The elevator chimes as the doors slide open on the fourteenth floor of the Killaney Trust building. My heels click against the polished marble as I step out, the sound echoing down the hallway lined with frosted glass offices.
It's been two months since I woke up in a hospital bed and learned what it meant to have a family.
My shoulder twinges as I adjust my bag, a phantom psychological pain the doctors said I'll probably have for some time. Not if Lyra has anything to do about it. She's making me do physical therapy. Three times a week of endless exercises with resistance bands and random movements.
The floor buzzes with the controlled chaos of a Monday morning. Assistants hurry past with stacks of folders, phones ring, and somewhere down the hall, I hear Keira's voice.
I pass a secretary who nods politely. She knows who I am now, as do most on this floor.
Callum's been here more in the past few weeks than in the months before, working alongside Keira to rebuild what Shadowharbor tore down. Permits. Licenses. Political connections that need mending. Without Cormac around now to sabotage everything, they've finally started to make some progress.
I turn down the hall and head toward Callum's office, which is behind heavy oak doors with fancy brass fixtures.
I don't knock. I never knock anymore.
He's on the phone when I pop my head in, his back to me as he stares out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Boston. The city sprawls beneath him as he stands there in his tailored black suit like he owns every inch of it. Which, in a lot of ways, he does.
"I don't care what the zoning board says," he's saying, his tone firm and authoritative. "We had those permits locked down way before Shadowharbor pulled their little stunt. And need I remind you, they aren't what they used to be.”
He pauses, listening. I close the door behind me and turn the lock. He hears it and turns around, a small smile breaking through his stern face.
"Handle it," Callum says. "I don't pay you to bring me problems. I pay you to solve them. I've got to go." He hangs up.
"Zaria," he says, and my name in his mouth still does something to me, warming something low in my belly. "I wasn't expecting you until later."
"I got bored," I say, crossing the room toward his massive desk. I look down at all the papers scattered across the surface. "And you've been working too hard."
He leans back against the window, arms crossed over his chest, watching me. "Someone has to run the city."
"Mmm." I stop in front of the desk, my fingers trailing over the edge of a stack of documents. "Well, you look like you could use a little distraction."
His eyes darken, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "Is that so?"
I don't answer. Instead, I sweep my arm across the desk, sending some papers scattering to the floor.
Callum's eyes darken.
"Oops, I'll pick it up," I say, and turn around and bend over, my skirt riding up.
He's behind me before I can take another breath. I stand, grinding against him.
I turn around and look up at him. "Here you go," I say, and lay the papers on the desk.
He wraps his hands around me, his hand fisting in my hair as he pulls me against him. His mouth crashes into mine, not gentle, but claiming.
I moan against his lips, and his tongue sweeps into mine.
He spins me around, bending me over the desk. The wood is cool against my palms.
"Quiet," he says, his breath hot against my ear, as he hikes my skirt up. "There are people working out there."
His fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear and drag them down my thighs in one rough motion.
I gasp.
"Then you'd better make sure I stay quiet."
Behind me, I hear the clink of his belt buckle, the sound of his zipper.
