DEVON'S POV
I didn’t plan it.
God knows, if I had, I would’ve avoided that wing of the residence entirely. I would’ve buried myself under more policy memos or locked myself in another meeting I didn’t care about just to avoid the scent that haunted me now like a curse.
But fate has a twisted sense of humour.
I had just left the west conference hall, walking fast, trying to shake the weight of everything Franco had said earlier, when I saw him.
Jimmie.
Right there. Alone in the hall outside Eleanor’s private study, thumbing through one of the black folders she’d had him deliver earlier. His head was bent, and the light caught the edge of his glasses, the soft golden curl falling across his forehead.
I froze.
That scent. Warm sugar and spice and storm clouds. It hit me so hard, I sta
