Sydney
It’s been three days since Bryce last spoke to me. So much for strategic partners.
The silence from his end was deafening, a physical weight that pressed against my chest every time I checked my phone.
After the gala, after the envelope, and after that stinging remark he’d left me with on the balcony—that I was the reason I was alone—he had vanished into the shadows of his own empire.
I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself that Sydney Carter didn’t need a savior, especially not one who looked at me with that lethal combination of desire and disappointment.
But as I sat in my home office, the glow of the laptop screen making my eyes ache, I realized I was lying to myself.
Every time I closed my eyes, I didn’t see the documents or Eric’s smug face; I felt the ghost of Bryce’
