I came back from the lunch feeling confused and a little hurt. Last night had happened so recently that I wasn't sure exactly what to expect today, but this wasn't it. Sam was cold to me right from the start this morning, and it seemed clear to me that he viewed everything that had happened last night as some sort of mistake.

And who was I to say that he wasn't right? The lovemaking itself was…just wonderful. But rekindling old flames like that isn't a simple thing that can happen in a vacuum- even I knew this. Long-buried emotions were now, whether either of us wanted it or not, getting dredged up to the surface. For my own part, I found myself going back and forth wondering if Sam had truly changed. On the surface, everything about him seemed different: he was more mature, he had a career to be proud of, and his experience with fatherhood seemed to have brought something out of him that I didn't even know was there.

His behavior today, however, was making me rethink this assessment. Sam had always been one to keep his emotions buried deep, to cover any of the messier, more exposed aspects of caring for someone with a thick layer of cheer and a party animal spirit. He'd ditched the party-guy traits, sure, but now he was simply doing the same things he'd always done, but with the cool veneer of a calculating businessman.

I knew it was the same Sam, just a different flavor.

And if this trait remained, who knew what else was lurking just below the surface? What if he was one temptation away from throwing his career away in pursuit of the good times that he'd supposedly put behind him? What if he was still that same cad, that same flirt, that same lover of women's attentions who'd never been able to say no to a pretty face? I wanted to believe that he'd changed, but there was simply no way to know.

The buzzing of my phone knocked me out of my reverie and right back into reality. I realized that every moment I spent wondering about Sam was a moment that I should've been dedicating to work. Sam had standing, but I was the new girl; I had everything to prove, and couldn't afford to let my mind wander into the field to sit around pulling flower petals and contemplating the matter of "he loves me, he loves me not." I was a professional woman, and at that moment I resolved to act like it.

Snatching the phone from my desk, I saw that it was an incoming message from a number that I didn't recognize.

• Charmed to meet you : ) This is Richard, by the by.

I was confused at first, but soon realized that this wasn't Richard Langford Senior, but Junior. I had a little chuckle at imagining that dignified, composed older man sending emoticon-laden texts.

• The pleasure was all mine. Looking forward to working with you.

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't get a bad feeling from Junior. Aside from being fairly boorish –I didn't care for him ordering for me one bit- he seemed to be one of those types who had an edge lurking just below the surface of forced gregariousness.

The phone buzzed again, and I put those thoughts aside.

• Glad to hear that : ) I could actually use you for something tonight.

This is an…odd development, I thought. I wonder if Sam would be OK with this?

• Sure, but I believed I'm attached to Sam's hip at the moment.

The response came before I could even lower my hand.

• No bother about all that. Sam's a big boy; he'll make do. I'm sending you my address. I'll have a car pick you up at around eight.

I realized that I had less say in the matter than I thought I did. Another text came soon after, this one a Google Maps address of a place just below Central Park. My eyebrows raised at this- I didn't know much about the city, but I knew that anyone staying in this area wasn't exactly hurting for money.

• Sounds good. Looking forward to it.

Another instant response.

• As am I : )

I knew that this was a silly thing to think, but I couldn't help but look down on men who filled their texts with cutesy emojis. Maybe a wink or a thumbs-up here or there, sure, but whenever a man sent smiley faces I couldn't help but picture the sender's face in my mind, wearing that same big goofy grin. And in this case, picturing Junior's pudgy face in a dopey, moonstruck expression wasn't hard in the slightest.

I sat down at my desk, opening my laptop and preparing to go over the remainder of my work for the day. So far, it was simply a matter of confirming appointments and doing research on potential firms to work with in the city. But as I went over the information, I couldn't help but think about the whole Sam situation. It didn't matter how many times I scolded myself for doing so, I couldn't help it. Sam had worked his way into my heart, and all of the self-talk in the world wasn't about to dislodge him.

Despite Junior's suggestion that I simply meet with him without telling Sam, I felt that he needed to know, if only so he'd know that I'd be unavailable for work this evening. Strangely, I found myself pacing about in my room before going to talk to him, as if I needed to build up the nerve to have any sort of conversation with him one-on-one. The lunch was mostly a Junior spectacle, and every exchange that Sam and I had before then was glib and cold. I had no reason to think this one would be any different.

I gave the door to the office a rap, and waited for the response.

"Yes?" asked Sam, his tone that of a busy man who didn't wish to be bothered.

"It's me."

A moment passed.

"Come in."

I opened the door, revealing a stately, old-fashioned office. Dark wood dominated the space, and the walls were lined with bookshelves packed with the colorful spines of what looked to be antique books. A lovely tapestry of deep red covered most of the floor, and a large, imposing desk was at the far end of the room, two grand, arched windows behind it that looked out onto the green sweep of the backyard. Sam sat behind it, looking like a natural fit. Even in this simple home office, the sight of him in a room such as this, at a desk such as that, was enough to convey authority. He appeared to be in the middle of going over some documents, and a brief flick of his sapphire eyes in my direction was the only acknowledgment he gave that I walked in.

I cleared my throat before speaking.

"I got a text from Junior," I said, my voice coming out small.

"Oh?"

"Yes," I said. "He said that he wants to meet with me later this evening."

"Does he?" asked Sam. "Well, I suppose you've got a date, then."

He was terse as he'd been the rest of the day.

Just ask him about last night, I thought. Do it. Things are only going to get more awkward and strained unless the topic is brought up. It'll be tough, but it has to be done.

The voice inside me was insistent. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Talking about romantic concerns like that would make me look like a foolish little girl who couldn't get a handle on her feelings. Not to mention the fact that Sam wasn't exactly making himself open to conversation.

"Oh, OK," was all I managed to say.

"And in the future, you needn't bother me in person with such details," he said, his attention fully on his work. "A simple text or an email will do."

"Oh, OK," I repeated.

A pregnant moment passed. I stood there like a dummy, not sure of what to say or do. Finally, Sam looked back up at me.

"If there's nothing else, I've got more than enough work to contend myself with."

"Oh, OK," I said for the third time.

He'd knocked me out of my senses; I was turning into a broken record. Hurrying out of the room, I shut the door behind me. As silly as it sounds, I wanted to cry. Sam had effectively told me to leave him alone, to only talk to him if it was about an absolutely important business matter. After all, if he didn't want me bothering him in person about a meeting, that didn't exactly bode well for casual conversation. As I headed downstairs, I scolded myself for being so weak, for not stopping what happened between Sam and I before it went where it did.

It was far too late for that, I realized. Sex is a bell you can't exactly unring.

Stepping into the kitchen for a bite to eat, I heard the front door open followed by the cheerful clomping of little shoes. Moments later, Grace arrived in the kitchen, her school supplies in hand and a bright smile on her adorable face.

"Well, good afternoon," I said. "How was your day?"

"It was amazing!" she said, beaming. "We went to the Natural History Museum, and…"

She proceeded to tell me all about her day in great detail. As she talked, I made the two of us a couple of sandwiches with a side of sliced vegetables. Grace didn't break her stride as we moved to the outside table and ate. She told me all about each exhibit that she saw, concluding with the dinosaur skeleton displays.

"That's quite the day," I said, popping a bit of carrot into my mouth.

"Yep!" she said. "But what I'm most excited about is going to the museums with you this weekend."

"We'll see how busy I am with work," I said. "But if I can, you bet your little butt I'll be there."

Grace's face formed a silly expression at the word "butt."

"You have to take me," she said. "Papa always says that he's busy with work, so you're going to have to do it."

"I'll do my best," I said with a smile.

We finished up our meals and headed back inside. I didn't have to be at Junior's until later, so I spent the next few hours playing with Grace, taking her for a little stroll around the block and helping her with her schoolwork when we got back. Eventually, the hour arrived. Just like Sam asked, I simply sent him a text when the car arrived.

Very good. Let Grace know I'll be down in a moment.

And that was that. I wasn't sure what to wear, so I'd earlier put on a simple business-casual look of gray slacks and a white blouse, muted flats finishing the look. I grabbed my purse, said goodbye to Grace, and headed out.

The car waiting for me was a sleek, black mini-limo, a well-dressed chauffeur standing by the back door. I slid into the car, noting how luxurious and modern it was.

"Mr. Langford said to help yourself to the wine in the back," said the chauffeur as he started the car and raised the partition.

Wine sounded good after the day I'd had, so I did just that. There was quite the selection of alcohol in the car, and between this and Junior's three-martini lunch, I got the distinct impression that he was a man who loved his spirits. I chose a glass of something sparkly, trying to relax as best I could as I watched the city pass me by.

I had no idea what to expect from this little meeting, and part of me was on edge. Soon, we arrived at a towering building near Central Park, and the chauffeur pulled out in front, came to a stop, and opened the door for me.

"Let the front desk know that you're there for Richard Langford Junior," he said. "Oh, and word to the wise- don't call him Junior."

I noted this curious detail, thanked the chauffeur, and headed inside. The lobby of the building was old-fashioned, with gold everywhere, majestic columns, and a bubbling fountain in the center of the space. Heading to the curved marble front desk, I let the attendant know how I was, and who I was visiting. His eyebrows raised, and he took a close look at me, as if to confirm that I was indeed the one meeting with Junior.

"Very good," he said with an English accent. "Please, take the direct elevator over there up to the penthouse."

He pointed around the corner, somewhere beyond the main bank of elevators. I went to where he pointed and found a private hallway with a single elevator at the end, a red velvet rope in front of it. A nearby employee confirmed my name and undid the rope, giving me access to the elevator.

"Just press ‘up'," he said. "It only goes to the penthouse."

Penthouse? I thought. I knew the Langfords had money, but I didn't know it was "Central Park penthouse" cash. My mind racing, I stepped into the sleek interior of the elevator and pressed the "up" button. The doors closed and the elevator raced upwards at a smooth, speedy pace. Soon, it came to a stop, and with a "ding," the doors opened.

I wasn't prepared for what I saw next.

The penthouse of the building was easily the most luxurious, amazing apartment that I'd ever seen. And as I raced through my thoughts, I realized that might just include ones I've seen on TV. It was a wide, open space, enough distance that I'd take more than a few minutes to cross from one end to the other. The place was appointed with antique luxury furniture from a long-passed century, and gorgeous art decorated the walls. A massive fireplace that I could likely step inside was framed in gold and roaring with a massive fire. And the view was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Central Park, the long, green, rectangular form perfectly centered in the view. From where I stood, I could easily see as far as Connecticut. The sun was nearly set, and the sky was brilliant with swirling oranges and blues, the evening sky's black peeking through the top.

And standing at the with his back towards me, was Junior. It was strange- as he stood there looking over the city with his hands clasped behind his back, all I could think was that he knew I was coming, and that he purposefully posed himself in a manner that would make him look the most impressive. Once I stepped in, he turned to face me.

"There she is!" he said, unclasping his hands and bounding towards me like a big, eager dog. "Been looking forward to seeing you."

Once he reached me –which took some time, given the size of the apartment- he took my hand just as he'd done earlier today and placed a kiss on it with those big, plump lips of his.

"Enchante," he said, speaking in a gaudy French accent. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"This place is…um, amazing," I said, feeling that "amazing" wasn't even close to the word I was looking for.

"Why, thank you," he said. "Please, have a seat."

I wasn't sure which among the many, many places to sit I was expected to take. I chose one of the two large couches in the center of the room.

"Something to drink?" Junior asked.

"Hmm," I said.

The bubbly from the ride over had started to go to my head just a bit, and a little more wine certainly sounded nice.

"Sure," I said. "Something with bubbles sounds good."

A smile appeared on Junior's face, as though that was just the answer he was hoping to hear.

"In a bit of a…celebratory mood?" he asked, heading behind the bar and sorting through the wine racks on display.

"Not really," I said with a smile. "I just like the fizzy stuff."

"Good enough for me," he said, removing a fancy-looking bottle from the bar fridge and popping it open.

Moments later, he returned to me, a glass of foaming, amber-colored wine in each hand. He gave me one of the glasses and extended his for a cheers.

"To what should we toast?" he asked.

"Um," I said, not sure how to respond. "How about to incredible views?"

"To incredible views," he said.

His eyes flicked over my dress, and I got the impression that he wasn't referring to just the view from out of his apartment. But I quickly tossed this thought aside as we touched the rims of our glasses.

Junior took a seat on the couch near me.

"So," he said. "How are you finding the city?"

"It's wonderful," I said. "So different than London."

"Indeed," he said. "I so wish London would embrace the, ah, vertical sensibilities of New York; I'd love to have a place like this in my humble hometown."

My eyes scanned the apartment once again. I still hadn't quite gotten over the luxury and, well, money on display.

"I know I already said it, but this place is really something else."

"I never get tired of hearing it," he said. "This was a gift from my father when I graduated with my business degree. I got my masters from NYU and never really wanted to leave the city. My father prefers his humble little townhome in the Village, but I prefer the grandeur of a place such as this."

Geez, I thought. Hell of a graduation present.

"My parents bought me a new MacBook when I graduated," I said.

"Well," he said. "Not all of us are fortunate enough to live in such circumstances, I suppose."

You're right about that, I thought.

At that moment it dawned on me that I was still unsure of why, exactly, Junior had decided to invite me over. Was this a simple getting-to-know-you from the boss's son?

"Well," I said, "thank you for the invitation, but I'm curious as to what our plans for the evening are."

A sly little smile, almost a scheming one, formed on Junior's puffy lips.

"All will be clear in time," he said. "For now, just relax and enjoy the wine."

"That I can do," I said, taking another sip.

A moment or two hung in the air, and after a time Junior spoke again.

"You know, my father has been with the company since its founding," said Junior.

"I figured," I said. "What with his name being on the building."

"Quite," said Junior. "But he's not going to be around forever."

I was curious where, exactly, he was going with this.

"And when my father passes, the question will certainly be just who is going take his place as CEO of the company. Naturally, as his son, and someone who has been with Langford Holdings for nearly as long as him, that responsibility is likely to fall on my shoulders."

"Then you'd be the boss," I said, following him along.

"That's right," he said with a prim little smile. "Langford Holdings would be mine, to do with as I wish."

"And what might that be?" I asked.

"Who knows?" he said shrugging his shoulders. "It's a very profitable little company, but it just might fetch a tidy little sum if I were to sell it to one of the larger organizations. Regardless of what happens, it will be my decision. When I'm in charge, that is."

Very certain of himself, I thought.

"And you're definitely going to be put in charge?" I asked.

"It's all but official, I'm sure. I can't imagine my father turning over the reins of the company to anyone but his son. And I would easily be the best man for the job."

"That all sounds…great," I said.

"Indeed."

Junior polished off his glass of wine before getting up and refilling his. He brought the bottle over to me, topping off my glass nearly to the rim.

"Can't let an expensive bottle like this go to waste," he said with another one of those prim smiles.

"I guess not," I said.

"Anyway," he continued. "The point of my telling you this is to let you know that any employee of Langford who…gets on my good side, let's say, will find themselves in a most amenable position once the company is in my hands. I'm a man who rewards loyalty, not to mention the ability to see the writing on the wall. And, of course, the inverse is true; anyone who seems to have been eyeing my new position of leadership, thinking that maybe, just maybe, my father had them in mind to lead the company, or at least to rise higher in the ranks after his passing, will likewise be…rewarded."

All of this that Junior was saying struck me the wrong way. It seemed a little bit in poor taste to be discussing his father as though he were on his deathbed. And it seemed even more strange that he's apparently compiled a list of those who've gotten on his bad side that he's going to exact revenge upon if he were to become CEO. And I still wasn't clear on where I fit into all of this.

"But enough talk," he said, standing up. "I hope you're hungry; dinner is about ready."

I looked around, but couldn't spot any sign of food.

"Are we going out?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking," said Junior.

Junior gestured for me to follow him. I got up, bringing my wine, and followed him around a long corner which led to a small stairwell that went up. A little grin on his face, Junior pressed a button near the stairwell, a ceiling door opening up moments later exposing the evening sky. He went up the stairs and I followed him, unsure of what to expect. When I arrived at the top of the stairs, I couldn't help but let out a gasp.

The view from the apartment was incredible, but what I saw at the top of the stairs was something else. The roof of the building was essentially Junior's private balcony and afforded a grand, three-hundred-and-sixty view of the entire city. Orange and white lights spread out around us in all directions, the stars twinkling above.

And in the center of the rooftop balcony was a small table covered with a white tablecloth, set for two.

"I thought a little rooftop dining might be in order," he said.

"This is…incredible," I said, walking to the railing the ran along the border of the roof and looking off.

"I think this very well might be the finest view in the city," he said. "And it's all mine. Only those I wish are able to share it with me."

I suppose that's one way of looking at it, I thought.

"But come," he said. "Let's eat."

We sat down at the table, and Junior removed the silver plate coverings, revealing two delicious-looking Cornish game hens. There was a side of vegetables, and a small salad completed the dish. And in the center of the table was a bottle of red wine, though I'd begun to feel that I'd reached my limit for alcohol at the moment. This didn't dissuade Junior, however, and he didn't waste any time popping open the bottle and pouring two glasses full.

"Bon appetite," he said in that same cheesy French accent.

I dug into my food, and it was probably one of the best meals I'd ever had. The dishes weren't anything crazy, but something about the way the food was prepared just gave it a little something special. I had to watch myself to not simply drop the utensils and gorge on the bird in front of me.

"Liking the food?" he asked. "I have a two-Michelin-starred chef in the city at my beck and call. He'll drop whatever he's doing to whip something special up for me."

"It's great," I said, noting just how comfortable Junior was with bragging about all the luxuries his money afforded him.

We continued the meal, and as we ate a very one-sided conversation ensued. Junior went on and on about his accomplishments at Langford, talking extensively about how that place simply wouldn't be able to run without him. He'd occasionally throw the ball to me, asking me some detail about myself. But as soon as I'd answer it, Junior wouldn't waste any time in bringing the conversation right back over to himself, using whatever I'd said as a springboard to let me know about one time or another everyone was counting on him to do something at work, and he performed beyond their wildest expectations, of course, leaving everyone just so darned impressed with him. I couldn't help but wonder how strange it was that someone as wealthy and powerful as him would find it necessary to talk himself up so much.

By the time we'd finished the main course and the rosewater sorbet that followed, I was full- from the meal and Junior both. And I still wasn't exactly clear on why he'd invited just me here. After all, Sam was in the city as well.

"Listen," I said. "This has been a lovely evening, but I really think I should be getting back to my place sooner than later. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow."

A quizzical little expression formed on Junior's face, something between confusion and frustration. But it only lasted a moment before being replaced by that same smile that he'd worn seemingly throughout the entire evening.

"I see," he said. "Well, at least join me for one more glass of wine. After all, you don't get to see a view like this every day."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me, as he assented to my departure. It was strange- it almost felt as though this were anything but the pleasant dinner Junior was making it out to be. And he was right; this was a view that I should take in just a little bit more.

Junior poured a little more wine and led me to the railing. Handing me a glass, he took another long look over me.

"You really are a lovely young woman," he said. "Not the sort of person I'd expect to work at our humble little office."

This struck me as an odd thing to say, but I went with it.

"Oh?" I asked. "And what sort of person does work at your place?"

"We've some lookers, but you…you're something special. You could be on magazine covers with a face like that. And what's more, I could make that happen for you."

My eyebrows flicked up.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, as you can tell by, well, everything, I'm the sort of man who has a lot of pull. Things I want can simply happen, you see. A phone call here, an email there –all to the men and women I have influence with- and that sort of life a young woman like you would dream of could be yours."

I didn't know what to say. Why was he telling me this?

"That's…impressive," I said.

Junior shook his head.

"You're still not getting it," he said. "You see, Mary, you're the precise type of woman that a man like me ought to have. You're beautiful, you're charming, and you're going to be going places, whether as part of Langford or not. And I'm just the sort of man you're going to want to have in your corner- the type of person who could really make things happen for you."

Wait a minute, I thought. Is he really saying what I think he's saying? Is he really suggesting that I…date him?

"That's flattering," I said, trying to put just a little distance between the two of us, in more ways than one. "But I think I'm happy on my own for now."

His expression tightened.

"You really need to be able to spot a good opportunity when it sits itself right in front of you," said Junior. "This would be a wonderful little arrangement for the two of us. I would have a lovely companion, the sort of person a man like me should have at his side, and you could have all the career advancement you could want. And all you'd have to do is…well, I think that goes without saying."

Fear began to grip me. I wanted to get away from this place right at that moment.

"Listen, Junior-"

The word slipped out of my mouth, and the consequences were immediate.

"Don't ever call me that," he said, his tone hard and his eyes narrowed. "I'm more than simply my father's son, and you'll do well to take that into consideration when addressing me."

I didn't know what to say. This flash of anger took me totally by surprise. But I tried to keep things calm.

"Listen, Richard," I said. "This is, um, a very kind offer, but I think it's something that I'm going to need more time to think about. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my place; this has been a lovely evening, but I need to get some rest for tomorrow."

His expression softened a bit.

"Very well," he said. "Do all the thinking you'd like. But keep in mind that just as having someone like me on your side could benefit you in ways you can't imagine, so true is the inverse. I'm the kind of man on whose bad side you'd be advised to stay off of. That is, if you want to have any sort of future at Langford."

"I…understand," I said.

"Good," he said. "I'll call for your ride; meet him outside, and please see yourself out."

It was clear he wanted to stay here and brood, and I was more than happy to let him. I hurried out of the apartment, grabbing my things in a rush and breathing a sigh of relief once I was in the elevator. The car was waiting for me, though part of me just wanted to call a cab. On the ride back, my mind raced with what had just happened.

Between Junior's proposition and Sam's coldness, I felt more alone and lost than ever. I didn't know what to do.