David’s POV
“Riley!” a staff called out, pushing her sunglasses higher on her face as she climbed into the car.
“You’re late,” Riley grinned as she rolled down the window. “Traffic. Get in.”
There was something about the way she held her phone tucked tight to her ear, thumb nervously tapping the side. It sparked something.
Two weeks ago, I’d dropped files to the finance strategy department floor—quick delivery, no chit-chat. But I remembered her. The girl in the corner cubicle with a desk that looked like a stationery convention threw up on it.
I was parked just a few cars behind, engine off, eyes trained on the exchange like a man on a surveillance mission—which, to be fair, I kind of was.
I narrowed my eyes. That girl—Harper, right? —looked familiar. Not just because I’d seen her i
