The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第36章 The Reintroduction

       Mallory arrived precisely at 8:45 a.m.—fifteen minutes early. I caught the soft knock on my office door before Mia ushered her in, both women smiling.

"Eden, this is Mallory Kingsley," Mia said warmly, but before I could extend my hand, Mallory's attention shifted to Mia. The two embraced with the ease of old friends, laughing softly like they'd shared this routine for years.

"Family events," Mia explained with a shrug, almost apologetic. "We've crossed paths more than a few times."

I smiled, tucking away the small pang I felt in my chest. "Well, Mallory, welcome officially. It's a pleasure to have you on the team."

She turned to me then, offering her hand. Her grip was firm, professional, her expression poised. "Thank you, Ms. Hayes. I'm eager to get started."

I nodded, gesturing toward the hallway. "Let's get you settled. I'll show you around, introduce you to the staff you'll be working closely with, and then take you to your office."

We moved through the corridors together, my voice calm and practiced as I pointed out key departments, explained the workflow, and laid out expectations. Mallory listened attentively, asking the occasional sharp, thoughtful question that told me she wasn't here to play small. She was competent, confident—the kind of presence that made an impression immediately.

When we reached her office, she paused in the doorway, taking in the space. "This is perfect," she said simply, setting her leather-bound notebook on the desk.

I smiled politely, though my thoughts were elsewhere. Because I knew what came next.

"Before you get settled in, there is one person I'd like you to meet. He is our biggest client, and stationed right here in out office," I said smoothly. "He's been expecting to meet the new liaison."

Her lips curved into something faint, knowing—but unreadable. "Of course."

We walked the short distance to his office, the air between us quiet. When I opened the door, Kenji stood from behind his desk. His gaze flickered first to me, then to Mallory, and in that instant, the room shifted.

"Kenji Ito," I began, feigning the role of facilitator, "this is Mallory Kingsley, our new liaison for the Japan division."

Before I could continue, Mallory's eyes softened, and she stepped forward. "Kenji," she said with familiarity, reaching as though to embrace him.

But Kenji didn't mirror the gesture. Instead, he extended his hand, his expression polite but resolutely professional. "Mallory," he acknowledged evenly, his voice calm but distant. "It's been a long time."

Her movement faltered for just a breath before she adjusted, slipping her hand into his. The handshake was brief, businesslike, and her smile held steady—though I didn't miss the flicker of surprise in her eyes.

Standing to the side, I watched carefully, reading every nuance in the exchange. His restraint. Her momentary hesitation. The unmistakable history humming quietly beneath the surface, even as both masked it in professionalism.

"Shall we?" I said lightly, cutting the moment before it stretched too far. I turned back toward the hallway, Mallory falling into step beside me while Kenji remained behind his desk, his expression unreadable.

And though there had been no visible tension, no words spoken beyond what was proper, I felt it all the same—the ghost of something unspoken that lingered in the air as we walked away.

      That evening, when I finally had a quiet moment at my desk, the weight of it pressed down on me. I had spent the day smiling, guiding, explaining—yet inwardly, I couldn't shake the unease. Mallory was poised and professional, but she wasn't just another hire. She was part of Kenji's past, a past I hadn't been prepared to face so soon.

Worse, Mallory wasn't the only one. Aya still lingered on the edges of my workday, her presence quiet but sharp, like a reminder of unfinished battles. I told myself I could handle her—Aya's barbs were predictable, manageable. But Mallory... Mallory was different. She carried history with her, one that wasn't mine to control or erase.

And while Kenji's choice at that introduction—his careful professionalism, his refusal to indulge in old familiarity—had reassured me, I couldn't deny the knot of worry tightening in my chest. Could I truly navigate the demands of my role while balancing both Mallory and Aya in my orbit?

I drew in a breath, steadying myself. Whatever complications the board had put in place, whatever ghosts the past insisted on dragging forward—I had promised Kenji I was all in. And some loves, I reminded myself, were worth every complication.