I come out into my office and for the first time in months, Hazel isn’t there.

I frown a little and sit. I wait a few minutes, assuming she’s simply running late for once, but she doesn’t show.

I glance at my watch. Impatient, I call Rogers.

“She’s not here yet, sir,” Rogers says, sounding concerned.

“Has she ever been late before?” I ask him.

“Never, sir.”

“So this is unlike her.”

“Yes, sir. I believe it is.”

“Would she call?”

He hesitates. “I don’t think she has a number to call, sir. You always want to keep things, ah, private.”

Shit. “Very well. Keep me informed, and please bring in my coffee.”

“Good, sir. One other thing.”

“Yes?”

“It’s Declan, sir. He’s here, wishes to talk about something.”

“What about?” I grumble, not ready to face that slime so early.

“I don’t know, sir, but he seems to think it’s important.”

“Send him in. Make him bring the coffee.”

I smile to myself and hang up the phone. A few minutes later, Declan comes in carrying the try and looking angry as hell.

“Good morning, Declan,” I say to him.

He glares at me. “Your coffee, Mason.”

“Thanks.” He places the tray down on my desk and sits in a chair.

“You know, you don’t have to embarrass me,” he says. “We’re on the same side.”

“We are?” I pour my coffee and frown. “I thought I was on the side of building this company, and you were on the side of stealing from it.”

He gapes at me. “Stealing?”

“You are funneling funds from the company into private, off-shore banks, are you not?”

“Wh-what?” he stutters. “Absolutely not.”

“Of course not.” I smile at him sweetly. “What did you want to talk about?”

He stares at me for a second, clearly gathering himself before speaking. “It’s about the girl,” he says finally.

“Which girl?” I ask, knowing damn well which one he means.

“Hazel. Your assistant.”

“What happened?”

He glances away, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “She quit.”

I sit there and stare. “Quit?”

“Called up this morning. I guess my team’s number is still the only number she has.”

“Called this morning,” I echo, mind starting to reel. I came into this meeting holding all the cards, ready to destroy Declan, but this…

I’m off balance. I can feel it. I know this is going to get away from me but I don’t know how to stop that from happening.

Hazel is more important to me than anything else.

“I know you liked her,” Declan is saying distantly. “She seemed like a good worker, but you know how it is. They always leave you in the end.”

I gape at him. They always leave. I think back to my life, to everything I’ve lost.

I think back to Marla. To the baby she was carrying when the plane crashed.

Declan is saying something else as I get up from my chair, something about women being fickle and how sorry he is and how he’ll find a good replacement immediately, a man this time if that will work for me. I walk away from him, mug in my hand, staring out the window.

Hazel is leaving me. I don’t understand why, but then again, I think I do. She got what she needed. She got a house, presents, a fresh start.

And now she’s gone. Quitting.

I sip my coffee. It’s too hot. It burns my tongue.

I throw the mug at the window.

The mug shatters into pieces with a resounding boom. The window vibrates slightly and Declan stares at me, face aghast, eyes wide.

“That will be all,” I say to Declan.

“Mason, let me say—”

“Get the fuck out, Declan, before I treat your skull the way I just treated that mug.” I turn on him, my whole body rippling with anger.

That toad doesn’t need to be told twice. He gets up and scampers away.

I turn to my office. The memory of Hazel lingers in everything I can see. I can taste her on my tongue, feeling her on my lips. I remember spanking her, just over there, fucking her, just right there. We’ve laughed together, felt together, spent hours talking together.

Now she’s gone.

There’s a knock at the door. Rogers comes in, looking concerned. “Are you okay, sir?” he asks.

“Hazel,” I manage. “Declan… he says she quit.”

He frowns. “I can’t imagine—”

“Find her.” I look at Rogers. I’m practically begging the man, but I don’t care. “Find her, Rogers. Bring her back.”

He watches me for a moment, and I see understanding pass through him. “Very well, sir. Consider it done.”

“Thank you.”

He leaves my office. I stumble back to my chair, numbly sitting down. I pour another mug of coffee in the cup that Hazel usually uses. I sip from it, staring blankly at my office.

I can still see the demons. The old dreams. Chasing after a plane I’ll never catch.

Because I’m alive, and she isn’t.

They aren’t.

I clutch my mug. I need Hazel.

But she might be gone, and I might finally be lost for good.