But what if I couldn't? What if there wasn't enough time?
What if my feelings were clouding my judgment and Silvio was right—what if I was compromised?
I drove home, mind spinning.
Thought about Quentin's kiss. About Silvio's pressure. About the evidence that kept pointing away from Quentin and toward... someone else.
Someone in my family.
Please don't let it be true. Please let there be another explanation.
But the evidence didn't lie.
And tomorrow, I'd have to face Quentin. Pretend everything was fine. Pretend I wasn't falling for him. Pretend I wasn't starting to suspect the truth was far worse than anyone imagined.
∞∞∞
I arrived at Vitality Ventures at 7:45 a.m.
Fifteen minutes early. Professional. Eager.
Definitely not because I've been awake since 5 a.m, rehearsing what to say to the man I made out with on his couch last night.
My hands shook as I parked. I gripped the steering wheel, took three deep breaths.
You can do this. You're a professional. This is just work. Just another day at the office.
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. Navy suit. Hair pulled back. Minimal makeup. Professional armor.
Okay. Let's do this.
The elevator ride felt like an eternity. The receptionist wasn't in yet—too early. The office was quiet.
Quentin's door was open.
He was already there, sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen. Looked like he hadn't slept well either.
I knocked softly on the doorframe.
He glanced up.
Our eyes met.
And just like that, my brain quit working.
"Hi," I managed.
"Hi." He stood. "You're early."
"So are you."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Same."
We stood there, twenty feet apart, the weight of last night between us.
"Julia—"
