KIERAN
Her phone had been sitting on my desk for three days, and I hadn't been able to make myself send it back.
I should have had Marcus box it up with the rest of her things—the spare cardigan she kept folded in her bottom drawer, the chipped mug from Hopkins she used for afternoon tea, that ridiculous little cactus she'd named Gerald for reasons I'd never asked about. Standard protocol for departing employees.
Instead, the phone sat exactly where I'd placed it after security brought it up from her desk. Right next to the Caran d'Ache pen holder my grandfather gave me when I made my first million. Right in my line of sight every time I looked up from a contract.
The screen lit up at my touch.
Her lock screen wallpaper glowed in the dim light of my office, and something in my chest
