“No. I will. This is just the easiest way for me to convey what I want.”
My heart flutters. Here comes the part where he tears my dreams to shreds. The Soul Collector will emerge at any moment and tell me these numbers simply aren’t possible. Not fathomable for a woman like me. But I stand my ground. I’ve done my research. I’ve consulted with people in the field, even potential contributors. This proposal will work. With or without the apprenticeship. With or without Zach’s stamp of approval.
His mouth opens to argue, but I quickly continue with my explanation. “This would allow me to run a separate program altogether, tied to the practice I’m working for. I could run the fundraising, while they provide the credibility and someone for me to work under. They would still be eligible to receive the grants and be given higher prestige in the community for assisting lower-income families. It would also, as you said, open them up for future clients with some amazing PR campaigning. And if I don’t get the apprenticeship, I have the start of a business plan to execute on my own.”
“And where would you get the funding for that?” he asks.
“Marianne set me up with someone already.” The confused look on his face satisfies me more than I would like to admit. He has helped me get here. Just like he wanted. But perhaps he didn’t realize how far I’d go when given the right resources. “We would have to start out small, but then those outrageous numbers, as you call them, would just be a projection goal.”
He stares in silence.
That same affectionate sparkle ignites his gaze, and I know I’ve met his approval in one way or another. A smile twitches at the corner of his lips. “Have you been talking to Marianne all this time?”
“Since you introduced us. You were right. She is indispensable.”
“Fine.” He nods, submitting to my ideas and offering a congratulatory smile. He collects the papers and places them in his briefcase. “Give me a few days to look this over. I’ll send over any final notes I have for your plan.”
Damn it. He’s already trying to shut me out. He’s barely even looked at me this whole meeting. I can’t go down without even trying, without laying everything I have to say out on the line. I’m not sure where I’m going to start, or what I’m going to say.
All I know is Zach Hawthorne is not walking out that door without hearing me out.
“Fine. But we’re not done here.”
He freezes.
His gaze finally lifts to mine, weaving back and forth, studying my face to discern my exact motives. I’m sure by now he can tell. The flush of pink in my cheeks must tell all. His eyes dip lower, toward my mouth. I tip forward, the way I’ve seen other girls do when trying to draw attention to their breasts. My movement lands the mark, and the blush in my cheeks surges into a savage burn.
“No?” He lifts his stare slowly to meet mine. The final traces of desire vanish behind a thin veil of indifference. He can pretend all he wants, but he’s already shown himself; what he wants.
I rise to my feet.
His pensive gaze follows me, straying down to the sway of my hips as I walk toward him. I place myself between him and his desk and lean back against the edge. Even sitting down, he is almost as tall as me. His eyes move up the length of me, over the black faux leather skirt hugging my curves and shrinking in the middle of my waist. They continue upward, over my breasts that are partly exposed due to the shocking neckline of my blouse.
When his stare touches mine, there is no longer that lingering doubt. There is no denial of his feelings for me, of how badly he wants me. And there is no mistaking how badly I want to make this happen, nor how far I’m willing to go to make him mine. I’ve come a long way from someone who just sits on the sidelines to someone not afraid to take what she wants. But I’m tired of the games.
Tired of waiting.
“I know you said you wanted to wait until the semester is over,” I say, my voice nearly a whisper. “But if I’m not worth the risk now, I won’t be worth the wait.”
“Aly…” His voice is a low grumble. I feel it all the way down to the pit of my stomach.
“Just let me finish.” I stop him, leaning forward and placing a hand on his chest. His pulse drums as wildly beneath my palm as my own does in my ears. “I know what’s at stake if I do this. If someone catches us. I’m willing to put what I have on the line. I’ll just forge another path for what I want, the same way I have always done.”
My hand slides up his shoulder. I know these muscles well. I know every inch of this part of him, still curious to uncover more.
“I’m willing to sacrifice it all,” I say. “For you.”
“And if I still say no?”
I stop, paralyzed by the implication in his words. My hand drops to my side. “Then I’ll have my answer. But don’t expect me to wait for you.”
His cold facade crumbles, and he groans. His fingertips climb to the bridge of his nose, pinching the slender bone between his grip. “You can’t give me an ultimatum, Aly. That isn’t fair.”
“I’m not giving you an ultimatum,” I explain, heat rising to my words. “I’m not demanding you make a decision to save yourself. There are no threats, nothing attached. I’m just asking that you be fair with my feelings. I can’t wait another two months for you to decide you don’t want me at the end of them.”
He stares at me silently, as if he hadn’t expected me to make that connection so quickly. A sharp pain stabs its way into my chest. My God. Is there already someone else?
“It’s not like that.” He shakes his head. “You’re not being reasonable. I need more than a minute to make a decision.”