But the tiny flower shop card’s practically burning my hand.
Flicking my eyes at the camera, I shift in my seat so my face is out of frame. I slip the note out of the cream envelope.
For the part of you that isn’t all control.
-B.
I suck in a sharp breath.
“Tori — you still there?” The investor’s thin, reedy voice fills my ear.
“Yes, Steve. Still here.”
“Should we hedge with gold here — or stay put?”
Tearing my eyes from Bennett’s note, I double-check the markets.
“Hedge with gold. We’ll reassess next week.” I force certainty into my voice, try to recover my edge.
The part of you that isn’t all control.
In a few short weeks, Bennett’s threatened my self-control more than anyone else has in my entire life.
He’s also seen more of the real me than Preston did in two-plus years of dating.
The bad boy hockey player with a temper quicker than his release knows me better than my Wall Street ex ever did.
Knock, knock.
Another tap, this one much quieter. I’m rising out of my chair when the door squeaks open.
Panicked, I glance over my shoulder.
Bennett, in a navy blue T-shirt and gym shorts, straight from practice.
Knox must have let him in.
Perfect.
I lean over, ducking off-screen and pointing at my headset.
“On a call.” I mouth the words and he nods, shuffling over to my sofa and sinking down. Unbothered, like he has nothing but time.
He stretches out his long legs, leaning back against the cushion and manspreading. Like he belongs here in this space.
As if he’s not the absolute definition of messy chaos in my carefully curated life.
“Tori — what do you think about India?” Bill, one of the more senior investors, asks.
“India?” I repeat the word, scrambling for what I missed.
“Yes.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, stalling. “India in what context — growth allocation or a hedge? Because I’m comfortable adding, but I want to control entry and size. Liquidity and FX matter.”
“Growth sleeve. We’re thinking a small add. Do you want broad beta or a more targeted expression?” Bill pauses, waiting for me to come up with a plan.
Bennett’s distracting me. The clean scent of his cologne, undeniably masculine. His measured stare tracking me. And I swear I feel his body heat from here.
