2

SOPHIE

It’s only a short walk, maybe half a block, back to the Calloway Holdings Tower. There’s been an accident up ahead, and the sidewalk is blocked off. Police are redirecting people into a narrow side street instead.

Normally, I wouldn’t care. It’s a warm April day. Almost seventy degrees. I didn’t even bother with a jacket.

But the detour slows me down. I start walking faster, trying to stay on time.

I’m two streets away when the weather shifts without warning. The sun fades fast. The sky goes darker. Then rain starts pouring hard, like someone flipped a switch.

I break into a run.

My heels slap the wet pavement. I’m almost at the building when my heel catches on an iron grate hidden in the ground.

I lose my balance completely.

And I fall forward onto the pavement.

For a moment, I just lie there. People move around me like I’m not even there. The rain keeps hitting my skin. My knee burns badly. Blood runs down my shin, mixing with rainwater and spreading.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

I push myself up slowly. My leg hurts, but I don’t stop. I limp the rest of the way to the entrance, past security, and into the building.

Inside, I take the elevator up. My body feels unsteady, but I keep it together.

When the doors open, the office is busy like usual.

Tammy looks up from reception and immediately freezes.

“Good Lord. What happened to you?”

I glance down at myself and shrug. “Rain. Running. Heels. Pavement.”

She grimaces. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Did the meeting already start?”

“Yeah.”

Of course it did.

I briefly think about going to the bathroom to fix myself, but I already know it won’t help. I don’t have spare clothes. My hair is soaked, curls heavy and dripping down.

Cold air hits my wet skin and I shiver.

I walk into my office, grab my padfolio, and head down the hall.

I’ve worked at Harrison Calloway’s company for five years. I’ve never been late to a meeting. Not once. That alone matters to me more than I want to admit.

Now my chest feels tight. Not because I expect anger from him. He’s kind. One of the kindest men I know. But I don’t do late. I don’t arrive like this. It feels wrong.

Then I look down again.

My leg is covered in dirt and blood streaks from the fall. My skirt is torn high up my thigh. The front of me is wet, messy, and completely disheveled.

For a second, I think about cleaning up first. But I remember the memo. This meeting is important. Mandatory attendance.

I take a breath and push the door open.

The conference room is full. Everyone is facing Harrison at the front.

There’s only one empty seat, near the front row. I hurry and take it.

Harrison pauses mid-sentence.

“Sophie, are you all right?” he asks.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “There was an accident. The road was blocked. I got detoured, then ran in the rain and caught my heel.”

His face shows concern right away. “Do you need first aid?”

“I’ll clean up after the meeting. Sorry for interrupting.”

I turn slightly to sit properly and freeze.

My chest tightens. My throat goes dry.

There’s a man sitting right next to me.

I’ve never seen him before.

He looks like he doesn’t belong in the background of anything. Tall. Dark hair. Strong features. Very still, very controlled. But his expression is not calm at all.

He’s scowling.

His eyes move over me slowly. Not once, but again, like he’s studying every detail.

I feel exposed under it.

My face heats immediately.

My wet blouse is clinging to me, making everything obvious in a way I can’t ignore.

His gaze drops lower to my thigh where my torn skirt exposes too much skin. He stares longer than he should.

My jaw tightens.

Who is this guy?

The only empty chair is next to him. He pulls it out and speaks in a low, rough voice.

“Sit.”

I hesitate for half a second, then sit.

I try to focus on Harrison speaking, but I can still feel him beside me. Watching. Not looking away.

There’s a clean, earthy scent coming from him. It’s subtle but distracting.

I lean slightly toward him and whisper, “I know you’re new, but we smile here. And staring is rude.”

He turns his head just enough to look at me.

“Is that so?” he says.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

His eyes stay on me. “What’s your position here, Sophie?”

I don’t usually care about titles, but something about his tone irritates me.

“I’m a fourth-level director,” I say, a little sharper than intended.

I expect a reaction. He gives none.

Instead, his eyes drop again.

I follow his gaze.

I had crossed my legs without thinking.

My skirt has shifted worse than I realized. My entire thigh is exposed. The edge of my lace blue panties is visible.

My hand moves quickly to cover it. Too quickly. I realize I’m pressing down without meaning to.

Heat rushes through my face.

His expression changes slightly. His jaw tightens. His tongue presses briefly against his lip before he pulls it back, controlling it.

I quickly uncross my legs and try to fix the position.

It doesn’t help. The tear shifts again. More is exposed now.

I freeze completely.

His breathing changes. Still controlled, but heavier now.

Without asking, he takes my padfolio from my lap. Opens it. Flips it upside down and places it over my legs, covering me while still looking at me.

His eyes don’t leave mine.

Then the moment breaks.

Applause fills the room.

He stands up.

Walks to the front like he belongs there.

Shakes Harrison Calloway’s hand.

I slowly turn my head toward the screen behind them.

My stomach drops.

His profile is displayed there. Name. Photo. Title.

Welcome to Calloway Holdings Tower.

Ethan Calloway.

Co-CEO.

Harrison Calloway’s successor.