I thump my sorry ass down on the couch, wine in one hand, food in the other.

I get the cork off the bottle and take a swig.

Who the fuck even needs a glass?

I pull over the laptop and click on Bea.

I’m way too mad to just sit here or do some work. Too tired from the long day to work out.

The brown paper bag full of Thai food is giving off an amazing smell, and I decide to have a look through. I pull out some crispy rolls and start munching on them.

I didn’t realize I was so hungry.

I guess fucking my whole life up in an instant does that to a girl.

I have to admit, Will does have excellent taste in food.

Shitty taste in women, though.

At this point, myself included.

I decide then and there that I’m going to eat everything in this bag. I shove in another pile of noodles in my mouth.

Then, my screen lights up.

Video chat from Bea. I answer immediately.

“Hey sis, what’re you doin’?” Bea smiles widely across the screen.

“Ruining everything,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “And destroying like a billion calories worth of Thai food while I’m at it.”

It comes out too loud. Bea immediately takes a closer look at me.

“Babe, honey, what the fuck? You look like you just went ten rounds with an ostrich.”

“Bea, I seriously don’t want another run through of that time you were a zoo keeper.”

“The bitch has a bite tonight! What’s the trouble bubble?”

“Will,” I say. One word, and my eyes burn with tears. Fuck this. “Will is fucking trouble. I should’ve known it. I fucking should’ve seen it coming. But here I am, crying into my fucking wine.”

Bea chuckles. “Babe, you don’t know how to fucking cry. Remember that time—”

“No,” I shake my head. “I don’t want to wander off down memory lane tonight. I just want this to be over, Bea.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“It started with his sister today. She gets up in my face about Will, being all fucking catty about it too. So, I wasn’t fucking happy. Then I get in, and he’s not here. So, I decide to do some snooping. Well, I’m not going into the details—but Google knows a lot about Will. There’s so much smut under his name I’m surprised it doesn’t sync data with the local garbage collectors.”

Bea gives a chuckle and a nod. “But you love him anyway.”

At least, I’m breathing more easily now. I’m still fucking mad, but I’m starting to think clearly.

“Probably,” I sigh. “But he’s a dick, and he’s gone. C’est la fucking vie.”

It’s a real fucking shame that with the thoughts come feelings.

Will’s blue eyes getting dark and stormy. That split second of hurt I saw across his face. Those sweet dark eyelashes against his pale cheeks as he sleeps.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I mutter, not even realizing I’m still on call with Bea.

“Sounds like you do, babe.”

Suddenly, a buzzing noise fills my apartment. Someone’s ringing me at the gate, wanting to be buzzed up.

Bea and I say our goodbyes as I head for the door. Will doesn’t always use the buzzer. He gets into most buildings just by being Will Ambrose, and he’s been here before so the desk probably wouldn’t care.

Intellect and emotion rarely meet in the middle. All these good reasons still add up to my heart whispering at me.

It’s Will, come to declare his love.

Fuck off. As if.

“Hello?” I push the button.

“I have a Mr. Paxton here for you, ma’am. He says he would like to talk business with you. He is your associate?”

I think for a second. This is a bit weird.

It’s getting late. I’ve never had a client visit me at home before. But, then again, I’ve never been CEO of a big company before.

I increased Paxton’s profits significantly in the last few days. Maybe he wants to make new investments. Really, he shouldn’t be calling on me personally.

I know that. I also know the rules at the top are not everyone’s rules.

Rich, busy people do things that they shouldn’t because they know that they can.

I know how to deal with Paxton. And I want to deal with anything other than my fucking feelings for Will right now.

This can only work in my favor.

Besides, it’ll be nice to rub Will’s nose in it after I add investments and increase profit.

If he ever talks to me again after all of this, I guess.

I click the button.

“Let Mr. Paxton up, please.”