(Present Day)

San Francisco, California

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ON SUNDAY, I WOKE UP to the sound of loud laughter right outside my window. 

Getting out of bed, I pulled back my curtains and saw Corey sitting at the head of the terrace table with twenty other associates. They were all dressed in T-shirts and jeans as usual, staring at their tablets as they took turns giving presentations.

I picked up my phone to see if he'd sent me his usual Sunday warning, and sure enough, it was at the very top of my inbox.

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SUBJECT: THANKS IN advance.

Thank you in advance for staying out of the kitchen and living room until my company leaves today.

We'll be finished with our meeting at noon.

Also, thank you in advance for returning my black lounge pants that you wore without my permission yesterday.

You're welcome for all the free rides to work,

Corey

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I GROANED AND LOOKED at the time. It was four o clock, and it didn't sound like they were going to end the meeting anytime soon.

I wasn't putting up with this shit anymore, though.

Slipping into a pair of jeans and a tank top, I brushed my teeth and left my bedroom. I headed straight for the kitchen and encountered a brunette who looked about my age.

"Hey," she said, smiling. "I think I've seen you around before. Don't you work in the executive offices at Statham?"

"Yeah."

"Are you here because you're leaving to join Walters, Inc. next year as well?"

“No, I'm just here finalizing some documents for Mr. Walters' A- team.”

“Oh, okay.” She grabbed an apple off the counter and lowered her voice. "While you're working here today, please avoid the coffee and bagels at all costs."

"What's wrong with the coffee?"

"One of the guys made it." She laughed and headed toward the balcony doors. "I'll see you later."

I walked over to the coffeemaker and lifted the pot from its pad. I didn't have to hold it up to my nose to know it was far too strong.

Pouring it down the sink, I opened Corey's drawer of coffee machines and lined them on the counter. I took my time crafting a mix of lattes, hot chocolates, specialty coffees, and teas.  And as I steamed milk and drew flowers on top of the final drinks, I baked a new set of cheese-stuffed breakfast bagels in the oven.

When I finished, I placed the drinks on a tray and carried them out to the terrace.

"I just don't think it's feasible for us to agree to take on a contract like that within our first year, Mr. Walters," one of his associates said as I passed out the drinks one by one.

"I think that we need to—" The speaker's eyes met mine, and he smiled at me. "What's this?"

"It's nothing." Corey glared at me from across the table. "Miss Smith from the executive office is here to show us her barista skills in between handling some work for me. Continue, George."

"Um, okay. Like I was saying, I don't think..."

I didn't hear the rest of what he said. All I could focus on was Corey watching my every move as I returned for more drinks and bagels.

His eyes never left my body, and I hated that my cheeks were flushed red in reaction.

As I set a drink in front of him, he grabbed my wrist and whispered, "Why do you keep insisting on breaking the goddamn rules, Hayley?"

"Because you're an asshole." I snatched my hand away and passed out the last of the hot chocolate.

George slipped me his business card with the words, "Call me" written on the back, and another team member slid me a napkin with the words, "You're hot as fuck. Dinner?" scrawled in blue ink.

"Can I just say that I think it's beyond amazing that Notre Dame is going to be our first account at the new company?" The brunette I'd met in the kitchen clapped her hands in approval. "Mr. Walters, that must be very validating for you."

"Why would that be validating?" he asked.

"Oh, come on!" She smiled. "You don't have to be that modest with us."

"Yeah." George chimed in again. "Getting accepted there at sixteen and finishing a full year of credits in the summer before dropping out because it wasn't challenging enough? No wonder Statham made you his chief of cybersecurity."

"Since when did you go to Notre Dame?" I asked, looking at Corey. "I thought—"

"Harvard, right?" George smiled as he sipped his latte. "That's a natural assumption, and it trips me up, too. Jonathan Statham and most of the developers dropped out of Harvard.  Our leader, however, is the different one as always. Unless he hacked his way into their system and made all of this up."

Everyone around the table laughed, and I realized the look Corey was giving me was damn near glacial.

"Hope you all enjoy the drinks and bagels," I said before stepping away and returning to the kitchen.

I pulled out my phone to look up Corey's company bio. I knew my brother had gone to extreme lengths to change his personal records so no one would be able to use our parents colored past in a smear campaign, but Corey? I couldn't imagine him doing the same.

I clicked on his sexy suited picture and read:

Corey Walters was born to two beloved school teachers in Ohio. At a young age, they recognized his aptitude for higher level math and science and enrolled him in evening classes at the local community college while he was still in high school.

At the age of sixteen, Walters became one of the youngest students ever to be accepted into Notre Dame's elite engineering school. After earning stellar marks and pursuing his undergraduate education for only one year, he dropped out to become one of the founding contributors to America's number one tech company: Statham Industries.

I reread those words a few more times, combing my way through the most obvious of lies. I opened my inbox to send him a text about this, but he suddenly snatched my phone and grabbed my wrist—pulling me down the hall and into his bedroom.

"What the fuck was that?" He glared at me, dropping my hand. “I told you to never bother my team members when they come over here."

"Making drinkable coffee and edible bagels means I'm bothering you?"

"You being somewhere you're not supposed to be is bothering me." He backed me against the wall. "Especially when you're asking questions that already have answers."

"You mean lies?" I glared right back at him. "You could've at least made that shit more believable. There's no reason for you to lie about the way you grew up."

"Just like there wasn't any reason for you to lie about being in business school when you were playing around in a fucking coffee shop."

"It was a coffee and wine bar."

"It was a goddamn lie."

"I didn't know you cared so much."

“I don't,” he said, closing the gap between us. “But what I do care about are the rules. So, if you're going to stay here, in my house where I never even wanted you, you need to—”

"Stay the hell out of your way, right?" I was tempted to slap him. "Beg you not to leave me behind in the morning when you go to work, and deal with you ignoring me the whole way there and back?"

"Keep your voice down."

"Fuck you!" I hated that he could slide under my skin so easily. "Fuck. You. Corey."

He clenched his jaw, but he didn't speak. 

"You said you wanted to try being friends again in that email, and you've been nothing but an asshole who takes pleasure in finding new ways to be cruel to me." I walked over to the door and opened it. "I have my sleeping meds now, and I'd rather spend my off-hours around people who don't treat me like shit. I don't have to be here anymore. I'm out."

I slammed the door before he could get a word out and headed to the kitchen. I unplugged his latte maker and carried it to my room. It was coming with me.

Ignoring the laughter and conversation from his team, I grabbed the few toiletries I'd placed in the bathroom and stuffed them into my suitcase.

I sent Kelly a quick "please call me when you can" text and rolled the first of my suitcases to the living room. My hand was on the second one when Corey stepped into my room and blocked the door.

"Get the hell out of my way, Corey," I said.  "I need to leave."

He didn't move.

"Don't make me scream, Corey." I stepped close to him. "You know damn well I will."

He still didn't move.

"I'm giving you ten seconds, and then—” My sentence ended on his lips, and I dropped the handle of my suitcase in shock.

Pushing me back against a mirror, he kept his mouth attached to mine and gripped my waist. Kissing me harder, he owned my mouth with his, not giving me a chance to think about control.

I wanted to deny how good his kiss felt, to push him away, but I couldn’t.

Groaning, he slipped his tongue deeper into my mouth and pinned me against the glass with his hips.

My fingers fisted his hair, and I murmured when I felt his cock hardening through his pants. I shut my eyes as he bit my bottom lip, and he quickly tore away from me. 

I gasped at the sudden loss of contact and struggled to catch my breath.

He stared at me for what felt like forever, his green gaze far softer than it was earlier. I could tell he was just as confused as I was, but he didn't speak.

"Are you going to blame me for that too?" I asked. "Is ‘no kissing’ one of the broken rules that bothers you?"

He said nothing.

"Well, thank you for letting me live here over the past few weeks even though you didn't want to." I bent down and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. It was—"

"Stay."  He interrupted me.

"What?"

"I want you to stay." He pulled the suitcase from my grip and pushed it to the floor. "And I want you to accept my apology."

"You haven't apologized."

"I will," he said, stepping closer. "Stay."

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not going to let you treat me any kind of way. Don't you have a meeting to get back to?"

"I'm going to put them out once I'm done with you." He pressed his forehead against mine, looking deep into my eyes. "Stay, Hayley."

My heart raced a familiar rhythm from years ago as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Just until Kelly gets to San Fran," I said. "Like it's supposed to be."

"Yes," he whispered against my mouth. "Like it's supposed to be..."

I stepped back, but he pulled me against his chest and pressed one last kiss on my lips. "We need to talk right after I tell them to leave. "

"Okay." I could barely hear my voice.

He let me go and picked up the latte maker, carrying it with him. Then he opened the door and picked up the suitcase I'd placed in the living room—setting it against the wall.

"Hayley?" he said.

"Yes?"

"I think I used the wrong word a few minutes ago."

"I'm sure." I crossed my arms, waiting for him to return to being rude. "Let me guess, you changed your mind, and you don't want me to stay?"

"No." He looked genuine. "I need you to stay."