"Handle it."
After he left, I checked the time. Almost nine. Isla would be arriving soon. I'd ordered her to be in early to prepare for the Tokyo investors' call.
A soft knock on my door.
"Come in."
Isla entered, impeccably dressed in a charcoal pencil skirt and cream blouse, hair pulled back in a tight bun. Professional. Controlled. No hint of the woman who'd come apart in my arms less than forty-eight hours ago.
"Good morning, Mr. Barone." Her voice was cool, distant.
"Cassian," I corrected. "I thought we'd moved past formalities."
"That was a mistake." She placed a small metallic key on my desk. "This is yours."
I stared at the key to my penthouse. She was returning it.
"Keep it."
"No."
"Then why are your hands shaking?" I pressed it back into her palm, closing her fingers around it. "Keep it. Because, despite what you're telling yourself, you will use it."
She rolled her eyes and placed a folder on my desk. "The Tokyo briefing. I've highlighted the key points."
"Sit." I gestured to the chair across from me.
She perched on the edge of the chair like she might bolt.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I've been doing my job."
I studied the shadows under her eyes."You didn't return my calls this weekend."
"It was my weekend off. Unless there was a work emergency, I'm not obligated to."
"There could have been an emergency."
"Was there?"
No. I called her because I couldn't stop thinking about her. Because I'd woken up Saturday morning to empty sheets and her absence had felt like a physical ache.
"No," I admitted. "But that's not the point."
"Then what is the point, Mr. Barone?"
"The point is you're running again. Just like Saturday morning. Just like you tried to return my key."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm not running. I'm being smart."
"Smart would be admitting what's between us."
"What's between us is a professional relationship. That's all it can be."
"Is that what this is about? Professional boundaries?" I leaned forward. "A bit late for that.”
"What happened between us was a mistake."
