I’ve never been so impatient for an elevator in my life. And it’s not even my company at stake. I tap my foot against the glossy floor in the Carlisle building’s lobby as the numbers slowly creep down.

“Can we just take the stairs?” I ask.

“It’s twenty floors up,” Max replies.

“OK, maybe not.”

Finally, the elevator door slides open and we pile inside.

“Thank you for coming with me for this,” Max says quietly, catching my eye in the cramped space. “You were with me every step of the way before.”

The words send a pang through my heart. “Yeah,” I say. “I was.”

Before he believed the worst in me, without even letting me explain.

He looks like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Look, I know maybe I can’t take back what I did. I’ll understand if you’re really done with me after this. But just know I’m sorry, and that I want nothing but the best for you.”

My heart aches, and I almost want to throw myself into those muscular arms. But then the elevator glides to a stop at the top floor, and there’s no time for misguided making out. “This way.” Max grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway to a pair of double doors. He throws them open, revealing a massive boardroom—and a whole table full of people.

Who are now staring at us.

“What the hell are you doing?” Artie blusters, at the head of the table.

I gulp. It’s like a Carlisle family reunion in here. Cordelia, Parker, and Brad are sitting beside Artie, looking peeved. There’s a line of strangers, clearly confused, and on the other side of the table is Franklin Carlisle himself. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes gleam with curiosity.

Ernest Hammersmith catches my eye and gives a little wave. The eleven other figures just gape at us.

“Have you voted yet?” Max demands.

“You can’t just barge in here like this,” Artie splutters. “You don’t have enough shares for voting rights. Get out.”

“No,” Max says firmly. He steps up to the table. “Did. You. Take. The. Vote?”

“We were just about to when you walked in,” Ernest pipes up. “But I’ve got to say this is an interesting turn of events. Perhaps we should hear what the young man has to say before we do anything hasty.”

A murmur of agreement passes around the table. Artie’s face shifts from white to red. “Now look here—”

“Arthur Augustus Franklin Junior,” Franklin says, in a voice that makes everyone fall silent. “Quiet.”

Artie’s mouth presses into a flat line. With a glare at Max, he sinks into his seat.

Max approaches the table. His face is determined, and there’s a fierce light in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Damn if it doesn’t make him even hotter. But it’s not his good looks that are going to convince the board not to take the easy way out.

“Carlisle Publishing has been around for nearly two hundred years,” he begins, looking at each of the board members in turn. “That’s a hell of a legacy. It’s a heavy legacy, in some ways. I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to run away from it, chasing adventure instead of thinking about my responsibilities. Then three weeks ago my grandfather sent us on a scavenger hunt through the company’s history. At first, I wasn’t sure I was even going to stay in the running. But the farther I went, the more I realized how much this company matters. How much it matters to me.

“I learned a lot of things on that trip around the country. To recognize a good thing when it’s right in front of me.” He looks at me. “That great things come out of working as a team. And that there are people and places worth sticking around for and dedicating yourself to.”

Oh boy. Seeing him like this, it’s hard not melt into a puddle of sentimental goo. Despite all my best intentions, I can’t deny it anymore: I’m in love with him.

Hopelessly, ridiculously in love.

Max looks around the table again. “Carlisle Publishing is one of those places. I don’t want to lose the legacy we’ve built. I want to build it bigger, better, to meet the challenges ahead of us. I’ve seen how this business works from the ground level. I’ve been the one out there in the field, finding the stories that get printed and run around the world. I know I can take us even farther if you give me the chance.”

He pauses. “So that’s what I’m asking. For the chance to prove how much I care about this company. A chance to see how much we can build together.” His gaze slides to me for just a second, and I can’t help wondering if he’s talking about more than just the business. “If I disappoint you, you can still sell in a year, or two, or whenever you feel it’s time. But I don’t think I will. I think we’ll build something truly great together.”

He steps back, and the room is silent. Even Artie looks stunned. He starts to open his mouth—but Ernest beats him to it.

“Hear, hear!” the gallery curator says. “Now that’s more like it. I motion to install Max Carlisle as CEO and delay any sale offers pending the company’s performance.”

“Wait a minute!” Artie bursts out, but the murmurs rising around the table drown him out.

“Vote!” Ernest calls out. “All in favor of the motion?”

He holds up his hand. Other hands lift all around the table. All of them, in fact, except for Artie, Cordelia, Parker, and Brad. Even Franklin raises his hand. Artie shoots him a dirty look.

“You don’t have any voting shares left.”

His grandfather beams back at him. “I can still throw in my support.”

“More than fifty percent in favor,” Ernest announces. “The motion passes!”

He gets up out of his seat to shake Max’s hand. If I thought Max had been lit up before, now he’s absolutely glowing. The other board members crowd around. They only part when Franklin approaches.

“Max, my boy.” Franklin sounds choked up. “Look at the man you’ve become. You kept me waiting long enough.”

“Gramps.” Max looks a little emotional, too. “I’m going to make you proud. I swear it.”

“After today, I know you will,” Franklin says. Then he leans in with a mischievous grin. “You know, this treasure hunt was only for my shares in the company. The rest of my estate is still up for grabs…”

There’s a beat, and then Max laughs. “I’ll be just fine,” he says, slapping his grandfather’s back.

“I know you will be, but one day you might be happy to be my heir. When you have a family of your own…” Franklin gives me a meaningful look, and Max tenses.

“I should go talk to the others,” he says, and quickly walks away.

Watching the congratulations, a lump rises in my throat. This is Max’s moment. And I don’t belong here. I’m not a Carlisle, and I never was. Our relationship was only just pretend.

I slip out of the room and hurry to the elevators. Funny how every time I’m heading down on one of these elegant cars, I find myself close to tears. But this time, I can’t hold them back.

It’s over.

And now I have to figure out what the future holds for me.