Her desk was too clean. That was the first indication that something was wrong. My Lego tower was exactly where I’d left it. I pushed an errant brick onto the blanket.

Lloyd’s desk was organized but busy with piles of paper, as befitted a man whose career had started before fax machines. It would have to be sorted and cleaned out and it would hurt Diana to do it. I didn’t want her to hurt. I texted Kayti.

How did Diana deal with this level of daily obstruction? I thought Kayti resented me because she didn’t report to me and I still asked her to do things when “things” equaled her fucking job. She’d move mountains for Diana, but everyone else? They could fuck a duck.

I went to the freight elevator and grabbed some discarded boxes, stopped at the supply closet for packing tape, reset the thermostat, and went back to Diana’s office.

Diana was already there, leaning against the back of the couch with her arms crossed.

“Where were you?” she asked, spinning like a lawyer intimidating a hostile witness.

I dropped the boxes by Lloyd’s desk and put the tape on the chair. “Back hall. How did it go?”

“They asked me if Dad owed anyone money. If he had gambling debts. If he had a girlfriend. I mean, really? As if they shouldn’t be interrogating Jason Taqui.”

“I’m sure they are.”

“My father was a fucking pillar of the community.”

“Yes. He was.”

“He didn’t have any enemies. Not one. No one would come here and break a window because they were pissed he what? Died without paying a debt? What. The. Fuck?” She was pinched and raw, buzzing with emotions she couldn’t hold in check.

I closed the office door. “Huntress.”

“How dare they. How dare they try to soil his reputation over a stupid broken window.”

I held her face. When she tried to jerk away, I held her tighter.

“You’re all right,” I said in my dominant voice. Then more softly but with just as much conviction, “You’re all right.”

“How? You don’t see it. I haven’t told you. This whole thing is falling apart. I can’t think of new projects. There are bills on top of ledgers and I don’t know what to pay unless accounting points at a dotted line. I can’t handle it. I can’t. And now? I was keeping it together for him. Why am I here now?”

“You’ve been training to run this company since you were sixteen. You’ve run it the past five years. You have this.”

“With you,” she said, then her face lit up. “Are you coming back? Will you? Please.”

I didn’t know how to answer her. I hadn’t even considered it. The publishing business wasn’t interesting to me. I’d saved the company for her and only her. Without her in the picture, the entire building would have been turned into third-party-managed condos and the backlist would have been sold in bulk to an aggregator who couldn’t give a shit. I’d walked away from what was profitable and walked into what was satisfying. I’d done everything I could to rebuild a failing publishing house; and I never failed in business. Never. Not for myself and especially not for her.

No matter what she said, McNeil-Barnes Publishing was in good shape.

Its owner and president? Less so.

“You don’t need me.” I didn’t think she’d believe me, but it was the truth.

“How can you say that?”

“Listen to me. Breathe and listen. You have this.”

“I don’t finish things.”

“Yes.” My hands slid to her shoulders. “Yes, you do. I won’t let you fall. But I won’t let you undermine yourself either.” I pointed at her seat. “You’re going to move that desk so the window is at your back. You’re going to sit framed in the city like the queen you are. You’re going to take Lloyd’s stuff and go through it. You’re going to respectfully pack what you have to keep and throw away what you don’t. Then you’re going to run the shit out of this place. By yourself. You were born for this. And me. You were born for me.”

She bit her lip. Consternation or arousal? Both? It didn’t matter, because I’d broken through the fear for the moment. We slid our arms around each other.

“I don’t need a pep talk, Steinbeck.”

“What do you need?” I grabbed her ass so hard she let out a sharp ah of pain.

“That.”

She was so hungry for it. In the past month, she’d been willing, but I’d been too wrapped up in my own doubts. I hadn’t seen how right she was for what I had to offer. Sex tangled with violence and I fisted her hair, settling her into my cock as it hardened.

“I was too easy on you yesterday,” I said in her ear.

“Yes, sir.”

“Take off my belt.”

I held her head so she couldn’t see it, leaving her fumbling for the buckle. Having her so uncomfortable, trying to please me despite what I was doing to her, excited and calmed me at the same time.

She got the leather belt through the loops.

“Very good.” I took it and let her hair go. It stayed knotted in the back, a reminder that I’d controlled her. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it. Touch yourself and show me.”

She made short work of her fly, unbuttoning and unzipping in seconds, getting her hand down in there as if it was her job.

She held up her slick hand, trying to staunch a smile. I brought her fingers to my lips and tasted her juice. Then, because I suddenly had no self-control at all, I kissed her so I could christen her mouth with it. I tasted every corner, touching her deepest crevices with my tongue. I wanted to make sure every soft surface she had knew I owned her.

Taking the belt, I pushed her against the window, pressing my body against hers.

“I liked working with you,” she said when we separated to catch a breath.

“You made me crazy.” I pushed my erection against her until her lids fluttered.

“You loved it.”

“Regardless. I’m punishing you for it.” I stepped back and pointed at the window. “Face New York.”

She turned to face the window. The people walking up, down, across, around the street looked like boats on a currentless grey sea. Across the way, the windows of the office building sat in silent witness.

“Let me see your ass.”

She hooked her thumbs in her waistband. I made a plan for the perfect ovals of her bottom if last night’s marks were gone. Another plan for a series of light pink welts, and yet another if it turned out she was still bruised and red. All involved pain and pleasure. All were meant to satisfy her need to forget herself.

I slapped the belt against my palm when her pants were halfway down, and in response, a sharp knock came from the door.

Her head whipped around to look at me even as her bottom remained in my direction.

“Who is it?” I called.

“Hi. Hey. It’s me? Kayti. Have you seen Diana?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Officer… um… the hot one wants to see her? They got the security tapes.”

I looked at her, still bent but without the look of anticipation. I knew the moment had been stolen from us.

“I better take this,” she said. When I nodded, she stood straight and called to the door, “One minute, Kayti.”

“We’ll reconvene tonight.” I put my belt back in the loops.

“My place or yours?” She pulled her pants up and fastened them.

“Ours.”

She smiled for a second then looked at her father’s desk. The sadness wasn’t there, but something more businesslike. I didn’t know exactly what she was thinking, but I had a clear sense of what she was feeling, and it wasn’t fear or hopelessness. They’d be back while she grieved for Lloyd, but she had a handle on it.

“You’re not getting the condo for free.” She went for the door. “I earned it fair and square. Now you have to earn it back.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I demand one hour. Tonight. If you can make me pinochle out in one hour, you get your half of the loft back.”

I’d missed her. I didn’t realize how much. “If I do, I’m moving back in.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the car,” I added.

“Forget it. Go get the Mustang off blocks.”

She opened the door wide enough for me to see Kayti, who smiled like a schoolgirl. She practically jumpy-clapped when she saw me, then she fell into line behind her boss, who walked to meet Officer Gareth like the world’s only badass.

How was I going to get a woman like that to safe out?