He shot me a weird look, tearing his eyes from my face and focusing on the building behind me, like he was trying to remember something. “Give me five minutes of your time?” he asked, as he did every single day, five days a week, excluding weekends.

“Nope. Bye, Vicious.” I turned around and slammed the door in his face. Admittedly, it didn’t feel good. It felt really bad the first time I did it, and as time passed, it had become worse and worse. I now absolutely hated myself for doing this to him.

But still, I did it.

Because protecting my heart over his had become my priority.

The problem was, I had been right all along. Loving someone was essentially wanting to make them feel good, and not the other way around.

No matter what Vicious felt for me, I knew exactly how I felt about him.

And I didn’t hate him. Not by a long shot.

It was almost a week later when I received the call. Afterward, I took an early lunch break, jumped into the subway, and bolted straight into Vicious’s office building. The receptionist in the lobby knew me from my brief time as Vic’s PA and let me in. When I walked into the reception area of FHH, however, I was met with a new face of a young receptionist who’d replaced Patty.

I knew Patty had already retired because I kept in touch with her, mainly by email, so this wasn’t news, but I didn’t have time for pleasantries.

“I need to see Mr. Spencer.” I knocked on the reception’s counter with my knuckles, not offering any further explanation. Every hair on my body stood on end and hot shivers ran down the length of my spine. I was that angry.

The receptionist, pretty and bored and disinterested, batted her eyelashes a few times at me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t need an appointment,” I breathed out, flinging my arms in the air. “I’m his…his…” What was I to Vicious, exactly? Friend? No. Lover? Ha! Ex-neighbor? But I was more than that. I shook my head, not really feeling like dwelling on the subject right now. “He’ll want to speak to me. Please, just tell him Emilia is here.”

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid.” Her tone was not in sync with my mental and physical state. She looked so jaded and sleepy, and I felt like a kernel of popcorn about to pop at any moment. “He doesn’t want any interruptions when he’s working.”

“Look…” I leaned over the counter, seriously tempted to grab her by the collar of her white shirt. “I know he’s a jerk, and you’re afraid that he’ll be even more of a jerk to you if you disobey his rules. But I’m telling you. If he finds out I was here and you didn’t let me in, he’ll fire you. Just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “So please, just tell him I’m here, waiting for him.”

She stared at me with a peculiar expression before punching in his extension and bringing the phone to her ear.

“Sir? I have a woman named Emilia here for you. She says it’s important.” She waited a few seconds, muttering a “mmm-hmm” punctuated with a nod, before her head snapped up, her gaze meeting mine.

“He said he doesn’t know any Emilia, but he does know a girl named Help.”

Darn you, Vicious. I rolled my eyes and leaned my elbows against the counter. “Tell him it’s important and that he’s a bastard.”

Her mouth hung open and her light brown eyes stared at me like I’d just tried to recruit her to the SS.

I repeated myself calmly. “Tell him that.”

She did.

And it almost made me forget how angry I was for one second. A faint smile tickled my lips.

A minute later, Vicious pushed his door open and appeared in the hallway in front of his glass wall. It took me less than a second to realize his new receptionist had a serious crush on him. She swallowed hard when her eyes swiped over his body, and then she shot me a hate glare when she saw the look on his face when we locked eyes.

“Missed me?” He offered one of his cocky smirks as I strode toward him.

“Not quite.” I gave him a shove back into his office.

He didn’t put up a fight. If anything, he grinned like an idiot and winked at the receptionist meaningfully while my back was to her as he walked backward. I slammed the door in her face, then pushed him to sit on his office couch and crouched down so that we looked at each other. He was still grinning like I came there for another make-out session.

“Your stepmom fired my parents because I worked for you,” I said evenly.

A frown replaced his smile. “What a bitch.”

I nodded, feeling hot tears welling in my eyes.

“How did she even know?” he asked

That one was easy. I thought about it on the train on my way here.

“My mom mentioned it to her. Look, Vicious, they have nowhere to go. Your stepmom’s their only reference. They’ve lived and worked on your estate for ten years. What do I do? I’d fly to them, but the exhibition…I mean, I could. I would. It’s just…” I shook my head.

Vicious considered my words for a few seconds, looking down at his hands, before shooting me a resolute glare. “I’ll take the next flight to San Diego and sort it out.”

My eyes widened. “Didn’t you say you have something on Thursday?” It was already Tuesday afternoon, and no matter what his plans were, it was a long shot to make it in time for whatever it was he’d wanted to do by then.

He shrugged. “I’ll postpone my plans.”

“What were they?”

“Does it matter?”

I considered his question for a second. Did I have any right to ask him what he was doing? No, seeing as I kept pushing him away, not even giving him the chance to explain himself to me for five minutes.

I shook my head. “Thank you. Can you keep me posted?”

He arched an eyebrow, which I imagined meant “what the fuck do you think?” and strode to his glass desk.

Being back in office reminded me that not long ago, we were different. For a fraction of a second, we were together, and it had felt divine. Not nice. Not safe. Not taken for granted. It was short and beautiful and painfully memorable. Like the tree I was obsessed with.

“Anything else?” He fell into his executive chair and didn’t try begging for more of my time. He pressed a finger to his intercom. “Sue, book me the earliest flight to San Diego and get me my turkey and cranberry sandwich. Also, for fuck’s sake, tell the girl at the reception to stop sending me “Have a Good Day” cards. We all know my days are shitty because this city is a motherfucking downer.”