“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I reply, feigning innocence.
Oliver lives in Texas now and has a ranch with actual animals. The kind that roam around freely, which, for a New Yorker like me, was unthinkable. He says he likes the lifestyle—the silence, the space, the Texan way of life. But to me, it feels like another world entirely.
Oliver rolls his eyes at me. “Where’d you find her?”
“I never lost her.”
“She just happened to be one of the candidates to replace Stella?” Luca chimes in, clearly skeptical.
“Pure coincidence,” I say, shrugging like it is no big deal. “Ask Stella if you don’t believe me?—”
Oliver cuts in. “Luca, wasn't she Emma’s …”
Luca shoots him a death glare. “Unfortunately,” Luca growled. Luca never talks about what happened with Emma.Never.
“And now she lives in Miami,” I add as casually as I could, but I know the effect it would have. Luca freezes for a second, clearly caught off guard.
“Emma’s living in Miami?” he repeats, trying to process the news.
“That’s what I said. Want me to ask Lauren for her number?”
Luca shakes his head quickly. “No, let’s just … focus on this meeting.”
“Gladly,” I reply, getting up and heading for the door, thankful we can move on from the Lauren topic before it spirals into somethingworse. My brothers know better than to dig too deeply into my personal life. I like to keep things sealed tight.
As I walk past Bunny’s office, I peek in. “Ready?” I ask.
She immediately stands up, gathers her tablet and a few papers, then falls into step beside me like the flawless assistant she is. For some reason, I feel calmer now. Maybe it is the tea. Or maybe it is her presence. I’m not ready to admit that out loud just yet.
My brothers stroll through the office and most of the employees greet them like Hollywood stars had just walked in. It is always the same when we have these meetings. A day of checking in, running through numbers, and making sure none of us are screwing up the empire. This time it is in New York, but we rotate between all the offices, each Walker getting their turn to host. It is an unspoken rule: visit each headquarters, ensure things are running smoothly and, more importantly, make sure the Walker in charge isn’t slacking off—or doing something idiotic, like hiring the one woman who can stir up all kinds of strange, old feelings.
The day is packed—six straight hours of meetings, numbers, and high-stakes discussions, broken up only by the occasional bite from the best catering Manhattan has to offer. By the time the office is empty, my brothers and I are still locked in the conference room, sleeves rolled up, ties loosened, everyone looking just as worn out as the spreadsheets we’d been tearing apart all day. Well, almost everyone. Lauren, still seated at the far end of the table, is typing notes with the same sharp focus she’d had when we started. Not an ounce of her energy has faded. She keeps adjusting her glasses, and for some reason, I find myself captivated by the small, subtle movements of her hands. The way she pushed those glasses up the bridge of her nose—it is ridiculous that at thirty-one, I find something like that attractive.
Luca clears his throat, trying to drag my attention back to the meeting. I catch his exasperated look and quickly shift my focus. Killian is talking about new ideas, ways we can streamline processes across the offices. I chime in, talking about Compass and the little progress we’ve made so far—definitely not as much as I’d hoped. But before I can finish, I feel a hand on my arm.
It is Lauren.
The room goes silent for a second, my heart skipping a beat as her touch sends an unexpected wave of calm through me. I glance down at her hand, then back up at her face. It is like she is grounding me, pulling me back from wherever my mind had wandered.
Then whispers, “Your father is calling,” as she hands me the phone, her eyes full of unease. I should’ve taken the call right away, but something about being near her in that moment feels warmer, more real, than anything my father’s voice can offer. I glance at my brothers. All three are watching, their expressions expectant. They want me to answer. Of course, they do.
“The great Thomas Walker calls,” I say, straightening up as I take the phone from Lauren, our fingers brushing ever so slightly. It is the first time in years I’ve felt her touch—soft, warm, and weirdly familiar. I swipe to answer. “Let me put you on the big screen, Dad,” I say, tapping a few buttons. A moment later, my father’s face appears on the massive ninety-inch screen. If this is a movie, he’d be the villain—and in real life, it isn’t that different. As his face comes into focus, I notice Lauren shrinking back in her chair, her discomfort almost palpable.
We’re in this together, darling, I think.
“The Walker legacy,” he begins, his voice carrying that same weight it always has. He is a mirror of me, just twenty years older. Blue eyes, white hair that once matched my own dark brown—there is no denying the resemblance, even if I hate to admit it. My mother always said we were alike.
I hate being compared to someone I do not admire.
My younger brothers are more like our mother—dark hair, pale green eyes that capture everything without saying a word. Luca, of course, is the perfect blend of both parents. But the one thing we all share from our father is height and build—broad-shouldered, muscular, towering over most people. Well, except Luca. He stands a ridiculous six foot ten. Even in height, we compete.
My brothers greet him with half-hearted mumbles, just like always. We all know why he is calling. Our father’s eternal concern is makingsure none of us screw up the company he’d bled to build. Understandable? Sure. Annoying? Definitely.
His eyes linger on Lauren, just a bit too long. I can see that look, the wheels turning in his mind as he tries to place her. I have to cut this short. “Dad, this is Lauren, my E.A,” I say, keeping my tone low, hoping he’ll move on without making things awkward.
“Lauren! Welcome to Property Group NYC!” he says with a burst of enthusiasm that catches all of us off guard. My brothers raise their eyebrows in sync, visibly offended. He never greetsuswith that kind of warmth.
“Thank you, Mr. Walker. It’s a pleasure to be here,” Lauren replies, ever the professional. Her smile is bright, and she tucks a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, adjusting those damn glasses again.
