That used to bemyline when we were younger. I can’t believe she remembers.
I smile, shut my laptop, and start gathering my things. “What about you? Do you always stay this late?”
“Sometimes. I was just wrapping up the day.”
“Do you wanna… grab something to eat?” My voice wavers. Because yeah—I’m nervous as hell.
Emma checks her watch. It’s old and worn, and for a second, I wonder if there’s a story behind it. She used to ask about the story behind every object. “I don’t think anything’s open at this hour. It’s almost nine-thirty.”
“This is Miami, Em. Everything’s open.”
I nearly reach for her hand. Instead, I gesture toward the elevator. As I walk down the hall, I hear her footsteps behind me. I probably look calm on the outside. Inside, I’m grinning like a maniac.
Alone time with Emma Green is still something my body craves.
I don’t take her somewhere fancy—she never liked the polished, upscale places my family dragged us to. I remember that clearly. So, I pick a little restaurant on Collins, I usually hit when I’ve worked too late. Or when I’m pretending dinner with the love of my life isn’t a date.
The place is calledSentimiento Latino—loud, chaotic, packed with colors and textures. The walls are covered in mismatched paintings, gold frames, clashing styles, and even the ceiling’s a mess of art. The chairs don’t match. Nothing makes sense, and that’s exactly what I love about it.
Emma lights up as soon as we walk in, weaving between tables, searching for the best spot. “Where do you wanna sit?” she asks over her shoulder.
I point to the farthest table in the back. I like privacy, especially with her.
The waitress brings us menus. Emma asks for water. I ask for wine.
Because Ineedit.
“I’ve been researching Troy Lozano,” she says, eyes still on the menu.
That name freezes me mid-sip. I hate hearing it come from her mouth. “And?” I cough, trying to sound unaffected.
Emma sets her menu down and folds her arms across the table. “Well, for starters—he’s younger than you.”Thanks, Em. “He’s super active on social media, shares his life all over the place, invests heavily in ads, and he’s got the whole family-man image.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“Well… in the polls, you have a bad public image, Luca. That’s why you’re second in the market.”
“Bad image? I’m a freaking saint.” I don’t mean to make her laugh. But I do.
“Pfft. Wanna see what Google says when I search your name?” she teases, pulling out her phone.
Photos of me at events, always with some stunning woman on my arm. A few at parties, looking… yeah, not my best.
I glance at her, mildly embarrassed, but hide it behind my usual deadpan stare. “People shouldn’t care about my image as long as I do my job well.”
“In a parallel universe? Sure. In this one? You need a stronger public presence,Luke.”
Luke.
She hasn’t called me that since we were kids.
I lean forward, not to intimidate—just to be closer.
Troy Lozano’s the one behind most real estate development in Miami. He’s my direct competitor, the one I want to crush. “Let’s say I believe you. What should I do to fix my image?”
Emma notices how close we’ve gotten, but she doesn’t pull away. “We’re on the right track—the promo video will help. But if you don’t have a family, you should at least have a pet.”
“Both are impossible.”
