So after all that, I probably shouldn’t fucking leave you hanging.

It’s five years later, and I’m suddenly looking at Madeline, facing her at the end of the hallway.

But you might be wondering what the hell that text message actually said, and if we ever got back together.

The answer to the second question is no, we didn’t. In fact, this is the first I’m seeing her since that day in Hawaii, at the bar on the beach.

The answer to the first question is that, from what I can remember, she said that she had a great time, then she doubled down a bit and used the word amazing to describe it, but she said as fun as it was, she didn’t want to continue, to expand past a vacation fling.

She ended the message with the word Aloha.

God, she looks fucking amazing right now. Even better than all my memories—and my dreams.

Okay, I’ll admit that I remember the whole fucking message really fucking well, even though I made the decision to delete it immediately for the sake of moving on as quickly as possible.

Did it work? What the hell do you think? Seriously, because over the course of the past half-decade, I’ve gone in and out of thinking about it and seeming to not think about it.

But when I do think about it, it’s still more intense than I’d like. And right now, with Madeline occupying a prime space in my vision, center-fucking stage, I don’t have a choice but to really think about it—and then some.

So after Maddie informs me of the investigation, what do I say?

“Am I being arrested?”

I know damn well I’m not. I think it’s a joke, even though I usually have a good handle on whether I’m joking or not. You know, like most healthy people.

“No,” she answers, dead serious. And now she’s walking toward me. Good God.

“That’s not even close to being in my purview,” Maddie’s voice continues, getting closer as her heels clack down the hallway. “But I suspect you know that.”

Maddie stops ten feet away from me, her face betraying that she realizes my joke. I guess it was a joke.

I feel myself catching on fucking fire as Maddie starts walking toward me again. My mouth is going fucking arid, and my heart is lifting off in tempo in a way it hasn’t in years. Five years, to be exact.

I almost want to ask her to stop, that I wasn’t prepared for this, but I don’t fucking dare.

This hallway doesn’t get too much natural light, but what little there is catches the full brilliance of that emerald hue that I’ve forced myself to forget about.

“I figured as much,” I reply hoarsely.

Every single person in the office besides me has taken it upon themselves to hide. I’m sure some people made a beeline for the elevator, but most everyone else is certainly huddled on the other side of their closed office doors, listening to every word of this exchange, trying to analyze every nuance in real time.

I wonder what they thought of that last sentence and how I said it. That’s pretty fucking funny to think about, but what I’m enjoying thinking about even more right now is how Maddie made everyone run in fear with just her presence and a few simple words.

That is really fucking sexy.

God, she looks good.

“I have a good deal more to explain about it, but to give you a couple important nuggets to start with, I’ve been chosen to head the investigation, and while I’m loath to take up much of your time, I’m going to need your help.”

There’s a reason that Maddie needed to call me Mr. Barrett. There’s no way she would be heading this investigation if anybody at the SEC knew about our history, brief as it was.

I suppose she didn’t feel it was even worth bringing up—that she feels so little about it that it wouldn’t be a conflict at all.

There’s a lot more I’m thinking about, though. Like how five years can go by so fucking fast. Or how feelings that seem like they should’ve faded completely are now arising again in dizzyingly vivid and sharp definition.

I look at Maddie, who’s now silent yet stoic, looking for any signs of what she’s going through. I see none—it could be everything, it could very easily be nothing.

I can’t believe she’s here, though. Literally.

I’ve heard that one way you can tell if you’re dreaming or not is to look at your hand. If you see the normal number of fingers, at their usual lengths, then you are in the waking world. I take a furtive glance at my outstretched left hand—it looks on the level.

Which means she’s really fucking here, and she really looks this good.

“Are you okay, Mr. Barrett?” Madeline’s eyes dart quickly down to my left hand, indicating that she noticed my look.

“Oh yeah, I was just checking something. So is this gonna take long?” I’m trying not to give any outward indications about our past, or at least how I feel about it.

“Long?” There’s a sparkle in Maddie’s eye. It sends a flicker of heat straight through my chest, and I need to concentrate on not falling backward—as if I’m being pummeled by a swift wind.

“I have a few minutes now. If you need longer, like a half hour, I may have some open time for an appoint—”

Maddie lets out a judicious laugh, but it’s still enough that the old sensation of being entranced by a riveting siren song comes flooding back.

“I apologize for laughing, Mr. Barrett.”

“You can call me Ethan.”

“Okay, Eth...an. This is not a matter we can settle over lunch. We’re just at the very beginning stages of this investigation. We are going to need your cooperation over the course of the next few weeks, maybe longer. You are going to have to work with me during that time.”

“Wow. That’s going to be a big time commitment on my part. I guess I better start rearranging my schedule.”

I get the beginnings of that helium-balloon feeling, like when Maddie first suggested she could visit New York all those years ago. Except this time, it’s weighted down by the fact this is all part of an insider fucking trading investigation.

“I suggest you start now, Mr. Barrett. You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Maddie’s austere expression betrays the faintest hint of a smirk.