All so I can prove... what exactly? That I’m not an asshole? That I can make ethical decisions when it matters?
Christ.
I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Least of allher.
This is bullshit.
What the hell am I doing?
I sit back down and finish my cold espresso in one bitter swallow.
My phone buzzes. A text from Thorne.
Marisol just pulled up.
Right. Marisol.
The actual reason I’m supposed to be here.
I pocket my phone and pull up the contracts again. Force my brain back into business mode.
But all I can think about is the way Amara’s hand felt in mine. The clinical detachment in her voice when she agreed last night was a mistake. The fact that I just bought six weeks of timewith her and somehow made sure we’d spend all of it pretending we’re strangers.
5
Amara
The second I’m through the door of my villa I collapse onto the overstuffed couch and stare at the ceiling fan circling above me.
So.
I accepted a six week contract to work alongside the man I had spectacular sex with last night. The same man I walked away from five years ago.
It’ll work out.
Totally work out.
Nothing screaming malpractice or ethical violations here.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out expecting some kind of formal contract addendum from Corin’s legal team.
Instead it’s Jess. Gotta love International roaming plans.
Happy New Year!!!!!
How’s the island????
Did you actually relax or are you reading legal briefs on the beach??
Also Marco says hi and wants to know if you met anyone cute. K K that’s it.
I stare at that last message.Oh you have no idea.
I should lie. Tell her it’s quiet and boring and I’m spending quality time with my legal pad.
That would be the smart play.
Instead I type:I’m fine but I kind of maybe sort of slept with someone.
