ELEVEN

EDMOND

“Mr. Walters, would you like me to order you some lunch? Your three o’clock just called and is running a half-hour late, so you have a small break.”

Usually, I was one to grumble, but I had a lot on my plate. And by "a lot," I meant the girl I had to share my house with for the next twenty-eight days and that God-forsaken app. Not to mention, I truly appreciated that my meeting for three had been delayed. I was expecting the CEO of another agency. We were to talk about the future of the Ivy estate, which we both ran jointly. It wasn't like I could tell someone I barely knew that I had lost the deed to the property due to something as impulsive as a heartbreak. Regardless of how relieved I was, I had to put on a show.

“Why can’t people ever be on damn time?” I grumbled and pushed the button to the intercom to speak to my assistant. “Can you please order me linguine with bacon, peaches, and gorgonzola? And I am begging you, tell them to give it a rest with the peaches. Three sli