Ciara's POV
There are days when life throws stones at you. Well, maybe it does so deliberately. And then there are days when it throws your past at your face like a brick!
Now, back to reality.
Today was clearly the second category.
I hurried into the conference room of Crestline Marketing Group, clutching my presentation file to my chest and mentally rehearsing the lines I had practiced all night. The silk campaign proposal was important, and Mr. Marcus had repeated that fact approximately twelve times since yesterday.
"Don't embarrass the department, Ciara."
Those were his exact words.
Very motivational.
The conference room was already half full when I stepped in, and the executives sat around the long glass table like judges waiting for entertainment. Tiffany gave me a quick encouraging nod, while Becky simply adjusted her tablet and pretended I didn't exist.
Typical Becky.
I slid into the seat Marcus pointed to and tried to steady my breathing because presentations were never the problem; people were.
"Alright," Marcus cleared his throat, "the CEO will join shortly."
CEO?
That was new.
Marcus usually handled department reviews himself, so the sudden involvement of the CEO meant one thing!
Pressure!!
Oh great!!!
The door opened a moment later.
And that was when my soul temporarily left my body.
Jason walked in.
Not a Jason.
Jason...
Jason Hart.
The man who once knew exactly how I liked my coffee, exactly how to make me laugh, and exactly how to break my heart in the most efficient way possible!
He looked… different.
Older, sharper, and dangerously composed in a dark suit that screamed authority. His presence filled the room so effortlessly that everyone straightened without being told.
Except me.
Because I was busy dying internally, staring...maybe glaring and gritting my teeth in rage. I felt my fist harden.
Jason's gaze swept across the table, calm and assessing, until it landed on me.
For one brief second, something flickered in his eyes.
Recognition.
Then it disappeared like it had never existed.
He took the seat at the head of the table.
"Let's begin," he said.
His voice was smooth, controlled, and criminally familiar.
Marcus gestured toward me.
"Miss Ciara Gibson will present the silk campaign proposal."
Of course, he had to state my full name. Thank you Mr. Marcus! I wanted to throw a fist at him.
Because the universe clearly enjoys dramatic moments.
I stood slowly, smoothing my skirt while my brain tried to remember how breathing worked.
I get it!
In...Out...Pheeeeww!!!
Jason leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his hands as if he were about to watch a movie.
Our eyes met again.
This time the recognition stayed longer.
Not warm.
Not angry.
Just… curious.
I forced myself to look at the screen instead.
"Good morning," I began, and my voice surprisingly cooperated. "The silk campaign focuses on emotional storytelling rather than traditional product marketing because consumers respond more strongly to narrative-driven branding."
Slides changed.
Numbers appeared.
Confidence returned.
Work was my safe place.
"The strategy highlights authenticity while maintaining luxury appeal," I continued, explaining the concept, projections, and target audience while occasionally pointing to the graphs.
The room stayed quiet.
No interruptions.
No skeptical murmurs.
Even Marcus looked impressed.
But Jason said nothing.
He simply watched.
Not the slides.
Me!
Which was slightly unsettling.
I took pauses at intervals to catch my breath and of course avoid stuttering as my mouth could've decided to misbehave as a result of the way his eyes bore into mine.
When I finally finished, I closed the file and looked toward the table...At Jason...Dead in the eye.
"Thank you!" I let out a heavy sigh afterwards.
Silence followed for a second, then the members suddenly remembered to clap.
Then Jason spoke.
"Interesting approach."
His voice was calm, but something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.
"Your projections assume emotional engagement will outperform direct advertising," he continued. "Explain why."
Straight to interrogation.
Lovely.
"Because people buy stories before they buy products," I replied, meeting his gaze. "And silk already sells elegance. What it lacks is connection."
A small pause followed.
Then the corner of his lips moved almost imperceptibly.
"Noted."
Marcus nodded approvingly, while a few executives murmured among themselves.
Becky tapped her pen on the table like she had suddenly developed anxiety.
Jason glanced at the proposal file again.
Then he leaned forward slightly.
"Miss Gibson."
"Yes, sir?"
"Where did you learn to present like that?"
I blinked.
The question felt strangely personal.
"Experience," I said simply.
Another pause.
Jason nodded once.
"Well done."
The words sounded neutral.
But they landed heavier than expected.
Marcus nearly beamed with pride.
"Thank you, sir," I replied.
The meeting continued with discussions I barely heard because my mind was still processing one fact.
Jason Hart.
My ex-boyfriend.
Was now my CEO.
And judging by the way he occasionally glanced in my direction, he had definitely not forgotten. Neither have I.
Which meant one thing.
Working here just became very interesting.
Or very dangerous.
Probably both.
Either way, I'm keeping this job. Not for me, but for my dear sister, Ella. We need this money now than ever.