"Keep your voice down," I hiss.
"It's been almost a month, Don. If you wanted to find her that badly, you could have—"
"Could have what? Hired a private investigator? Stalked every hotel in Miami?" I shrug. “Doesn't matter. She's gone. I'm here. End of story."
Before I can argue, Thane appears, blue eyes scanning the room, bourbon in hand.
“Hey, look alive, you two. The new hires are here," he says, nodding toward the entrance, swiping a handthrough his silvered-brown locks. "Carmen's bringing them around to meet the executives."
I make appropriate comments about looking forward to meeting them, even though the last thing I want to do right now is make small talk with nervous new employees.
But then I see her.
And I swear my soul leaves my body.
Across the room, standing next to Carmen Rodriguez, our Director of Strategic Development, is Em.
My Em.
She's wearing a navy dress that fits her lithe, curvy form.
It’s prim. Professional.
And somehow more devastating than the tank top and shortsfrom Miami.
Her silky dark hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she's listening intently to whatever Carmen's saying.
Nodding and asking questions with the same easy intelligence I remember.
She smiles at the director. With no clue what the hell is about to happen.
"Don?" Logan nudges me. “Yo! Did we lose you or what? You look—"
"I know her," I say quietly.
"You know who?"
“Who is that?” I nod to the brunette whose body I know only too well.
Thane squints, looking over. “I—Carmen mentioned her name, I think. Emily. Or Amber.”
“Fuck,” I swear, pulse practically pounding in my throat. “I’m guessing that’s the new manager of Strategy. Emma Sinclair.” I take another gulp of mychampagne, and the swallow goes down like razor blades. "She's Miami girl."
Logan coughs—sputters. “Wait—are you bullshitting me right now?”
"I wish I was."
"Your one-night stand?”
“Yup.”
“Holy fuck.” Logan's trying not to laugh and failing miserably. “And I mean that literally.”
"This isn't funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It's a a goddamn disaster. Why the hell didn’t Margaret—“
