The second Carolyn is off the elevator, I call Sasabune and insist on being connected to the head chef. It’s one of my favorite restaurants in the city, and they’ll do whatever it takes to keep me a happy customer—something I’m more than willing to take advantage of, especially in times like these.

Carolyn could have stepped into the hallway without another word, maybe with her middle finger raised, but she didn’t. She joked. She gave me a chance.

And maybe I’m screwing myself over. Maybe I’m going to end up with a heart bleeding with a thousand razor cuts, but my gut says that I should seize this opportunity. So I’m going to do more than put my foot in the doorway. I’m going to kick down the door.

The next call I place is to Noah.

“I have an order at Sasabune. Pick it up and deliver it to Carolyn Banks on the sixth floor.”

“You got it, boss.”

He makes no other comment.

He deserves a raise.

My heart thuds against my rib cage while I make the walk from the elevator to my penthouse. If Noah performs up to his usual standards, he’ll be at Carolyn’s door inside half an hour. I don’t know how the hell he does it in New York traffic.

This is the perfect way to show her that she hasn’t gotten the last word in on this, even if what she said to me on the way out of the elevator made heat flash through my chest.

It was also accurate.

She’s incredible in bed. Almost frighteningly so. I thought Elisa was my soul mate, my perfect match, but even Elisa never reached Carolyn’s level.

The air in the room seems thin, now that I’m thinking of Elisa. Maybe she could have been on Carolyn’s level. Maybe we didn’t have enough time. Maybe if I had—

No.

There’s no point in dwelling on what happened in Italy. Bad things happen. The only thing I can do now is to move on. God knows her family never wants to see me again, even if ultimately it was their fault—

Stop.

I focus on the scene that’s about to play out a couple of floors below me. Noah will knock on the door. Will her heart race? Will she think it’s me? He might be waiting a few minutes—she could be in the shower, soaping up that gorgeous body after a day at work, and then—

A text message comes into my phone.

Delivered.

I start to type back. How did she like it? Did she slam the door in your face?

Then I delete all of it. I’m not going to go there. Noah did his job. If he wants to tell me what Carolyn looked like when she opened the door, that’s up to him. I’m not going to harass him for details like I’m head over heels in love with her.

I’m not in love with her.

You could be.

It’s probably true. There was something about Carolyn that drew me to her the moment I saw her, and the way she moves—the way she’s witty and sharp and strong and confident—makes me want more of her.

Even though I shouldn’t.

For her sake as well as mine. She’s not going to want to be dragged into this mess.

I can’t let it go. That’s the bitch of it. I can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop wanting to be next to her. I could have had the guys pack up the moving truck and drive it to my second choice of new places.

If I’m going to approach the rest of my life with the attitude that I’ll never back down from getting what I want, then I’ll start with Carolyn.

Even if it ends in disaster.

The thought of pursuing her makes my heart leap and turn inside my chest.

No. You know what?

Apocalypse or no, I’m going to see where this takes me.

First things first.

I text Eli Pierce.

What’s the plan for the Swan on Friday?

It takes him a few minutes, but he responds.

Go to the Swan. Get our regular table. Drink. Dance.

Who’s going?

This is as close as I can get to asking him if Carolyn will be there. Sending a bag of fancy sushi was one thing. Talking to all her friends about her will make me seem like a creep.

Me, Quinn, Jess, Alec—the crowd.

I sigh heavily. Of course he doesn’t—

Oh, and probably Carrie Banks if she’s free. She’s usually up for a good time.

Cool. When?

9

A strange electricity moves down my arms to my fingertips. Two days and I’ll have the chance to be with Carolyn again. It’s too much to hope for a repeat of last Friday—way too much to hope for—so I won’t even entertain the possibility. Looking at her will be better than this.

The ghost of what I had with Elisa rears up, spearing my chest with cold regret. I swallow hard, trying to get the warmth of excitement back, and it’s hard, and it hurts, but I do it.

Then I move toward the new master bedroom. It’s not as large as the one in my old penthouse, but it’s also not stuffed with memories of Elisa, of what could have been with her.

I pull out a brand new pair of exercise gear, shorts and a tank top that’s tight on my cut abs, from the top drawer of the shelving unit in the walk-in closet. I take one second to survey how I look in the mirror. There’s a glint in my eyes, color in my cheeks. I’m not hunched over with the pain.

Not even Carolyn Banks can deter me now.

Gym. Food. Movies.

And tonight, when I dream about her, it will be all about the possibilities.