CHAPTER EIGHT

NATHAN

The last thing I wanted was to leave Amelia, but Sharon’s call left me no choice. She explained the situation with Brad and the Novak account—he’d made inappropriate comments to their CFO, jeopardizing the entire deal. Novak was threatening to pull their business.

That fucking Brad.

Relief flashes in Amelia’s eyes when I tell her I’m leaving. It doesn’t last long as I add, “I’ll be back to finish our conversation.”

I head straight to the airport, where my plane waits. During the flight, Sharon calls again, mentioning an early afternoon meeting with Novak. Great. We can get this settled.

The Novak meeting required finesse—a delicate balance of apologies and assurances. I smoothed over Brad’s blunder with practiced diplomacy, each word rolling off my tongue like honey. But beneath my polished exterior, frustration simmered at the interruption, at being pulled away from Amelia.

***

Back at the office, exhaustion finally catches up to me. I sink into my chair, the leather creaking beneath the weight of the day.

A knock at the door, and Sharon enters, handing me a stack of files. “Your schedule for the next two days,” she begins, then lists off meetings with the marketing team, a conference call with London, and dinner with the Nakamuras tomorrow night.

I flip through the papers, not seeing the words. “Cancel everything. I’m going back to Dallas.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. I’ve never canceled a meeting for personal reasons in all the years she’s worked for me.

“Of course, Mr. Grant. I’ll rearrange your schedule and notify the pilot.”

She turns to leave but hesitates at the door, her hand on the brass knob. “Is everything all right, sir?”

The worry in her eyes reflects the turmoil inside me. For a moment, I consider telling her the truth—spilling the secrets that have haunted me for years. But old habits die hard, and I hide behind professionalism.

“Everything’s fine, Sharon. Thank you.”

She nods and slips out of the office, the door clicking behind her. I lean back in my chair, staring at the city beyond the window.

Amelia is living a life I know nothing about, a life she’s built without me. The need to understand her anger and why she left gnaws at me like an open wound.

There’s a sudden commotion outside my office, and I hear Brad’s voice, followed by Sharon’s firm, professional tone. I spring out of my chair and open the door to see Brad leaning against her desk.

“Nate! Just the man I wanted to see. Let’s hit the town tonight—celebrate your triumphant return.”

I take in his rumpled clothes, the stench of alcohol clinging to him like a heavy fog. It’s disgusting.

“I don’t have time. I’m leaving.”

His smile falters, and anger flickers in his eyes. “Come on, man. Don’t be such a buzzkill. We used to have fun, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.” I glance at him, my voice cold. “Things change.”

“Ah, come on.”

I ignore his protests and stride past him, my mind already a thousand miles away, tangled in thoughts of Amelia.

When I hit the road, everything around me fades into the background. The trip to the airport passes in a blur, and when I arrive, the plane is waiting, its engines whining as I board. As we take off, the anticipation grows. I can’t wait to see her again.

Hours later, we land at Love Field, and I disembark into the warm Texas evening. The same driver meets me as he did the last time I was here.

“It’s good to see you again, sir.”

“Good to see you. You ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s go.”

I stare out the window as we drive, and when we get to her apartment, I just sit.

“What would you like to do, sir?”

I draw a deep breath. “Can you wait here for a while?”

“I can wait for as long as you like.”

“Thanks.”

I get out of the car and march.

When I knock on the door, it echoes. A heartbeat passes, then another. The door swings open, but instead of Amelia, it’s Jules standing there. She bites her lip. “What are you doing here?”

Before I can respond, a little boy—no more than two or three—comes running down the hallway. His chubby legs pump as he barrels toward Jules and stops beside her. He looks up at me and tilts his head, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

“Who are you?”