Destiny remained behind her desk. "What are you doing here?" she asked quietly.
"I'm here for my interview."
Jasmine's eyes grew wide with shock. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. "Destiny?"
Destiny's eyes remained on Aubrey. "We didn't have an interview scheduled."
"But schedules do change," Jasmine said, linking arms with Aubrey and escorting him to Destiny's desk.
Aubrey lowered his gaze to where Jasmine's arm was linked with his until she detached herself from him and returned to her desk. Then, he turned his attention to the petrified looking girl cowering in front of him. "I didn't want to leave things the way they were...last night," he told her.
Destiny had wondered if she'd ever get the chance to talk to him again, but she wasn't quite ready to have this conversation. She needed more time, but didn't know how to tell him that after he had made the effort to find the newsroom office and make the trip here. He was a busy man and she couldn't help but feel flattered that he'd taken the time to track her down. "I don't know if I have anything else to say," she said.
"Is there a place where we can speak privately?"
She glanced to her right. "The conference room."
"Lead the way."
She stared at him for several moments before walking around her desk and gesturing for him to follow.
He slid his hands into the pockets of his black suit pants as he trailed behind her.
She opened a large wooden door and flipped on the light switch. Fluorescent lights flickered on, shining down on a long cherry wood and glass table and the black leather seats that surrounded it.
He stood in the doorway, surveying the room.
She turned and looked at him. "Well?"
He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.
Her heart thumped in anticipation as he turned and lifted his gaze to her face. His dark eyes dragged up the length of her, combing over every inch. He loosened the striped tie at his throat as he walked the length of the room. He didn't stop walking until he came to a stop in front of her. "I'm not used to having women run away from me," he said softly.
"I'm not used to having men proposition me like I'm some streetwalker," she said, meeting his gaze full-on.
The corner of his mouth lifted up into a half-smile.
"I'm glad one of us is amused," she said, pulling back the chair at the head of the table and sitting in it. She folded her hands on top of the table.
He removed his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the nearest chair. Then, he proceeded to remove his tie. While unbuttoning the first two buttons of his dress shirt, he seated himself in the chair to the left of her. His movements were precise and fluid. There was a grace in his movements that she'd only seen in trained dancers. "I apologize for my unsolicited proposition."
"Does that approach ever work for you?" she asked, sounding more curious than angry.
"Yes. Often."
Visuals of him seducing other women entered her mind. She frowned at the thought. "So... instead of seeking out a real relationship, real love, you...enter into arrangements with women that are strictly sexual. That doesn't get old after awhile?"
"It hasn't yet," he responded.
"So you have no interest in finding love."
He shrugged his shoulders, and managed to make even that movement look graceful. "I'm not sure I believe in love."
She raised her brows in disbelief. "Wow." Her expression turned to one of pity.
He shook his head and held up an index finger. "Don't."
"Don't...what?"
"Don't pity me." His voice hardened. "There's no reason to feel sorry for me. I'm a successful man. I've gotten to experience a lot of things in my life. I plan on experiencing a lot more. Love doesn't happen to be one of those things. I'm a realist."
She exhaled. "It's hard not to pity you," she said, leaning forward. "Love is one of the most sought after things in this world, for good reason."
"For good reason? More often than not, it results in heartbreak." He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
"That's a part of why it's so special," she insisted, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. "If love were easy to find, it would be taken for granted. No one would appreciate it."
His eyes sparked and he smiled at her. "You have a very...innocent, naïve way of viewing the world."
"And you have a very pessimistic way of viewing the world," she threw back at him.
He sighed and glanced around the room. "I'm here to grant you the interview that your fellow writers so desperately wanted you to get. Is there anything you want to ask me that can actually go to press? I don't think I need to say that everything we've said up until now cannot be included in an article of any kind."
"I would have prepared questions for you if I'd had warning that you were coming," she said, sitting back in her chair.
"If I'd warned you, would you have agreed to see me?" he asked. It was now his turn to be curious.
"Probably not," she admitted.
He stared down at the table, lapsing into silence.
"Why are you here?" she asked him softly. "I mean, really?"
"I tried to let you walk away from me," he said slowly. "I know that I disappointed you. That you were unhappy with me. So I tried to let you go. Only...I couldn't stop thinking about you."
She rolled her eyes, thinking to herself, Do not fall for this. He's a slick businessman who knows how to manipulate the people around him.
When he finally lifted his gaze to her, his eyes were full of emotion. "I tried very hard to stop thinking about you. I've never had to try to stop thinking about a woman before. If things ended, I was always done. It was systematic for me. But...when it comes to you...I don't know. I don't know, and I don't understand it."
"While I feel for you, I don't understand what you want from me."
"I want...you."