Fuck. As if I don’t already have enough on my plate.

I’m in New York for this new project, and it’s all going wrong. To be fair, we’ve already had a few meetings, and they’ve been okay.

But tomorrow morning, we’ll need the notarized original of a specific document to finalize the deal . . . and I don’t fucking have it.

I’m kicking myself for being an idiot. I fucked up, and I need to fix this.

Luke’s with me on this trip—it’s a big enough deal that his presence will help ease the investors’ minds. He’s taking a few days off his busy schedule as a happily married family man to play at big-shot CEO again, and he seems to be enjoying himself.

“Man, it feels good to be back at work,” he says as he lounges on a couch and sips from a cold bottle of beer.

I take a break from my fretful pacing to cock an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, looks like you’re really sweating.”

Luke shoots me a grin. I’ll never admit this to him, but it feels good to have him here. It feels like old times.

“It doesn’t matter, though,” I say. “We just need your pretty face here as a figurehead while the rest of us do the real work.”

He thinks for a moment then laughs. “I guess I’m cool with that. And my face is pretty—you’re right.”

We’ve worked together long enough that we’re more like good buddies than boss and underling. Luke originally hired me because I’m a straight shooter and not a sycophant.

In his wilder years, before he met Tessa, he needed an influence like that in his life. He was still adjusting from the life of leisure and parties he’d been leading to being an actual CEO with actual responsibilities when his old man stepped down.

I’ve gotten him out of more than a few scrapes, and we trust each other implicitly.

Doesn’t mean he can’t still be an arrogant jerk sometimes, though. But I guess that’s part of his charm.

“Anyway,” he says. “You need to get this document, Brocky Boy, or the deal’s off. What are you going to do?”

I bite my lip, thinking. “I’ll deal with it.”

I pick up my phone and dial Nina’s number.

“Brock?” she answers. “What’s up? I wasn’t expecting a call from you. Is everything okay over there?”

I take a breath. It’s late, after office hours, and so I have to make sure I sound apologetic and conciliatory because I’m going to need a big favor from her.

“Yeah . . . about that,” I begin. “I screwed up. I need the notarized original of the contract in my desk at work. I just plain forgot.”

“Oh, okay,” she says casually. “I can go in now and courier it over to you if you want? I’ll need overtime pay, of course. This girl don’t work for free.”

I chuckle at her little joke, the tension in my body melting a little. “That’s not going to work. The document is vital for this deal, and I can’t risk it not showing up in time. I had an idea . . .”

She groans. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’ll book you a ticket tonight. You’ll be here in a few hours. I know it’s my fault, so I’ll pay you double overtime, and I’ll book you a first-class ticket to make up for it. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a pain in the ass,” she says, laughing. “But I guess I don’t have all that much choice. Is booze included in first class?”

“All the champagne you can drink.”

“Hmmm. Deal. But you owe me one.”

“Owe you one?” I splutter. “What about double overtime and first class; don’t they count?”

“They’re the baseline for even getting me to haul my pretty ass across the country. One favor owed makes up the balance.”

I sigh even as a small smile curves my lips. “Sure. Whatever. I’ll book the flight now and email the details over to you. See you later.”

Luke’s looking over at me with interest. “Was that your new assistant? The pretty one whose desk I hear has become your new office?”

“‘The pretty one?’” I fold my arms across my chest. “You’ve got to be careful with that kind of language, Luke, now that you’re a married man.”

He shrugs. “A happily married man, yeah. A successfully coupled man who can’t help but notice that his friend is having trouble telling a girl that he likes her.”

I feel my face heat up like a teenager and immediately curse myself for it. I mumble something about how it’s just work, how I’m just helping out a buddy’s little sister.

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say,” Luke says in an infuriating, mocking tone.

I ignore him and glance at my phone for a distraction. There’s a new text message.

It’s from Rosa, my ex, and it’s a compliment so back-handed that it’s practically a slap. I have no idea why she feels the need to text me.

I decide to reply.

She’s married now, to my cousin. I should just block her number—should but don’t.

I don’t want the drama. For better or worse, she’s in my family now, and I need to be the better man. Stay cordial, and ignore her as best as possible.

And, to be honest, having Nina around makes that significantly easier. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.