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He stands by the conference room but won’t open it, just gestures to the window to the left of the door. He only crosses his arms that way when he’s about to ream us for something. I can’t imagine what I’ve done. He double smooths his vest. That can’t be good.

HAYDEN

I spent the morning working on the mock-up of our killer concept. Matching the old to the new. I painted all night. It got that woman out of my head. Honestly, the thing that pissed me off the most was the idea of her making Italian food. I know she fucked it up. I could’ve helped if she’d asked.

I stretch out on the carpet and let the lull of our detente roll over me. I’m a touch hollow, though. I’ve felt the lack of Bette over the past week. Might have to fire up an intern competition. I breathe in and out. Then my peace is broken by four things simultaneously and I sit straight up.

Monica bolts into my office.

Dax follow Monica.

My cellphone rings.

My office phone rings.

Monica and Dax talk over each other.

“What the hell did you do?” she squawks.

“Don’t answer that.” Dax warns as he attempts to show me something on his phone.

I jump up and grab my cell. I glance down and my cock stirs when I see it’s my little Chicago Harpy.

Dax gets insistent, “DON’T answer any of those!”

Monica is huffing, and I answer my phone, blowing off his warning and waving him off.

“Well—”

I’m interrupted, and not by her warm, sexy voice. “You. I loathe you. You fucking lying piece of shit. I fell for it. I truly thought we were at a place where I could at least trust the alliance, if not you. And you’re shit. I’m so disappointed in you. I’m pissed at myself for trusting you. You played me. You destroyed my team’s confidence in me. Among a thousand other things. I’m fucking stunned by your charming deception. You really want to destroy my career. You lied.”

“Slow down. I’ve never lied to you.” And that’s pretty shocking for me with women.

“Truce over. You can hang yourself with your project for all I care. Don’t speak to me. Go through my assistant. I don’t want to hear you or from you. You’re an unscrupulous piece of garbage.”

It’s like I stepped off a plane in Iceland without a coat. I have chills running everywhere and my stomach turns. She hates me for real. Like, not just competition ribbing hate, but soul crushingly despises me, and I don’t know why. I don’t understand anything coming out her mouth. I’ve never heard her this truthfully angry. Dax shoves his phone in my face and I see the bill of sale. Then he pulls up a text that reads: Done.

My head falls to my chest as I sit on the edge of my desk. She’s still yelling at me—the words are running together as my brain focuses on my colossal fuck-up. Monica is scowling. I cover my phone to whisper to Dax.

“Fix it. I’ll pay anything. Get a crew there NOW.” He nods and disappears to take care of it.

She slows down and I interrupt her, “Bette. Please. Listen.”

“Nope.” And she hangs up. My posture slumps as Monica glares at me.

“Mon, I forgot. I swear.”

“You forgot what? Business ethics? Humanity?”

“I thought the BeANanny.com was the last thing going. Shit. I custom-ordered 15,000 ping pong balls months ago. We prepaid a dude to break in, dump them, and crawl out through the ceiling tiles. It’s an impressive and expensive prank.” I try to get her to see this was an act of genius. She scowls at me. “I get it. But it’s ping pong balls. Seriously, it was six months ago. I was totally down with the truce. I swear on my honor.”

“Swear on something else.” She pops a hip.

“I swear on your honor. Dax and I forgot.”

“Don’t put the blame anywhere but squarely on your shoulders. He may go along with your asshole behavior, but he’s not the asshole.” I rush over, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she bristles.

“I promise, I forgot but it’s just ping pong balls. I did it to annoy her, but it’s different now.” I’m uncomfortable in my skin. It’s like it’s too small for my body.