Jonathan was twenty minutes late, and Catherine was not really that surprised.
She stared at the glass wall of her office, watching her assistant's reflection pace outside with a tablet clutched to her chest. Tina kept glancing at the clock, then at the door, then back at Catherine like she expected fireworks. She always got so nervous when anything that had to do wuth Jonathan came about, rightfully so considering the two of them argued half the time they were in the same room. It had been so long since the two had been in one room together. Alone.
Catherine didn't look up from her laptop.
"Cancel the rest of my afternoon," she said calmly.
Tina froze. "Why?"
Catherine lifted her eyes. "I have a meeting with someone who has no sense of time, I don't want clients bumping into each other, reschedule them.."
Before Tina could respond, the door opened.
Jonathan walked in like he owned the building.
Tall. Expensive suit. That familiar, irritating confidence that used to make her laugh and now made her jaw tighten. He looked around slowly, taking in the clean lines of her office, the neutral palette, the absence of anything personal.
"Well," he drawled, closing the door behind him, " what happened to that little plant that was on your desk?."
Catherine blinked once.
"Hello to you too," she said flatly.
He grinned, unbothered. "I told you that thing was a commitment issue waiting to happen."
She closed her laptop with deliberate calm. "You booked this meeting, my time, for an hour. You're already down 20 minutes. If you're here to critique my decorating choices and ability to take care of plants and lecture me about commitment, you of all people?, you can leave ."
Jonathan laughed softly, like she'd just said something amusing instead of dismissive. He dropped into the chair across from her without asking.
"Still sharp," he said.
"Still late," she replied. "Get to the point Jonathan."
His eyes flicked around again, lingering briefly on the framed certificates, the awards on the shelf, the nameplate on her desk.
Catherine Kate Bates.
Founder & Creative Director.
Chief executive officer.
Something unreadable crossed his face, but it was gone before she could place it.
"Your office is… tidy," he said instead. " you look good here."
Her patience thinned. "Jonathan."
He raised his hands. "Okay, okay. Straight to business."
" Yes business," she said coolly. " you should've sent someone else to come here."
" It's something I needed to do "
Silence stretched between them, thick with everything they weren't saying. Five years ago, this room would have been impossible. Too close. Too intimate. Too much history packed into one space. But she had learnt to move on. Now, she felt… detached. Or at least she told herself she did.
"So," she prompted. "Why are you here?"
Jonathan leaned back in his chair, studying her like he was deciding which version of her he was dealing with. The girl he'd married and hurt at twenty-five. Or the woman sitting across from him now, composed and closed off.
"I have a proposal," he said finally.
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "You're not here to ask me to be the one to redesign your penthouse, are you? Because I don't mix business with-"
"family?" he cut in lightly. "Ex-family?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't mix my business with you."
"Fair." He nodded. "But hear me out."
She gestured once. "You're hearing me lose interest by the second."
Jonathan chuckled, then sobered just slightly. "You know my reputation."
"I've experienced your reputation" she said. " it's hard to ignore when it's everywhere as well."
His smile tightened. "Right. That."
She crossed her arms. "If this is about damage control, you should talk to your PR team. They're very good at pretending nothing's wrong."
"They're good at putting out house fires," he agreed. "This one's a burning forest heading for the city."
"And you think I'm the solution ?" she asked incredulously.
He held her gaze. "I know you are."
Catherine scoffed. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here to ask me anything at all."
"I've been told."
"You're losing clients because you can't keep your private life private," she continued. "That's not my problem."
"No," he said quietly. "But the solution could be mutually beneficial."
There it was. The moment the conversation stopped being annoying and started being dangerous and caught Catherine's attention.
She leaned forward slightly. "Explain."
Jonathan exhaled. "People care more about who I'm sleeping with than the buildings I design and honestly i design good buildings. Investors are nervous. Clients want stability. They want the illusion that I've… grown up."
"And where does your lack of maturity concern me?" she asked.
He hesitated. Just a beat.
"Let's get married."
The words landed between them like a dropped glass.
Catherine stared at him.
Then she laughed.
It was short and sharp and entirely humorless.
"Either you're joking," she said slowly, "or you've finally gone insane."
Jonathan didn't smile.
That was when she knew he meant it.
Her laughter died instantly. "You cannot be serious."
"I am."
"I don't know what crawled out of your ass and convinced you this was a good idea, but I don't have time for your crap."
Jonathan rose too, matching her height easily. "Kate—"
"I told you to stop calling me that, Get out," she snapped.
" Just hear me out. Alright? "
"Go play your little mind games with people who will actually fall for it. I don't have time for this "
His jaw tightened, He knew this was a bad idea but arguing with her right now was not going to work in his favor, the best idea would be for her to think thus over.
For a second, she thought he might argue. Instead, he nodded once.
" Alright," he said calmly. "I'll go."
He paused at the door, turning back.
"But the offer stands."
She didn't respond.
" If we were to actually get married and people dig information about you or about us," he continued, " they'll find out we were college sweethearts. Married once ,divorced then found our way back to each other. It would be a good story. Good publicity."
Her stomach twisted despite herself. She didn't bother to look him in the eye. Simply waited for him to leave.
"It only works with you," he finished.
Then he left.
Catherine sat there at the place he'd been long after the door closed, her heart pounding harder than it had any right to.
Married to each other?.
Again.
She sank back into her chair, staring at the empty space across from her desk.
She hated him.
She hated that he still knew exactly how to unsettle her. How he knew the exact words to use to press her buttons.
And she hated most of all that a small, traitorous part of her mind had already started doing the math of how a deal like that would help her firm.