Abby I settle into the chair across from Damon at the intimate, candlelit table set up on the balcony. Despite the romantic ambience, I try to remind myself that this is just a business dinner; even though my skin still burns from where his lips brushed against my knuckles. Damon smiles inviting
When the plates are cleared and we linger over a cheese board, I realize with a jolt that we haven’t discussed the upcoming event at all yet. I straighten in my seat. “Damon, maybe we should talk specifics about next week’s gala?” I prompt. “I’d like to go over the guest list one more time, the se
Abby Damon’s cool fingers graze across my shoulder, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. I meet his gaze squarely and carefully step away. “Well?” he asks, staring at my bare shoulder for a moment longer before smoothly slipping his hand back into his pocket. “What do you say, Abby?” I
Then there’s John and Anton, but John has a daughter in the city who he has shared custody over with his ex-wife, so he won’t leave. Not to mention Anton is rebuilding his relationship with his own wife and daughter. There’s Chloe and Leah, but Leah isn’t one of my staff; she just helps out occasi
Karl Leaning back in the creaking desk chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose. This week’s pack meeting feels like a special kind of torture. It’s not that Ethan is the trouble—actually, he’s been a huge help—but it’s more so that I’m sitting hunched over at a rickety desk in a cheap motel, and I
God dammit. Could be me in here sharing a meal with Abby if I hadn’t gone and ruined everything yet again. Lost in glum thought, I don’t notice anyone approaching until a warm hand lands on my shoulder. “Karl? What are you doing here?” I look up to see Adam standing beside me, wearing his pr
Abby When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I notice is the golden sun filtering in through the sheer curtains, warming my cheek. The second thing I notice is the severe nausea roiling around in my stomach. Oh no. In one swift movement, I throw the covers off and bolt across the room,
I look up from the stove, where a delicate lemon cream sauce is simmering. Tonight’s dinner is lemon chicken and fettuccine, with home-baked focaccia bread. For an appetizer, John is putting together a light cucumber salad. Anton is whipping up pistachio mousse for dessert. “Uh, sure,” I say, dryi