Shock. My first reaction was shock, though I expertly avoided letting it show. I missed a beat or two, stumbling over my greeting before shaking hands with the C.E.O., who was also eyeing me like I looked familiar to him. I swallowed my discomfort, put on a bright smile, and pretended I wasn't blown the fuck away as we stared into each other's eyes for a little bit too long. Thankfully, Erica didn't seem to notice the oddity.

"Miss Hamilton," Jesse said, his voice sounding slightly hoarse. "Good to meet you."

"You as well."

I did my best to act like being two feet from this man wasn't setting every nerve in my body on fire, and I could tell he was feeling the exact same way.

He recognized me. Shit.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Jesse asked as the three of us wandered back into Erica's office.

I could feel my cheeks heat up and I was thankful my makeup was hiding it.

I faked pondering the thought for a moment and then shook my head. "No. I don't think so."

Jesse's brows furrowed and he pursed his lips like he was confused. "Hmm. I could swear I've seen you someplace before. Are you from around here?"

Crap. I couldn't tell him I was from Minneapolis or Dallas. I remembered telling him about all that on the plane three years ago. Surely, he'd remember, too.

"No. I just moved here with my best friend, actually." I tried to be as vague as possible and then switched the subject when I spotted the Empire State Building out the window again. "I just love this view. I can't wait to go explore that building."

I pointed to the city icon with a smile and Jesse sauntered over to stand beside me while Erica sat back down at her desk. He was close enough that I could smell his cologne, and it was intoxicating. I'd never felt the bizarre urge to just grab a man by his shirt collar and smell him, but it was almost hard to refrain from doing that to Jesse.

We made awkward eye contact and I gave an equally awkward smile and quickly shifted my gaze back to the buildings. What was I supposed to say to him? I'd expected a second formal interview with the C.E.O. Not gazing at the city in silence together and mentally drooling over how good he smelled.

Suddenly, the phone rang, piercing the uncomfortable silence and startling me. Erica held up a finger to us and answered it.

"Jesse, I've got to take this on a conference," she told him. "Would you mind-"

"Not at all," he said and gestured for me to follow him out of the room. "Miss Hamilton, if you'll come with me, we'll finish up in my office."

Finish up in my office. Oh, the dirty things that came to mind.

"I see on your resume that you graduated from the University of Texas," he mentioned while we walked down the hall. "That's a great school. Our receptionist, Nancy, also graduated from there."

"Oh, that's awesome. I already have a friend here!" I tried to joke, hoping that he didn't remember me telling him about U.T. on the plane.

Jesse lead me to an office that was about the same size as Erica's, but he clearly had a different style. His furniture was all a rustic cherry color and his desk had papers scattered all over it, unlike Erica's perfectly neat arrangement. His office also had a stunning city view, and I was pretty sure I could see a glimpse of One World Trade off in the distance.

Like Erica's office, Jesse's also had several photos framed, most of which were on the shelves opposite his desk. The entire wall housed bookcases, which were each overflowing with books and little trinkets on display. My inner neat freak was going into obsessive compulsive mode wanting to organize everything.

"You have a really nice office," I told him, taking a seat across from him. "I love the color of the furniture."

"Thank you."

I met his eyes as he gave a soft smile, and it seemed like we both became frozen for a moment, just lost in holding each other's gaze. I knew he knew it was me – I'm the girl from the plane he kissed on New Year's Eve three years ago – but no matter how badly I wanted to laugh with him about how wild fate was to bring us back together, I couldn't do that. I couldn't admit to being the girl from the plane.

Shortly after going back home to Minneapolis, I'd had to figure out how I was going to retrieve my belongings from the apartment that was now entirely Brad's. I'd given Haley a key when I'd lived there, so our first idea was for her to go collect my things and move them to her place while Brad was at work. Go figure, the bastard had changed the locks. So I'd swallowed my pride and called him up the next day. I'd tried to be formal and treat the situation like a business dealing with no emotions. I'd explained to him that I needed to gather my stuff and that would be that. He'd agreed, though sounding angry about it, and told me Haley was welcome to get everything for me the next day. But I'd been foolish to believe that he would just let everything go that easily.

When Haley stopped by, she was met with the cruel sight of all my belongings destroyed. My books were shredded. My clothing was all ripped up. My photo albums had been burned and any little breakable trinket I had had been smashed into tiny pieces. And that was just the beginning.

Brokenhearted and insulted on top of my emotional injuries, I'd tried to salvage what little bits and pieces I could of the items Haley had boxed up for me. I threw out everything I couldn't save and then I did my best to sever any and all ties I had to Brad. I deleted every social media post that included him. I kicked mutual friends to the curb. I burned all his high school love letters in the fireplace and blocked every number that was associated with him. I'd thought that was the end – that that was what I had to do to get closure – but boy, had I been wrong.

Not even two weeks into staying in Minneapolis, I'd started receiving calls from Brad wanting me back. When I didn't answer, he'd filled up my voicemail box with tons of 'I'm sorry's' and 'please forgive me's'. I'd delete them, wouldn't respond, and block the number, and he'd just find a new number to harass me from. And that's what it turned into: harassment. And as time marched on, it became less and less about forgiveness and taking him back, and more about revenge and how much he hated me for thinking I could up and leave him the way I had. It became violent. It became stalking. It turned into Brad tracking me down and following me around the city, camping out outside my parents' house at odd hours of the night, and bumping into me at grocery stores and gas stations. Texts that had once been so sweet and apologetic had morphed into death threats and other despicable verbiage. He'd even started harassing Haley and having his creepy friends follow her around Dallas – part of the reason she'd decided to move up to Saint Paul.

I went through nearly two years of Brad's vulgarity and stalking, all the while begging the police to do something, anything about it. I had all the proof in the world that he was the one harassing me, and I'd tried so hard to get a restraining order, but it hadn't mattered what I did. In the end, Brad's father's money and ties to powerful people around the country had kept him from being charged with any crimes, kept me from being able to get a restraining order, and above all, kept me from finding closure.

I'd spent the entire last year constantly looking over my shoulder everywhere I went. He'd finally stopped about a year ago, but I still didn't feel safe or over the trauma in any way. I still expected Brad to pop up any minute and start it all up again.

So you see, having gone through absolute hell for two years with the man I'd once intended to marry and thought the world of had altered my opinion on dating. It had fucked up my view of men in a romantic sense entirely, come to think of it.

Since my experience with Brad had been a literal nightmare, and Brad was the only man I'd ever been romantically involved with, I didn't have anything else to go on. I didn't know how to weed out the bad ones to get to the good ones. I knew there were plenty of good, sincere men in the world, but I wasn't willing to put myself out there again to try to find them. I'd come to believe that if I were to give dating another try, and if I did find a man who seemed like Prince Charming, my castle would still come crumbling down in the end and the dragon would eat me. There was no way for me to tell if the next guy would turn out like Brad, so the solution was simple: there wouldn't be a next guy. And up until I'd come face to face with Jesse Reese again, I hadn't cared one iota how stupid that reasoning sounded.

"Do you mind if I call you Vanessa?" Jesse's voice ripped my focus back to reality.

I shook my head, swallowing again, my throat feeling dry and scratchy. "Not at all."

I was surprised when he walked around his desk and sat down in the chair beside me instead of interviewing me from his fancy C.E.O. chair like I'd expected.

"You can call me Jesse, if you'd like," he offered with a kind smile and crossed his ankles while he flipped through a couple papers in his hands.

His close proximity brought with it the wonderful scent of his cologne again. I was doing my best to ignore it while I waited in silence for him to say something else.

I glanced around his office again, searching for an object that could be a conversation starter, but the only thing I could think of to talk to him about was how, for some strange reason, I was proud of him for developing his own company like he'd told me on the plane he wanted to do someday. I wanted to ask him how his family's restaurant business was going. I felt an overwhelming pull to pick up on a conversation from three years ago like it had just happened yesterday.

"How long have you been C.E.O.?" I settled for a simple, generic question.

Jesse's eyes left the page and he smiled at me, not just with his lips, but with his sparkling blue eyes.

Oh, no. He's one of those gifted men who can smile with their eyes. I'm going to need some serious battle armor to fight off this level of swoon.

"Not too long," he said in a softer, more relaxed voice – one I could easily fall asleep to. "We just developed this company recently, but we've had a good amount of success so far. Eventually, I'd love to expand to other major cities – Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington, D.C. There's so many opportunities out there for a business like ours, but to be honest with you, being in New York City, the belly of the beast, there's a lot of competition and it makes doing business very difficult. We have to constantly change our approach and up our game. We've taken some serious losses over the last few months – lost clients I'd love to win back – and Erica and I need an assistant who understands just how tough and frustrating this job can be. Sure, there are plenty of perks and good times, but we can't provide those perks and good times without making a good enough profit first. I'm sure you understand that, Vanessa."

Something stirred in my chest at the sound of my name on his lips, but I did my best to brush it off and instead, I focused on how his demeanor had shifted as he spoke. He'd gone from looking proud and excited about developing Advantage Republic to taking a gloomier turn and stressing how hard his job was – and presumably how hard mine would be.

I could see in his eyes that it really ate at him to say they'd lost some clients. I wanted with all my heart to proclaim to him that I was the perfect person for the job and then proceed to win back his former clients for him, but hearing him talk about it was actually making me doubt my ability to keep up with the job. I couldn't let myself think that way, though. I needed this job, for Haley and for myself. And who knew? Maybe I'd end up being damn good at it.

"Do you have any hesitations about my qualifications?" I boldly asked and waited for him to tell me I didn't have enough experience.

Jesse smirked – God, that was sexy – and adjusted his position in the chair to slouch a little more. He ran a hand through his wavy hair the same way he had on the plane, and I noticed he still didn't wear a wedding ring.

"If you're referring to your lack of experience in an executive position, I'm fully aware of that," he said matter-of-factly, though humor danced in his eyes. "But I'm old fashioned and I tend to believe that one cannot gain the experience they need if they are not given the opportunity to do the job."

My pulse ticked a little quicker at his words. "What are you saying?"

He smiled again and handed me the employment paperwork to sign. "I'm saying you're hired, Vanessa. And I expect you here bright and early tomorrow."