Chapter 2

Reid's POV

"I'll wait for you until I'm 35."

That was the promise a 25-year-old Reid Harding made to Maren Hale.

That year, to get back at her mother for using an arranged match to drive Roman away, Maren transformed overnight from Harborfield's most promising heiress into a woman who burned through lovers like cigarettes.

When I met her, I had two dollars to my name and was busking on a street corner. Something about me must have touched whatever softness was left in her, because she leaned against the wall and listened to me sing all night.

Her eyes were glassy when she finally spoke. "Come with me. I'll give you a hundred thousand a year."

I found out later that her family had cut off all her cards to bring her back in line. That hundred thousand was every cent 25-year-old Maren had to her name.

To keep affording me, she stubbed out her cigarette and went back to Hale Industries. Her family beat her bloody for it, and she still smiled through the bruises just to keep me from worrying.

I knelt beside her, barely able to keep it together. "Maren, I'll wait ten years for you. But you have to marry me, or I'll find someone else."

Ten years later, I was still her dirty little secret, and my salary for playing both arm candy and personal assistant hadn't changed from that original hundred thousand.

The birthday party ended on a sour note. Maren didn't so much as glance at the resignation letter before she slammed the door on her way out.

The next morning at work, before I could bring up the resignation again, Greg Langford from HR pulled me into the break room.

"Reid, what's going on between you and Ms. Hale? You two actually broke up?" he asked.

Before I could reply, he continued, "Listen to me, man. A woman like her, top of the food chain in every way, and she stayed loyal to just you for ten years. That's practically unheard of. Does it really matter if you two never make it official? Don't throw this away over something like that.

"And by the way, she brought some new guy in today for an internship and he went straight to the 23rd floor. You need to be paying attention."

That was how I found out Maren had brought Roman into the company. He walked in on day one and landed the position it took me ten years to reach, and Maren called a special executive meeting just for him.

"This is Roman Callister. Starting today, he'll be my personal assistant. I expect everyone's full cooperation."

Then she turned to me. "Reid, hand your multimillion-dollar account over to Roman. It'll be good practice for him."

She held out a latte to me, and my eyes stung the second I saw it.

Last fall, I'd been sentimental enough to ask Maren for a pumpkin spice latte, the kind every couple seemed to be posting about when the weather turned. She barely looked up from her desk and said, "Reid, you're almost 35. Stop acting like some lovesick college kid. It's embarrassing."

But now she'd gone out and bought me a coffee, all because of Roman.

I shook my head and set the latte down in front of Roman instead. "This is really for you, Mr. Callister."

Maren didn't know that I'd quit sugar a long time ago, all because of a passing comment she once made about me putting on weight in my old age.

Roman smiled, shy and boyish in a way that didn't match his years. "Maren sent me over a dozen drinks this morning, every flavor she could think of, because she wasn't sure what I liked.

"This one's a red velvet latte. She said only older people order this kind of thing, so it's not really my thing, but Maren said you'd like it."

It felt like a needle being dragged slowly across my heart, so thin and precise that the pain didn't even register right away. Every gift I thought Maren had chosen for me was just whatever Roman didn't want.

Before Maren could say a word, I handed the account file over to Roman. "It's all yours, Mr. Callister."

Then I pulled out my phone and texted Greg.

"I know the company's putting together a layoff list. Add my name to it."