My heart betrayed me every time he walked into a room.Every time his eyes darkened when he saw me talking to someone else.Every time his mouth twitched into that dangerous half-smile.
But I wasn’t giving in.Not this time.
I rubbed the back of my neck, tension coiling beneath my skin.But it wasn’t just Creed that had me off balance.
The weight of the money—the account—pressed on my chest like a steel beam.
Days had passed with no anonymous calls, no shadowy figures trailing me.
But the silence didn’t reassure me.It made it worse.
Someone was waiting.
I shook off the thought when Celine’s voice pulled me from my spiral.
“Peyton?”
I blinked and turned toward her.She was standing at my desk, holding a tablet, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the edge.
“Sorry,” I murmured, sitting straighter.“Did you say something?”
Celine perched on the edge of the desk, her brows lifting.“You okay?”
“Fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it slide.“The accountant called again.We need to get W-2s out before the end of the month.”
I drew a weary sigh.“Yes, I forgot about that.”
“I don’t mind handling it for you.The computer is still at the agency, right?”I nodded.“Then I can go over there first thing in the morning.All I need is the login information, and I can take care of it for you.”
“Yes, of course.What would I do without you?”
“I hope you never find out,” Celine said with a grin.
“I’ll text you the login information,” I told her.
She nodded and seemed pleased that she could help me.“I was also going over your schedule for the week.”
I reached for my coffee, needing the caffeine more than ever.“Anything important I’m not aware of?”
“You have the donor’s gala at the Mayson Art Gallery Friday night.Formal event.”
I stilled.
Shit.
The gala.The one I was supposed to attend with Creed.
My chest tightened painfully, my knuckles whitening around the mug.
“Are you still planning to attend?”
Creed’s face flashed in my mind—his hand resting at my lower back, his mouth brushing against my ear as he murmured something inappropriate.The way he’d pulled me into a dark corner after too much champagne and kissed me like he owned me.
Heat crawled beneath my skin.I hated that I was still affected by the feel of his hands, the taste of his mouth.
“Peyton?”Celine prompted.
