If you need to talk.
Yeah. Let me just confess that I’ve fucked your sister. Twice. Once in her apartment. Once in my studio. That I want her so badly it’s physically painful. That I think about her when I should be thinking about my daughter or my restaurants or literally anything else.
That would go over well.
“Thanks,” I say instead. “Appreciate it.”
Jag drops Ethan at the subway. Then it’s just us heading back to FHG headquarters.
My phone buzzes. Text from Jess.
Ben forgot her library book. I’ll bring it at pickup.
I stare at the message. Completely innocent. Completely professional.
And all I can think about is her mouth on mine. Her hands in my hair. The way she said my name when she came.
I need to stop this. Need to recommit to the boundaries we set. Need to focus on what actually matters.
Ben. The restaurants. Not destroying the one good thing that’s happened since Isotta died.
Except Jessisthe good thing.
And that’s the problem.
I feel like I’m working a station during a rush with tickets backing up and the expo yelling. That moment where you know you’re about to get buried but can’t stop. Can’t slow down. Can only keep pushing and hope you make it through service without everything collapsing.
Except this isn’t service.
This is my life.
And the collapse isn’t theoretical.
If Ethan knew the truth, he’d kill me. Slowly. With his bare hands.
I pocket my phone and watch the city through the tinted window. Delivery trucks. Suited executives. Everyone moving with purpose while I’m stuck in this loop of wanting what I can’t have and lying to the people who trust me most.
The irony isn’t lost on me. I builtan empire on precision and control. And here I am, one step away from losing it all.
We pull into FHG parking. I need to review the Kells situation with Gianna, my COO. Need to check on the Family Meal logistics for the coming Monday. Need to do approximately nine thousand things that don’t involve thinking about Jess.
But first I sit in the Range Rover for three full minutes and just breathe.
In through the nose. Hold. Out through the mouth. Hold.
Jess’s technique. The one she taught Ben. The one I’ve been using in board calls and tense moments and every fucking time I’m about to lose my shit.
It works. Marginally.
I bid Jag farewell and get out. Head inside. Gianna’s waiting in my office with updates on the media containment. We talk strategy. I make decisions. I function like a competent human being.
But the whole time I’m thinking about tonight. About Jess being back in my house. Doing homework with Ben. Making dinner. Moving through my space like she belongs there.
Close enough to touch. Far enough to make me insane.
I recommit to the boundaries right there. In my head. Like making a promise to myself.
No repeats. No crossing lines. No more studio sessions that violate every rule we set.
