Right. So that’s it then?
“All good?” he asks, eyes daring me to defy him.
“Mhm,” I grit out.
“Great!” He snaps the portfolio shut like he’s won something. “I’m counting on you, Rhodes. You’re the man.”
Rage simmers inside me as I step out. This is more than a deal. It’s the fight of my life. If Jackson costs me partner—I won’t just put him in his place.
I’ll bury him there.
My office is a mix of dark wood, iron fixtures, a chess board in the corner—more war room than workspace. I make it three steps in before his shadow cuts across the doorway.
The devil himself has reappeared.Why can’t I fucking escape this guy today?
“Teamie,” Jackson says, grinning.
I say nothing.
He walks in, casually, and obnoxious, his gaze landing on a photo of Chloe on the table behind me.
He picks it up. Stares too long. His thumb brushes the glass.
“I’ll take this now,” he says. Like it was his to begin with.
My pulse spikes. I think I’ll go ahead and punch him now. Besides, Tammy isn’t here to stop me.
But before I can move, he’s gone. The door clicks shut. And I’mstanding here, breath caught in my throat, staring at the empty space. Like a coward.
I don’t care about the picture. Not really. But he didn’t ask. He justtook.
Like he did Chloe.
What’s next—my job?
“You win? You rise. You fail? You vanish.”
Pressure flares white-hot under my ribs, covering the hollow ache Chloe left behind.
I won’t let it stand.
Except, by the time I look up, I’ve already made the decision:
He can have the picture.
But he won’t take anything else.
CHAPTER 8
GARLIC KNOTS AND RED FLAGS
RORIE
Giovanni’s is packed
The lunch rush roars around us, a full-blown symphony of clinking plates, shouting servers, and sizzling garlic-scented mayhem.
I’m wedged in a corner booth with Maya and Jeremy where the vinyl is cracked and patched, and the table is sticky despite the waitress’s best efforts. I’m picking at a basket of garlic knots that are definitely going to kill my breath. Risky, considering I have a pitch this afternoon. But worth it.
