Sweat dampens the resignation letter clutched in my hand. The envelope is crinkles, and Mason’s name is smudged. Not exactly the most professional way to terminate my position with Daylight Holdings, but then, my entire time here has been marred with unprofessional behavior.

Even standing at Mason’s desk, staring at the stacks of paperwork, I don’t regret the decisions that landed me in this predicament. My thoughts stray to all the times I’ve been bent over this desk, bare ass in the air, Mason’s tongue between my legs, and I shoulder the first suffering blow of doubt.

Am I ready to give all of this up?

Give him up?

The chance of something more?

Mason’s not in the office.

I’m not sure if I should be relieved to find him out, but a part of me is disappointed. Maybe if we saw one another, maybe he would ask me not to go.

I breathe in his scent like some damn stalker, and realize I don’t have much of a choice. He all but broke things off with me, and besides—Mason is incapable of giving me what I need. What I deserve.

My heart pounds like a kick drum.

Carefully, I set the letter on his keyboard, where I know it won’t get lost among the other papers scattered across his desk. The motion brings the screen to life, free from its usual password protection. My stomach clenches. Mason only leaves the screen live when he’s following a transaction.

I glance up, expecting to see him glowering at me through the doorway, but he’s still at his meeting.

Step away, Liv.

I will my legs to find strength. To walk out that door, never to return. But a ping from the laptop pulls my attention. The open page on the screen looks familiar. Peering closer, I realize that it’s the same bad trade he began a few days ago when I found him drunk at his apartment. A shiver goes down my spine.

This is a bad move.

Daylight Holdings stands to lose millions of dollars, and while I know that’s just a drop in the bucket for Mason, the fact that he hasn’t cleared it with his partners will further drive a wedge between them. I can’t let that happen.

But what are my options?

Mason made it clear never to second guess him, and I’ve been wrong before. Millions of dollars’ worth of wrong. I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating my choices. Mason Wood is a financial genius. Daylight Holdings is one of the top hedge fund companies in the world.

I scroll through the data, and my skin prickles in goose bumps.

The company doesn’t stand to lose millions—it could lose hundreds of millions.

There’s too much leverage in the trade, if it goes sideways the ramifications could be disastrous.

Fuck.

I dial Mason’s cell, and it goes straight to voice mail. I hang up before leaving a message. Then I text him 911 to let him know how important this is.

My fingernails tap on his desk. My eyes skim over the envelope. I’m done here, resignation effective immediately. This trade—good, bad, or indifferent—isn’t my concern.

The countdown ticks down.

I hold my breath. Think, Liv.

What if I called Lucas? No, not Lucas, Holden. My fingers hover the keys, weighing the risks. Even if I stop the trade, they’ll still know that Mason went behind their back, and the only thing I’ll have saved is their bank account.

My stomach flips over.

Sweat breaks out across the nape of my neck.

Trust your instincts.

Isn’t this what Mason has talked about? The moment of truth. My gut tells me to stop the trade and suffer the consequences. But my gut hasn’t exactly been a harbinger of good fortune lately.

Just pull the trigger.

What if I’m wrong, though?

What if he has some sort of tip I don’t know about?

Do the right thing. Do what’s in your gut, Liv.

That’s what a real day trader with killer instinct would do. She’d forget about the devilish whisper on her shoulder telling her to back away. Stay cautious. After all these months, I’m still wavering. Scared to trust my inner compass.

But it’s not just the planner in me that hesitates.

I shouldn’t even be touching Mason’s computer. That rule was made clear on my first day, with dire consequences should I cross that line. I have no right to question his decisions—Mason Wood is the CEO. With my resignation letter typed and presented, I’m not even an employee, anymore.

I close my eyes and will back the tears. I wish things were different, that Mason would have let down the walls that keep his heart caged. Or at least that I’d been bolder, tried breaking down the barriers myself. I should have fought for us. For what I want. Instead, I’m taking the easy way out—exactly what I told Mason I wouldn’t ever do.

I stand, draw in a juddering breath, and exhale.

I’ve tried to call him.

That’s all I can do.

I set the envelope back on the keyboard and turn away. But pin pricks of doubt chip away at my resolve. I shake the mouse to bring the screen into focus, and note the clock ticking down on the trade. My stomach twists into a knot. Mason is making a mistake.

One that could cost him everything.

I tap the keyboard lightly, fingers hovering.

Fifteen seconds.

Stop the trade.

I cry out a soft whisper of distress. My heart beats so fast it’s about to pop through my chest.

Ten seconds.

Nine.

Fuck it.

I hit delete.

My relief comes out in a whoosh as the numbers begin to flash on the screen and the market moves.

Thank god I cancelled the trade.

It would have been a bloodbath.

He likely would have been fired for it, drummed out of the business for such a costly screw up.

I was right. Tears spring to my eyes and I blink them back, sucking is gulps of air. Pride swells in my chest, overshadowing the sadness of knowing that just as I figure things out, I’m walking out the door for good.

Fate is a cruel mistress.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

My head snaps upright at the roar of Mason’s angry voice. I take a step back from the computer, tripping over his chair. My hip hits the edge of the desk, and I mutter a curse. For the first time since I started working at Daylight Holdings the bruise on my ass will be of my own doing.

I hold my hands up. “I can explain.”

Mason doesn’t appear interested in what I have to say. He storms toward his desk with large strides. My heart leaps up into my throat. He’s pissed—holy fuck is he mad. He yanks the computer around, shifting the envelope to his desk, and slams the lid closed. “This is confidential business.”

“I know, I—”

“I’m not interested in excuses, Miss Landers. This rule is non-negotia—” His attention is drawn to the envelope, and the smudged lettering across the center. “What’s this?”

I swallow hard. He takes out my letter and unfolds the paper, his expression hardening as he reads the words I’ve committed to memory. Thank you for this opportunity. I regret to inform you...

“You can’t quit,” he says, incredulous.

He’s disappointed, surprisingly so.

“I think it’s for the best,” I say.

Here I could launch into a lengthy rationale for my decision, but the look on his face suggests he isn’t interested in my reasons. He tosses the letter in the garbage. “I see.”

“Thank you for the opportunity,” I say, echoing the sentiment of my letter.

Mason glowers at me. “I gave you a job when no one else would hire you, taught you everything I know,” he says, voice low and raw with disgust. “And this is how you repay me?”

My heart begins to gallop.

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” His sneer goes colder, meaner. “You’ve just proven you don’t have the chops to make it as a day trader.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, feeling my spine straighten under the pressure. “Maybe if you stopped wallowing in pity and gave me a god damn chance, you’d see I’m smarter than you give me credit for. I just saved your company a shit ton of money.”

His eyebrow lifts.

“Consider it my parting gift,” I say, rendering him speechless for perhaps the first time ever.

And with that, I spin on my heel, and walk out the door, knowing I did and said what was needed.

Maybe I did learn something from him after all.

How to be a ruthless shark.