I was here, in this building.

And if I were smart, I'd leave in a month or two with all of Margaret's secrets. And if those secrets included anything that had directly harmed my father or screwed me over...

"All finished." The sound of Dora's voice made me jump, but I didn’t think she noticed as she took her seat. She slid my ID across the desk. I picked it up, careful not to make contact with her so she wouldn't feel the nervous sweat dampening my palms. Leaning back in her chair, she offered me an expression that somewhat resembled a smile. "You're done here. You can go home."

Sharp fear speared the pit of my stomach. Keeping my demeanor calm, I put my ID in my bag and cocked my eyebrow at Dora. "Is anything wrong?"

She studied her computer screen, not looking at me, and my heart felt like it was seconds from exploding from my chest. I glanced at the door, confident that at any second, law enforcement would burst in and drag me away.

"Not at all,” Dora said dismissively, grabbing a half-full iced coffee from the edge of her desk that I hadn’t noticed before. I let the relief sink in as she took a sip and sighed. “As you already know from our discussion last week, Margaret's been working remotely while overseas for fashion week. She was supposed to be back in the office yesterday, but she was delayed. She’s adamant that you don't start until she returns."

"I see. And when will that be?"

Dora dabbed at her mouth with a pink lipstick-stained napkin and studied the large calendar beneath her keyboard. After several seconds, she tapped her finger on October tenth, three days from today. "She'll definitely be back and settled in by Thursday.” She glanced up at me, blowing wisps of hair from her face. "Can you be here first thing Thursday morning?"

I nodded a little too eagerly. "Yes, of course."

"I've asked Pamela to give Carl a call to let him know you'll be stopping by for your badge on the way out.” As if she’d completely brushed off whatever had happened between her and Oliver, Dora stood to dismiss me. “Welcome to Emerson & Taylor, Miss Connelly."

*

Leaving the HR department, and even as I rode the elevator back downstairs to Carl, anxiety crawled through my veins. I found the security guard leisurely sipping the coffee Stella had bribed him with, watching me with light eyes that made me feel like he could see right through me.

“Excited?” he asked, as he presented a newly printed badge on the counter in front of me. He placed a clipboard beside it and motioned for me to sign beside where my name was neatly printed. “It’s a good company. I’ve been here since ninety-four.”

He was here before my parents divorced, I thought. Had I met Carl when I was a child? Had he checked my mother and me through security so we could visit my father? If I told him who I was right now, would Carl remember me?

I responded with a smile, but my eyes unintentionally wandered to the left side of the lobby where my mom’s photo hung. “I can’t wait to meet Ms. Emerson.” My hand shook as I signed Lizzie Connelly—the name I’d practiced so many times over the last few months I could likely sign the damn thing in my sleep. “I’ve looked up to her ever since I was a little girl.” Saying those words aloud nearly choked me, but I maintained my expression.

“Every girl who comes through that door says that,” Carl mused as I shoved my new employee ID in my purse. When I forced myself to make eye contact, his forehead was wrinkled. "You can relax now; you've already got the job."

"I am relaxed."

"Uh-huh." He took another drink of his coffee, polishing it off. He tossed the cup into a wastebasket beneath the security desk. "You have a good one, Miss Connelly. We'll see you Thursday."

I felt the blood rushing to my face as I hurried away from the desk and across the lobby. My short legs seemed to take impossibly long strides in my effort to get to the parking garage. We did it, I thought, feeling weightless, invincible.

We did it.

As I rode the elevator down to the garage, I groped around in my bag for my phone. My eyes were trained on the screen when I stepped out of the steel car, so I stood to the side of the elevator, out of the line of any traffic that might come through the silent garage as I started my message to Penelope.

Margaret won't be back until Thursday, so I'm not needed until then, but I'm in. I'm officially in. You are a genius, Lisbeth. Neal. Whoever the hell you are.

I was about to hit send, but the deafening blast of a car horn drew a shriek from the back of my throat. My phone tumbled from my hands, the screen shattering on the concrete with a crack that signaled the end of the iPhone I’d only had for a few months. Furious, I stared at the splintered screen for a second before lifting my eyes, seething at the horn blower.

Sitting less than ten feet away from me was a jet black Dodge Viper.

And climbing out of the sleek car and coming right at me was Oliver.

What the hell was he doing?

Suddenly hyperaware of his every movement, I angled my body slightly away from his, hunching my shoulders defensively. Christ, he really was something to look at.

"Was I in your way?" I demanded hotly as I stalked forward to grab my phone. He beat me to it. Assessing the damage, his full lips curled into a frown. Somehow, he even made a foul expression look sensual.

"You could've walked in front of my car.”

This was one of those blonde jokes—it had to be. "Standing perfectly still?" I questioned sardonically. At his serious nod, I softly bit my tongue, sliding it from side to side between my teeth a few times so I wouldn’t respond callously. He’s my boss’ son, I reminded myself. In all honesty though, Oliver probably deserved every rough word I wanted to give him at the moment. "Thank you for the warning,” I said dryly.

A broad grin spreading across his face, he held my phone out to me. Noticing my reluctance to take it, his fingers skimmed mine as he placed it in my palm. His fleeting touch was a shock to my system, a jolt of pure electricity that sent all my nerve endings into chaos. Exhaling, he stared down at my hands. The expression in his blue eyes was unreadable.

“Thank you,” I said again, dropping the sarcasm this time.

“Anytime.” He clenched his fingers. “What's your name?" When I didn't answer, focusing instead on stowing the now useless iPhone in one of the zippered compartments of my purse, he moved even closer to me. The warm, heady scent of his cologne washed over me, causing my stomach to flutter. "Which floor are you on?"

I hoisted my bag higher on my shoulder and rolled my eyes. "So you can scare the shit out of me there, too?"

He ran his teeth over his lip. The gesture was almost ... inviting. Abruptly, the feather-soft fluttering in my stomach gave way to a sharp swell of something I didn’t want to identify by name. I always did have a thing for the beautiful ones, especially when they were so clearly out of my reach. "So I can replace your phone,” he offered, his deep voice cutting through my thoughts.

"I have insurance, but thanks." I smiled tightly and started to walk around him. "Now, if you don’t mind, I—"

When he reached out and grabbed my wrist, the first thing that registered in my brain was how hot his fingers felt on my skin. Grazing my pulse point, his touch was soft and yet commanding. It was a touch from a man used to getting his way.

"Wait," he ordered, and my pulse skipped. Unhurriedly, I turned on my heel to look at him warily. Although he should have released my arm, he didn’t. Instead, he pulled me closer to him and touched my chin with his thumb.