I don’t know what came over me back there.

That’s a lie.

I know exactly what came over me, and what came over me is that I’m in love with Quinn Campbell. I’m in love with her, and there’s nothing that anyone can do about it.

On Monday, I put some things into motion. I made a few calls. I consulted with a few people, anonymously, because I’m not as stupid as my decisions make me seem.

With every moment that’s passed since I left my father’s office on Monday, the way ahead has become clearer and clearer. It’s like a light has gone on in my head, illuminating everything I need to do with such clarity that it’s blinding.

I don’t care.

Getting her back is all that matters.

When I sat down across from Quinn, I saw the struggle in her eyes. I saw what she was trying so valiantly to hide. I saw it in the way there were tiny crescents on two of her knuckles from clenching her hands into fists. I heard it in the tired strain in her voice. And I felt it between us, the connection stretched so tight it’s ready to snap.

But it hasn’t yet.

That’s what buoys me as I get the hell out of HRM’s headquarters and slide into the back of the town car.

It’s not over for her.

She might tell herself that it is. She might even tell other people—Carolyn comes to mind—that she’s done with me. I’m only surprised that Quinn didn’t admit it to me during the meeting. She prides herself on honesty. I haven’t forgotten how she told me she learned about Elijah—the person she thought was Elijah—while sitting at that very desk. It’s not like her to hide things, which means that I hurt her deeply.

It also means that she hasn’t made up her mind yet.

She’s hedging her bets, not wanting to give up more information than necessary.

Once again, I’m impressed by her professionalism in the face of total devastation.

When I got up to leave, I couldn’t keep myself under control any longer. I had to say something, anything, to acknowledge the situation we’re in. I certainly didn’t plan it, otherwise I’d have said something other than “this isn’t over.”

Of course it isn’t over. If nothing else, we’re working with each other until…

Until what? Until she rats me out? She’s not going to do that. If she was going to, she’d have done it by now.

What else is there to do?

She could quit.

No, she couldn’t. Quinn isn’t a quitter. She came out here to build a new life for herself, and she’s not the kind of woman who’s going to flee the city without giving notice because a new relationship didn’t make the cut.

Or so she thinks.

While Louis navigates the town car through the midmorning traffic, I fight the urge to tell him to turn around right now.

It’s not over.

I want to go back there and explain what I’m planning to do, but it’s taking longer than I expected to get all the pieces in place.

There’s also the fact that she probably thinks I’m a disturbed liar—a felonious criminal. Maybe she even thinks that I murdered my brother.

It’s also entirely possible that I’ll be prosecuted for identity theft once…

I can’t think about that now.

The only thing that matters to me is how I feel when I’m with Quinn, and how she feels when she’s with me. The only thing that matters is us.

I close my eyes and think back to the first time I saw her, frantically yanking on the handle of that suitcase, stuck out in the middle of the intersection, the rain cascading down on top of her. I didn’t know the first thing about her, but her strength drew me in even then. She hadn’t broken down when the jerk in the SUV sent her suitcase flying, didn’t crumple onto the sidewalk and cry. She commented on it wryly and then went right back out into the street to collect her sopping wet clothes from the pavement without ever missing a beat.

She’s still that woman.

She’s still the same woman who decided to give her life in Colorado the middle finger and do something else because, damn it, she wasn’t going to live with the memory of her asshole ex-fiancé flung in her face all the time.

So, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she will leave the city.

But if I know Quinn—and I think I do—she won’t leave before I can set things straight.

And I have to make this right with her. Between us.

Louis pulls the town car up to the curb outside the Pierce Industries building, and I step out into the sweltering summer heat. It’s miserable in the city right now. I can’t wait for autumn.

By the time the leaves fall from the trees, this nightmare will be over, one way or another. I have no idea right now if solving one problem will lead to a thousand more, but now that I’ve seen Quinn, my mind is made up.

The lobby of the building is blessedly frigid, and I move at a leisurely pace across the lobby to the bank of elevators. Our floor is, obviously, air conditioned as well, but the lobby might as well be a walk-in refrigerator. The cool is amazing on my flushed skin. It’s not only the weather that has me hot and bothered, and my heart rate is so high right now that I’m probably in danger of cardiac arrest.

It’s time to get this show on the road.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step into the empty car. There are a few things I need to finish up this morning, and at some point—

A man sticks his arm between the closing doors. They stop closing, and then start sliding open again.

It’s my new lawyer.

“Mr. Pierce,” he says, a sheepish smile on his face. “I was in a bit of a hurry, hoping to meet with you by lunch—”

“Not a problem,” I say, smiling back. “We can get started on our business right away.”