Britt Collier was perilously close to losing her shit. She was the only accountant on the payroll currently, and while she didn’t mind answering relevant questions, she didn’t need her smarmy boss leaning over her desk. He was obviously craning his neck to get a view down her blouse. Familiar with this tactic, she had her blouse buttoned up high and a tank top on beneath it so even in the case of some catastrophic button apocalypse; she’d still be safeguarded from his prying eyes. If the small company had an HR department, she’d file a complaint for sexual harassment. As it was, the hiring manager was also the COO’s assistant so it wouldn’t exactly be news. The COO, also called the chief operations officer, director of operations, is a position that was one of the highest-ranking executive positions in an organization. Maybe someday, she’d get that high up the corporate ladder. A girl can always reach for the sky, right? In fact, Britt was pretty sure the assistant got her cushy dual-title job by doing some horizontal interviewing with Mr. Freeman himself. Britt would’ve liked to imagine herself as a no-nonsense woman, a feminist who took no prisoners. However, she slumped at her desk miserably and said nothing as Freeman reached across her to point at her monitor. He couldn’t stop staring at her chest. She slid back from the desk in her wheeled office chair and stood. “That’s about enough,” she said. “Pardon me, Miss Collier?” he said, eyebrows raised warningly. “I explained all of this in my email. So if you don’t mind, I have expense accounts to update.” “Sure. I know how busy you are.” “If you’ll excuse me.”

It’s when I’m walking to the back office that I feel it. The shift in the air. It’s subtle—a ghost of a chill that flickers down my spine. What the heck? I brush it off, straightening my shoulders and walking through the open door. I don’t see him at first, but when I do—that chill drops like an iceberg, free-falling through my body and freezing me in place. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening. “Alina! I was starting to wonder if you would even show up,” my boss, Regina, says as she smiles thinly. She’s annoyed, and rightly so. I should respond, but I don’t. I’m not sure I physically can since my heart has stalled in my chest. Chase Adams. I’d love him if I didn’t hate him so much. There’s a pencil behind his ear, a blueprint rolled up in his hand, and another laid out on the desk. But he isn’t looking at that. He’s locked on me, mouth partially open, hand frozen halfway through his silky, dark hair. He swallows, and my traitorous eyes track the way his throat bobs. “Goldi.” The nickname travels across the room and pierces me in the chest, snapping me out of my shock. “Don’t call me that.” He sucks in a breath, but clamps his mouth shut and nods. “You two know each other?” Regina points between the two of us. Chase starts to answer. “Yeah, actually we used—” “Our folks are neighbors,” I interrupt. “We grew up together, but no. I never really knew him.” I stand stoic, my gaze never straying from Regina. But I can feel him. My body hums, reminding me of the first time I saw him at eleven years old, and just like then, I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching out.