“No, no—see, if you garnish the champagne with basil and mint, it just screams ‘I make questionable decisions in Europe.’ You want subtle rich. Notcoked-out yacht boyrich.”
Laughter followed him like a halo. He was like gravity; everyone was inexplicably drawn to him. His presence gave them life like they had been slowly dying inside until he brought them back.
He didn’t care about protocol. He made the guests laugh, which made the floor managers tense and Timothy foam at the mouth with rage. He bent the rules without breaking them. Just enough to stand out. Just enough to drive me insane.
Just enough to drive that nail of want deeper under my skin.
He passed by me in the hallway, balancing a tray of champagne flutes, eyes flicking over me with smug intent. “Nice tie, boss. Is that ‘daddy’s disappointment’ blue?”
I stiffened. “It’s navy.”
“Oh,” he said, mock-innocent. “Tragic lighting.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t afford to. If I gave him an inch, he’d burn the whole house down and leave me trapped inside it.
He winked as he passed me, like he’d won something. And maybe he had. Because beneath all the polish and inherited authority—I wanted him.Still. A week later, and I couldn’t scrub him out of my mind.
The quarterly numbersbled together on the page, a sea of percentages and projections that refused to make sense no matter how hard I squinted. My eyes burned. My patience wore thin. With a frustrated breath, I shoved back from my desk and crossed the room in long, tense strides.
I stopped at the window—floor-to-ceiling glass that framed the eighteenth green like a painting hung in a museum. Outside, the landscape was surgical in its precision. Every blade of grass clipped to uniformity, every flower bed curated for maximum aesthetic impact. But even so, it was beautiful.
The trees lining the fairway swayed gently in the early afternoon breeze, their leaves flickering like coins—sunlight catching on the edges, flashing from emerald to jade and back again. Beyond the pristine sand traps and the velvet stretch of green, the sky was impossibly blue and cloudless.
I pressed a palm to the cool glass, letting my eyes unfocus. I could almost feel it—the wind brushing against my skin, the sun warming the back of my neck. I pictured walking barefoot across the green, the grass damp and soft beneath my feet, grounding me in something real, something untouched by expectations and legacy and quarterly profit margins.
But the glass between us was thick. And I wasn’t allowed to run barefoot. Not here. Not even as a child. Never.
Lost in thought, it took me a few minutes to realize a beautiful reflection had become the focal point of my view. Sinclair leaned in the doorway of my office like he lived there. Asmirk curled his full lips, dark eyes glinting, hands hidden in his pockets.
“You’re really leaning into the whole ‘rich people mausoleum’ aesthetic,” he chuckled. “Just needs a sarcophagus and maybe some tragic poetry etched in gold.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
He strolled in, easy and slow, like the space obeyed him. “Thought you should know table sixteen sent their compliments. Said the server was charming andexceptionally attractive.” His smirk widened. “Guess who that was?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Oh, Iliveto be helpful.”
I turned back toward the window, trying not to let my eyes flick downward to his mouth. “Do you enjoy being difficult?”
“I enjoy beingme.But apparently, that’s the same thing around here.” He crossed the room until his hands rested on my desk. “You look tired. You should get laid.”
I froze. Spine rigid, shoulders hunched up by my ears.
He grinned. “What? I’m just being helpful again.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“Pushingwhat, Theo?” His voice dropped into something silky. Dangerous. It wrapped around me and tugged me toward him. “Your buttons? Your patience? Or is that something else I’m feeling every time I walk past you?”
“This isn’t a game.” I ground my teeth and clenched my fists.
“No,” he whispered, “but I bet you’d bereallyfun to play with.”
Silence stretched between us and intensified. Tight as a wire pulled taut between two cliffs.
I turned to face him head-on, stepped closer, eyes locked on his. “You think you’re clever.”
