I can’t stop thinking about her, even when I’m supposed to be advising the department heads at my father’s company on streamlining employee retention practices. The figures on the sheets in front of me keep slipping away from my attention.

“Mr. Kingsley?”

“Yes?” The man who’s sitting to my right—his name completely escapes me—looks at me through thick, round glasses, his face pink, like he’s doing something slightly embarrassing.

Oh, right. I’ve been staring at this sheet of paper for God knows how long, and everyone in this meeting is waiting on me to say….

What was I talking about?

“I’m sorry, Mr.—”

“Mr. Howard. Joe Howard,” he says, then clears his throat. “You were suggesting some alternative forms of compensation to add to our repertoire.”

“Right. Of course. Thank you, Mr. Howard.” I don’t smile, but I give him a nod. His shoulders relax. “I have a memo here that describes the relative success of flexible vacation time and paid travel opportunities in some of the other divisions. You should all have copies of the emails in your inboxes.”

I stand up, and the rest of the people sitting around the massive meeting room table follow suit. “I’ll be available for further discussion, if necessary.”

A chorus of “Thank you, Mr. Kingsley” rings out around the table, and I slide the leather portfolio carrying my paperwork off the table and leave the room.

I try to keep my stride in check as I head back to my corner office. I want to get back to my phone, to send Carolyn a dirty message, and start making plans for this weekend.

When I came out of the shower this morning, she was gone, a little note on my bedside table.

Work beckons… ~C

In a way. In another way, work is screaming at me to remember that my net worth is well over a billion dollars, and that if I don’t show up at the office, nobody will be the worse for it.

Of course, my father did pull some strings to put me in this temporary time-suck, so I’m not about to blow him off, even if Carolyn is the one woman in the world I want to spend all day in bed with. Possibly ever.

It’s a dangerous thought, but the majority of my mind doesn’t seem to care. The majority of my mind wants to toy with the possibilities, wants to spend every moment without her thinking about what she might be doing, daydreaming about being with her again, fantasizing about making her laugh…and making her do so much more.

She probably won’t answer. She’s probably working in that little boutique of hers—she hasn’t invited me to come see it yet, but I hunted around online until I found out where it was and walked by last week to see where she spends her days—and if I know anything about Carolyn, it’s that she’ll single-mindedly focus on work until the work is done.

Like she’s been focused on getting me out of the Swan and back to my apartment.

So far, we’re one of two success-wise. I want to erase that first disastrous night together from her memory completely, and I can only do that if every weekend from now on is a stellar one.

I’m three doors down from the office when my father comes out of one of the presidents’ offices at high speed, looking over his shoulder to say one last thing.

“Oh, and Schell, don’t even think about—shit!”

I skid to a stop, my hand on his shoulder, in time to keep from running him down.

“Son!” he says, laughing, and claps his hand against my shoulder. “Where the hell are you going at such a high speed? Don’t tell me you’ve discovered a passion for advising.”

“Maybe I have,” I say, sticking my hands into my pockets. “Sorry about that.”

My father looks like me, only he’s twenty-five years older and a silver fox. His smile is as genuine as they come. At least he doesn’t think I’m a killer. Although it’s possible he hasn’t heard anything out of Italy either. If his board members haven’t brought it up, he likely doesn’t care. My father’s business is his life. I rank high up there, but the main thing is that I don’t hurt the business. I don’t resent him for that, but my throat tightens. I hope this shit somehow stays in Italy. I hope it doesn’t get to New York. I don’t want to put that on his plate.

It’s not true, of course. Only one thing about that situation is true. But I would feel horrible if it damaged his enterprise in any way. Me? I can recover. My investments are rock solid. But he’s been known to take a risk with the stock market here and there, and….

I open my mouth to say something, but there’s nothing I can say right now—not coherently, at least. My marriage to Elisa wasn’t a family celebration. It was more a matter of necessity, and now that she’s gone, I don’t want to give my father the punch to the gut of knowing that he wasn’t at my wedding, even if it was a—

He throws his arm around my shoulders and turns me back in the direction I came from. “Let’s get the hell out of here, son,” he says jovially.

“Wait—what? I don’t have—” I don’t have anything, aside from my wallet. My phone is locked in my desk. I want to send Carolyn a message so badly I can practically feel it underneath my fingers.

“Your phone? Leave it! We’re going to lunch.”

“I scheduled a meeting for—”

He waves his hand in the air. “It can wait another twenty minutes. I’m taking my son out to lunch, and we’re going to have a conversation. No phones. Let’s go!”

“All right,” I say, plastering a smile on my face.

“What?” my father says, leaning in, grinning. “You in love with a girl, is that it? Can’t wait another hour to talk to her?”

My mouth drops open as his words sink in.

“No,” I choke out, finally.

It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told, because now that my father has said it—even if he was only kidding—I have no choice but to accept it.

I’ve fallen for Carolyn Banks.