one should be this distracting—especially someone who hadn’t spared me a second glance.
Not during my presentation, and not now.
Even the way he sat, with one hand resting against his chin, screamed both power and disinterest at the same time.
I forced my spine straight, ignored the fact that my face was burning, and walked to my seat, my heart slamming against my ribs. Professional, I told myself. Be professional. You’re not here to stare at him, Ciara. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth—
“You can go,” Matthew said without looking up from his papers.
“What?” I blinked, thinking I’d misheard him.
He leaned back and studied me before adding, “I’ve seen enough.”
My jaw dropped, but then I quickly picked it up. “But I have more to show you.”
“I don’t need to see more.” He stood, buttoned his jacket, and—without another word—walked out of the room.
For a second, I merely sat there, stunned. Then humiliation hit me like a punch to the gut. I packed up my things, keeping my movements slow and controlled.
Because if I rushed, I might break.
I walked out of the meeting room into an empty hallway that led straight to the elevators. My eyes burned with the tears I refused to let out.
My phone rang, startling me, and I fished it out from the bottom of my bag.
“Hi, Mom. Can I call you back later? I’m just leaving a meeting, and this isn’t the best time.”
“We were wondering if you could attend Aunt Carol’s birthday party next week,” my mom said, with Aunt Carol whispering in the background. Only my mom could immediately remind me of another reason why going back home was not an option.
“I’m so sorry. I’d love to, but I’m swamped with work.” It killed me to lie to her, but finding a new job would technically be work, right?
And that was what it looked like I’d be doing for a while.
Footsteps suddenly sounded in the hall—his, most likely. And they were getting closer and closer.
Quickly ducking around a corner, I whispered, “Sorry, Mom, I have to go.” I didn’t let her respond before I hung up on her.
Matthew’s voice carried down the corridor, low and smooth, freezing me as I listened. “She doesn’t seem qualified. Doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing.” He came to a stop by the elevators. “I need someone with more experience. She’s too green.”
My stomach dropped, even though I shouldn’t care this much. It was business, not personal.
Or, it should’ve been. But he had made it feel personal.
Barely listening to my presentation. Hardly looking up from his laptop the whole time I’d been talking. The way his gaze had raked my body the moment I’d met him.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting until the soft chime of the elevator doors signaled that I was clear to move. Then, I stepped out of my hiding spot, hit the down button—and immediately regretted it.
The elevator dinged open, and there he was, standing inside, his hands in his pockets, looking straight at me.
The air crackled. My heart thundered. He had me transfixed.
Until he slowly tilted his head. “Well?” His deep voice was steady. “Are you getting in or not?”
