“Gather round, everyone.”

Charlene is standing in front of our desks, clapping her hands to get our attention. We all drag our chairs into the center of the room for yet another meeting. When she’s satisfied that she has our complete attention, Charlene smiles beatifically down at us.

“I have wonderful news,” she announces. “We have more photos.”

Miracle! For once this meeting might not be a total waste of time. I actually feel a twinge of excitement at maybe possibly getting to write about something that isn’t those stupid wingback chairs.

“We have everything we need for the soft furnishings section, so I’d like to see that completed by the end of the week.”

Soft furnishings? Seriously? Soft furnishings is the easiest section of the catalog — it’s just curtains and throw pillows and rugs and stuff. It isn’t even designed by the Whittakers; it’s all outsourced. So this is hardly the coupe that Charlene is making it out to be.

Jim, as usual, puts up his hand. “What about living rooms?”

“We’re still waiting.”

“Bedrooms?”

“Still waiting.”

Jim sighs. “Those are the linchpins of the catalog.”

“I’m aware of that,” Charlene huffs. “I’m sure Luke and Trent have it under control. Trent has personally assured me that it’s all coming together.” She emphasizes the word ‘personally’ and pats her hair when she says it. I catch Sloane’s eye and we both snicker.

Once Charlene finally dismisses us, Sloane grabs her chair and we walk back to our desks together.

“Can you believe this? I need a drink.”

“Coffee?” I ask but she shakes her head.

“Something stronger. Feel like going out after work? There’s a great martini bar around the corner.”

Martinis with Sloane — that sounds like exactly what I need right now.

I smile gratefully at her. “I would love that. I’ll just have to let my sister know I’m going to be late.”

I go back to my desk and fire up my computer again. Just one new email — I glance quickly at the name of the sender. Lottie Granger.

It takes me a second before I realize that Lottie Granger is Trent Whittaker’s secretary. I frantically click on the email and realize it’s a calendar invite. All it says is “Discussion.”

And it’s scheduled for today at four o’clock.

Icy fear fills my veins. No.

Okay, maybe it’s not what I think. Maybe it’s a marketing thing; he wants to talk about the catalog.

I wander back over to Sloane’s desk, trying to look nonchalant.

“Do you know what that four o’clock meeting with Trent Whittaker is about?”

Her brow furrows. “What meeting?”

“Did you not just get an invite from Lottie?”

She glances at her computer screen and then shakes her head. “Nope. Why, did you?”

Panic races through me.

“No,” I lie. Then I realize how stupid lying is. “Well, yeah,” I admit. “But it must be a mistake. I’ll ask Charlene about it.”

“Okay.” Sloane is looking at me curiously again so I force myself to give her a smile before I turn and walk back to my desk on shaky legs.

This is a disaster. I can’t be in the same room with Trent right now. What if he recognizes me?

Or worse … what if he’s already figured out who I am, and he’s calling me up there to fire me?

I try to tell myself that’s impossible. If he didn’t recognize me last night, there’s no way he’s already worked out who I am. No, it has to be a work-related discussion. Doesn’t it?

Maybe I’m overreacting. Just because Sloane didn’t get the invite doesn’t mean nobody else did. Maybe Charlene got the invite too.

I glance over towards her office. The door is open and she’s sitting at her desk, clicking away at her keyboard.

I get up and walk over to her office. My legs are still shaking and I feel another wave of nausea as I knock on her door.

She glances up at me. “Hello Hannah. What can I do for you?”

I lean against the doorframe. “I was just wondering, uh…” I hesitate, then spit it out. “Do you know anything about this four o’clock meeting with Trent Whittaker?”

Her eyes narrow and she leans forward, pushing her breasts up against her keyboard. “What meeting?” she barks.

“Uh, I don’t know. I just got an invite for 4pm. I thought it was something to do with the catalog.”

Charlene eyes me suspiciously. “We don’t have a catalog meeting today.” Her tone is crisp. “What did you do?”

“What did I do?”

“Yes,” she repeats. “What did you do? He wouldn’t be calling you to his office if you hadn’t done something wrong. Though I don’t know why I wouldn’t be notified if one of my staff was being disciplined.” Now I can’t tell if she’s pissed at me or at Trent.

“I didn’t do anything!” I insist. I obviously don’t mention the fact that I basically wrote porn to our CEO, although now that’s all I can think about.

“I’ll call Lottie,” she says, holding up one finger while she picks up the phone. “And sort this out.”

She dials a number and I wait while she explains the situation to Trent’s secretary.

“Yes,” she’s saying. “I see. Of course. Thank you for letting me know.”

My stomach sinks lower and lower and with every word. This doesn’t sound good.

When Charlene hangs up the phone, she shakes her head.

“Lottie didn’t know what it was about, but she said Trent insisted you attend this meeting on your own.”

Now she’s really looking at me suspiciously. I can feel her gaze still lingering on me as I make my way slowly back to my desk, and I can feel her glare as I slump into my seat.

I’m running out of options here. Maybe I can go home sick? Fake a heart attack? Proactively quit so that at least I don’t give him the satisfaction of firing me?

But even though I’m dreading this meeting with almost every fiber of my being, there’s a tiny part of me that’s curious. That wants to see him. That wants to feel those gorgeous intense eyes on me again, even if it’s quickly followed by him telling me to pack my things.

At a few minutes to four, I head to the elevator. I take my purse with me, just in case I’m about to be escorted out of the building. I can once again feel Charlene’s eyes on me the whole time I wait for the elevator.

The ride up to the thirtieth floor is the longest of my life. My palms are sweating, my knees weak. I pop a breath mint just to get rid of the nervous sour taste in my mouth.

When the elevator doors ping open I step out of the elevator nervously, sure everyone on this floor knows I don’t belong up here. And they’re right. I’ve never actually been anywhere on the thirtieth floor except the main conference room so I blindly make my way down the hall, looking for Trent’s office.

It’s Lottie that I find first. She’s sitting behind a grand mahogany desk and delicately peeling an orange. I can smell the sweet bitter citrus as soon as I approach.

“Hi. I’m Hannah? Cole? I have a meeting with Trent at four?” I hate how childish and nervous my voice sounds, but I can’t help it.

“Yes, Miss Cole. He’s expecting you. Through that door and then it’s the office on the left.”

“Thank you.”

I push open the heavy frosted glass door she had pointed to and let it fall closed behind me. There are two offices back here, one at either end of the hall. I see Trent’s name on one, and Luke’s on the other.

I turn toward Trent’s office. The door is closed and I knock lightly. I say a Hail Mary prayer that maybe he’s already gone for the day.

Instead I hear his deep voice ring out from inside his office.

“Come in.”

I push open this second door and step inside. I see him right away, sitting behind his desk, his laptop open in front of him.

He looks up at me and a hint of a smile twists up the corner of his perfect lips. It looks strangely incongruous with the darkness in his eyes, with the smoldering way he looks at me.

God, why does he have to be so gorgeous? He’s removed his suit jacket and is wearing just a crisp white button-down and a navy and yellow striped tie. His broad muscles threaten to bust through the slim-cut shirt at any moment. They ripple as he puts his elbows up on his desk and steeples his fingers together.

Trent Whittaker’s half-grin twists into a full-blown smirk as he watches me standing nervously at his door.

“Hello SweetVixen,” he says.