By Monday morning, my email inbox is a war zone, each message a grenade lobbed straight into my lap by Blair fucking Keneally.

Subject: Eric Webb

Subject: Next steps with Eric

Subject: Eric’s transition off the team

Subject: We need to deal with this expediently

All weekend I walked around in a haze of anger and denial, trying to convince myself this was just a bad dream. That I’d wake up this morning relaxed and refreshed, Ellie murmuring in my arms, the sun beaming through my windows to bleach away this Blair-induced nightmare.

But of course, it wasn’t a dream. And Ellie’s been avoiding my calls since our argument at the bar Friday, dodging me at every turn. “Eric” hasn’t even shown up for work today.

She’s spooked, which I get. But she’s also pissed at me, which I don’t get. I’m one hundred percent in her corner on this. Can’t she see that I’m only trying to protect her?

Though I know it’s probably futile, I pick up my phone and send Ellie yet another text. You okay?

She doesn’t respond, so I try again. I’m sorry this is happening. I don’t know what the right thing is here, El, but I’m confident we’ll figure it out together. I need you to trust me on this. Please?

Still nothing. Damn it. I know I didn’t handle things all that well the other night, but she’s got to know she can count on me. With this or anything else.

Can we meet for lunch today? I try. Talk this out?

I wait ten more minutes, but my phone is dead silent.

My email? Well, that’s another story. Two more from Blair, less than a minute apart.

Subject: WHERE ARE YOU??

And finally, the one that obliterates the last of my hope—

Subject: Confirmed—meeting with legal

She’s not letting this go. In fact, it seems she’s prepared to double down on the whole bullshit harassment story, all to get Eric out of the way.

I’ve known from the start that Blair didn’t like that I hired Eric without her input, and sure, maybe the two of them butted heads a few times.

But why would Blair do something so extreme?

I’m about to pick up the phone and call her and Ellie on a conference call so we can put an end to this charade once and for all.

But then Hannah buzzes me on the intercom.

“Ian is on line one for you,” she announces. “He says you’re not answering your cell. Everything okay?”

“Not especially,” I say, more to myself than Hannah.

“Should I take a message?”

“No, put him through.”

I’ve dodged Ian—and this entire situation—long enough. I need to give him a heads up about Blair, let him know I’m on top of it before he hears it from someone else and blows this whole thing out of proportion.

“Hey, Ian.” I force a smile, hoping my bullshit cheer shines through to the other end of the line.

“Care to explain why the hell Blair Keneally called me this morning, threatening to sue?”

So much for cheer.

I drop my head into my hand. “I was hoping to tell you about it myself. I’m still gathering all the pertinent info.”

“Dude, she told me your new broker-boy flashed his junk, and you didn’t even believe her. Newsflash, Jack. When women come forward like this, we fucking believe them.”

“Goes without saying.” In fact, if Blair had accused any other guy in this office—any actual guy—I’d have believed her first, and asked questions later. But Blair isn’t a woman coming forward. She’s a woman trying to sabotage another woman for reasons I’ve yet to uncover.

“Then what did you say to get her all riled up?” Ian asks.

“Just that she was making serious allegations, and as such, we needed to follow the appropriate protocol, which doesn’t include firing someone without an investigation.”

“Screw protocol. We can’t have this kind of shit going on in our company, Jack. No way.”

“But Eric doesn’t even have—” A dick, I almost say, but catch myself just in time. “He doesn’t have access to her office.”

Not to mention the fact that at the time of the alleged exposure, “Eric” was busy getting soaped up in my shower after a rowdy after-work romp that may or may not have involved maple syrup.

“Clearly, he does,” Ian says.

“I’m telling you, Ian. She’s lying.”

Ian lets out a frustrated breath. “Why the fuck would she do that?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”

“Jesus, Jack.” Ian hesitates; I can almost hear the damn wheels turning in his head. Then he says, “All right. Suspend the guy, pending investigation. That’s protocol. Then let legal do their thing. If the allegations are true, he’s out on his ass. Probably even facing charges.” Ian sighs. “Look. I know I’ve been reluctant to admit we’ve got problems in the office, but sexual harassment? That’s a zero-tolerance offense in my book.”

“We’re in agreement there.”

“What’s this Webb guy’s deal, anyway?” Ian asks. “Blair says you vouched for him. Brought him in outside the usual channels.”

Technically Ian brought “him” in the day he volunteered me to keep an eye on his sister, but no need to split hairs.

“Eric is not the bad guy here,” I say, keeping my voice measured. “Blair is up to something. I just need time to prove it.”

“Blair has been an excellent employee from the start. Opportunistic, sure. A little on the manipulative side. But I can’t see her lying about something like this.”

“You’ve been gone a while.”

“Three weeks is hardly a while, Jack.”

I shake my head. Isn’t it, though?

Three weeks ago, Ellie was my best friend’s little sister. A woman I crushed on from a distance, then did my best to avoid.

But somehow, between her first interview in that horrid fake ’stache and now, I got swept up in her irresistible tide. I let my guard down.

I fell in love with her.

The realization hits me all at once, a sucker punch to the gut that nearly knocks the wind out of me.

I’m in love with Ellie Seyfried. With the sound of her laugh. With the way she closes her eyes and hums when she drinks strong coffee. With her singular devotion to cheese. With the way her brain works when she’s figuring out a tough research problem and the way she feels in my arms when I hold her close and the way she makes me want to be a better man.

For her.

Because a woman with Ellie’s heart and integrity and bone-deep commitment to making the world a kinder place deserves the best. I love watching her break through her own boundaries, and love standing beside her while she stands up for what she believes in.

Who she is, who she’s still becoming—they both inspire the hell out of me. I want in with Ellie, one hundred percent. I want to be there for every step of the adventure, no matter how hard things get. Now. Tomorrow. Always.

But thanks to my epic fumble Friday night, I’m not sure I’ll get that chance.

“I still don’t see Blair’s angle,” Ian says, dragging me back to craptastic reality. “Odds are she’s telling the truth. Women don’t usually lie about this shit.”

“Well, this one is,” I say. After spending the better part of three weeks between Ellie’s thighs, or anticipating the next time I’d be between her thighs, or dreaming about the last time I’d been between her thighs, I’m pretty fucking certain “Eric Webb” is biologically incapable of exposing a dick to Blair or anyone else.

Not that I’m suicidal enough to share that tidbit with Ian.

“I don’t have time for this,” Ian continues. “Rictor and I are this close to locking down the Justin Cruise account, and word is he’s got a couple of other guys from the team interested in what we have to say.”

“I know it’s bad timing—”

“Bad timing? No. Bad timing is when you come home a day early for spring break and walk in on your Dad banging his girlfriend on your favorite Star Wars sheets.”

“Dude.” I crack a smile, despite my dour mood. Ian’s crazy. I love him like a brother, but hell, that boy needs some serious help. “Have you ever considered therapy? Just throwing it out there.”

“This isn’t funny, dickhead. A lawsuit will bring our whole operation down. And if she brings this to the media? It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. We’ll be crucified.”

He’s got me there. But of course, I know it won’t go that far.

Everything in me is screaming to tell him the truth—all of it. Ellie’s his sister, I’m his best friend and business partner, we all want what’s best for S&H.

And we all want what’s best for Ellie.

He’ll understand, right? Eventually?

I take a breath, open my mouth to confess. But…

No. I can’t do that to Ellie. I promised I’d keep this secret. Telling Ian now would mean betraying the woman I love, and I can’t do that. Not even to save my own ass from Ian’s wrath—or the media’s.

“I’m handling it,” I say. “Focus on the Cruise stuff, and by the time you’re back on the East Coast, this mess will be a distant memory.”

I hang up with Ian, my gut tied in knots. Blair’s email trigger-finger seems to have calmed down for the moment, but there’s a new one from a member of my senior legal staff.

---

This is bad. Really bad.

My job is on the line, my reputation, my relationship with Ian and every last one of my employees—hell, I could lose everything I’ve dreamed about and worked hard for since Ian and I started this place with no more than our MBAs, a little start-up capital, and two big hard-ons for finance.

For so long, it’s been the most important thing in my life.

Most people would say I’m crazy to risk it all for a woman.

But Ellie Seyfried has changed everything for me. She’s what’s most important now. I don’t care how fast it happened, or what Ian thinks about it, or what kind of stunts Blair is ready to pull.

Losing Ellie is simply not an option.

But we’ve only got one choice right now. I just have to make her see that, too.

I pick up the phone and dial Ellie’s cell.

She sends me straight to voice mail.

Damn.

“Ellie, it’s me. Listen. Legal’s involved now, and they’ve set up a meeting for tomorrow morning to interview your entire team. It’s only going to escalate from here. I hate that it’s come down to this, but we’re out of options. We need to come clean. I can break the news, or you can do it yourself, or we can do it together. Your choice, but it has to be done before this meeting tomorrow. We can’t let this nonsense with Blair continue. Please call me back as soon as you get this so we can strategize. I’m really worried about you. I’m… Yeah. Call me back. Please.”

But she doesn’t call back. Not for this voice mail, or the four others I leave throughout the day.

By closing bell, I’m against the ropes—we both are. As much as I hate to move forward on this without her, she’s left me no choice.

This ends now.

I start a new email, cc’ing everyone involved.

Subject: The allegations are false. Eric Webb is not a man.