Nate I toweled sweat from the back of my neck as I st epped into my hotel room. The early morning Manhattan skyline stretched outside the window like it was trying too hard to impress me but I barely noticed it. My run through Central Park had been followed by the hotel gym, where I’d punished a treadmill for the crime of existing. The only redeeming feature of my three-day stint in networking purgatory so far had been Colin Thayer. As the Chief Financial Officer of Thayer Steelworks, he was as much a player in this game as I was, so I’d brought him with me to the financial conference. Misery really does love company, after all. On the other hand, he was my brother-in-law now, and I was really starting to like him. We shared the same preferences for whiskey and quiet lounges, and we both possessed the rare skill of letting silence exist without trying to murder it with small talk. Now that Alex was married to Colin’s sister, Jane, we were practically family. And our family wasn’t just wealthy. We were an empire. My older brother, Alex, ran Westwood and Sons, I handled acquisitions strategy, and our younger brothers rotated through the family machine like soldiers in training. Exc ept for Jesse, who was who knows where these days. Probably on a beach with some models, knowing him. After dropping the towel on my bed, I grabbed my work phone from the desk in my room and fired off a text to Colin. If I was going downstairs, I was damn sure doing it with him as a human shield. Me: Back from the gym. Breakfast in an hour? Colin: Already in the lounge. See you then. The response was efficient, exactly the kind of communication that made me trust someone with both multimillion-dollar decisions and whiskey recommendations. I set the phone down just as my personal phone buzzed across the room, still plugged into the charger on the nightstand. The sound was soft and harmless, but at the same time, completely capable of hijacking my central nervous system. My pulse spiked before I even crossed the carpet. It was about the right time of day for— Emma. Her name lit up the screen and something dangerously close to giddiness detonated in my chest. It was ridiculous how four little letters could dismantle years of cultivated emotional restraint just for being arranged in an order that spelled out her name.
I picked up the phone, already smiling like an idiot as I opened the message. Emma: Morning! Are you alive or has your work thing made you sacrifice yourself to the gods of productivity yet? I laughed before I could even think of biting it back. She’d been doing that for five years, making me react before I had time to regulate. A skill bespoke to her and her alone. Me: Still alive, which I’m sure is a disappointment to several of my coworkers and competitors. Emma: Tragic. I’ll alert the authorities to your survival. My heart kicked harder than it had even once during my run this morning. All because tonight was the night. Five years of messages, late-night confessions, and conversations that had crawled under my skin, and it was about to collide with reality. For five whole years, this woman had been my confidante, my friend, and the only person alive who really knew me inside out. And I’d never even seen her face. I’d tried to imagine it hundreds of times over the years, but I’d always failed miserably. Emma existed to me only in words and humor, and yet, she made me feel seen and understood in ways I’d never experienced before. Tonight, I would be meeting her for the first time, and I was already in love with her. The realization wasn’t new, but admitting it even internally? It felt like st epping onto unstable ice. I hadn’t told her yet, but I wanted to. Desperately. God, do I want to. The thought pressed against my ribs with every breath I took, but maybe soon, I would finally be able to do it. As I thought about her, I wondered briefly if this was what Alex felt whenever he talked about his wife, Jane. Did he have this constant hum under his skin and the unsettling combination of calm certainty and absolute terror? Me: Are we still on for tonight? The typing bubble appeared instantly and my stomach tightened like I was twenty-two, making catastrophic life choices again. Emma: I’m getting ready for work, but yes. Definitely still on. Relief flooded through me so fast, it left me lightheaded. One of our longest standing rules was not discussing work. Shortly after we’d met online in the weirdest, silliest way possible, we’d discovered we both loved rules and we’d laid down a few—no real names, no mention of work, and no talk about family. All she knew was that I was in New York for business. She didn’t know about the convention, the panels, or the swarm of finance executives currently populating Midtown like a well-dressed plague. She didn’t know my last name, either.
Emma: Try not to be mysterious and brooding all day. Save some personality for tonight. Me: I make no promises. I stared at the screen after the conversation ended, adrenaline simmering beneath my skin and anticipation sharpening every sense. Tonight, I was finally going to meet her and I had no idea how to pr epare for that, and before I could even get there, I had to make it through one last day of not knowing what her real name was first. It was going to be hell getting through the next twelve hours, but after half a decade, it was a kind of torture I was intimately familiar with. Colin was already waiting near the breakfast buffet when I arrived in the lounge after grabbing a quick shower. He sipped his coffee as I dropped into the seat across from him, totally ignoring the roughly three thousand corporate drones around us. “You’re scowling again,” he said, nodding at me rather than wasting his breath on a greeting. “Has someone pissed you off already?” “No, I’m just thinking.” “About faking an illness?” I shrugged. “It’s always good to have contingency plans.” He huffed out a quiet laugh and went back to his coffee. Bringing him on this trip had been the best decision I’d made in months. He moved through crowds like a shadow, polite, efficient, and allergic to unnecessary conversation. It had been a blast so far. I ordered a coffee of my own and turned back to him. “I’m heading out tonight, so I won’t be around for dinner.” His eyebrows lifted slightly. “If you’re saying it like that, I’m assuming it’s not a meeting.” “Nope. For a change, it’s not business.” He frowned. “You’re going out with someone? For fun?” I hesitated for half a second before I nodded. “Yeah. Someone.” Surprise flickered across his usually neutral expression, his eyes widening as he stared at me like he was wondering if I’d been body- snatched. “A female someone?” “Yeah.” I exhaled slowly. “At least, I’m fairly certain it’s a woman. Technically, it’s possible she’s been lying about that, but I doubt it.” Colin blinked a few times. “You hope it’s a woman? What the hell does that mean? Are you hiring a professional?” “No. Jesus. It’s nothing like that.” I sighed and raked a hand through my hair, finally elaborating when he k ept just looking at me like he was considering having me committed for a seventy-two-hour psych hold. “She’s just a friend, okay? We met online a few years ago and we’ve been talking ever since. She lives here in New York, so when I told her I was coming, we decided to meet up.”
“So, wait. You’ve been talking online for years, but you said you hope she’s a woman. Does that mean you’ve never actually seen her before?” I shrugged. “Nope.” “And you’re finally meeting her tonight.” His eyebrows sw ept up almost to his hairline. “That’s significant.” “That’s one word for it.” “You sound nervous.” I snorted. “Check your ears. I sound fine.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re nervous to meet your pen pal. Well, aren’t you adorable?” “This date has been a long time coming,” I grated. “There won’t be anything adorable about it.” Colin nodded, genuine approval settling onto his expression. “I’m just messing with you. I’m happy for you, man. And I’ll be crossing my fingers that you haven’t been catfished.” I started to respond, but the words died in my throat when I saw her. Satan in female form. She was a mere fifteen feet away, speaking animatedly to Abram Hinds. My stomach dropped with the violent clarity of a market crash at the sight of her with him. Kate Vanderhaul. Her back was to me, but she was unmistakable. Her hair alone was an event, a thick, dark red curtain that hung almost all the way to her waist, cascading down her back in waves that moved when she spoke, bouncing with every emphatic gesture like it had opinions of its own. “Problem?” Colin asked. “Yes,” I said flatly. “Unfortunately, it’s a potentially expensive one too.” Abram laughed at something she said, his shoulders shaking with the kind of relaxed familiarity I’d been hoping to cultivate with him this week. Alex had practically vibrated with joy when Hinds had put out a statement announcing he was “considering all options that will allow me to retire.” We wanted his empire. Badly. I was supposed to be here to schmooze— my least favorite professional obligation—because I was very good at it when forced. Now, I was sharing the spotlight with the human equivalent of a market correction. “Wish me luck,” I muttered. “You don’t need luck,” Colin said. “You need patience.” I shrugged, regrettably having to leave my coffee behind so I could interc ept them. If Kate was making her move, I needed to be there. Especially if he was already laughing with her. She turned just as I reached them, her dark hazel eyes—whiskey- colored and sharp enough to age a man prematurely—locking onto mine. Her expression soured instantly, her frown so vicious I half expected a portal to hell to crack open beneath her heels and drag her home.
She didn’t bother hiding it, but I didn’t pay any attention to her, simply extending my hand toward my target instead. “Mr. Hinds, I’m Nate Westwood.” Abram turned to me, his hand immediately meeting mine for a firm squeeze. “Westwood, huh? I was wondering if I’d see you here.” “I was hoping to run into you as well.” Kate made a small, disapproving noise that could have passed for a cough if she’d possessed any interest in subtlety. Abram chuckled as he glanced between us. “Do you two know each other?” “Unfortunately,” Kate said brightly. “In a professional capacity,” I corrected without giving it a second thought. There was no way I wanted him to think there was anything more to it. “Our paths have crossed before.” Abram gestured toward her. “The Vanderhaul family helped get my business off the ground twenty years ago. I owe them more than a few favors.” The revelation felt like a punch straight in the gut. Fuck, of course. Alex is not going to like that. Kate smiled at him, all polished charm. Up close, she was infuriatingly beautiful. Peach-toned skin that looked professionally taken care of, with no freckles and a flawless texture that suggested a skincare routine so intense, it probably came with a spreadsheet of its very own. Her nails were immaculately done, glossy and an understated, pale pink. Her posture radiated athletic confidence, like she was one of those people who voluntarily woke up before sunrise to run marathons—or in her case, probably to outrun real life demons trying to drag her back to Hell. “I was just telling Abram our family is very interested in acquiring his portfolio,” she said sweetly. My eyes narrowed, but I quickly schooled my features and gave him a mild smile of my own, not wanting to come on too strong straight out of the gate. Not if he had such a long history with her family. “Is that so?” “Yes,” she said, her eyes cool when they met mine, but warming instantly when she turned back to him. What a cunning little actress. For the next few minutes, I tried to talk to him, but thanks to her continuous interjections, it felt like trying to make a pitch during a fireworks display. By the time Abram excused himself to greet another attendee, I already knew the interaction had gone poorly. To say the least.
Once he was out of earshot, I glared at her. “The day Westwood and Sons buys out Hinds’ empire is going to be the best day of my life, and not because of the money.” She crossed her arms, her red hair sliding forward over one shoulder like it wanted a front-row seat to the argument. The faint scent of citrus and something warm, maybe vanilla, wafted to my nostrils, affecting me in a way that was de eply inconvenient. “Why is that, Westwood?” she asked. “Because it would mean you lost.” Her smile dropped like a guillotine. “Go to hell.” “I’m already there.” Her eyes flashed, the molten whiskey catching in the overhead lights. For half a second, something electric snapped between us, anger, attraction, and mutual recognition of the other as a worthy adversary probably, but then she turned sharply away from me, already pulling her phone to her ear as she stormed off, her hair swinging angrily behind her. I watched her go for longer than was professionally necessary, staring until Colin appeared beside me and finally drew my attention away from the shape of her ass. He shot me a knowing grin. “That looked productive.” “I despise her.” “Mm.” I rolled my eyes at him and adjusted my tie, forcing myself to focus on the convention floor. Unfortunately, citrus and vanilla lingered in my nostrils, reminding me of her with every breath I took. Damn it. A few minutes later, my phone vibrated in my pocket and I wondered if Alex had somehow sensed there was a hiccup with the Hinds acquisition. I pulled it out automatically, irritation from my run-in with Vanderhaul still simmering beneath my skin, but the second I saw Emma’s name on the screen, everything else dimmed. I opened the message, my stomach dropping like a weight as I read it. Emma: I’m so sorry. Something came up at work. I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. Disappointment settled low and heavy in my chest as I re-read the text, half-waiting for a follow-up message that didn’t come. Irrationally, I immediately blamed Kate fucking Vanderhaul. She had the distinct energy of a woman who could cause a market downturn by making eye contact with it. It was only natural that she had somehow ruined this too. “What’s wrong?” Colin asked. “Don’t tell me Alex already knows.” “Nope.” I locked my phone and shoved it back into my pocket. “My date just got canceled.” “That’s rough.” I nodded my agreement as I drew in a breath I knew wouldn’t steady me right now. “I hope I never see Kate Vanderhaul again. This is her fault. I don’t know how, but it’s true.”
Colin frowned, but he didn’t argue. Logically, I knew Kate couldn’t have called Emma and told her to cancel on me, but that didn’t matter right now. Emma was the love of my life and I’d planned on telling her that tonight. Now, I couldn’t do it. Someone had to pay for that, and right now, Kate was the only target in sight.