ISABEL
My phone buzzes at seven AM, pulling me from restless sleep. A text from Ares: Coffee run. Your usual? I'll be there in 20.
I stare at the message, my brain still foggy, then yesterday comes rushing back, the meeting, Marco's intensity, and his demand for dinner tonight, I agreed to have dinner with Marco tonight and now Ares is bringing me coffee.
I should say no and establish boundaries. I should not be accepting coffee dates and dinner invitations from two different men who are business partners and who I slept with simultaneously but I text back anyway: You don't have to do that.
I want to. See you soon, beautiful.
Twenty minutes later, I'm dressed in a navy sheath dress and sitting at my cubicle when Ares appears with two coffee cups in hand and that devastating smile on h
