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“Big day ahead!” he says with a smile. “Our flight home leaves at two!”
I grin as the door closes behind him.
Home. For the first time in so long, I don’t immediately dread the thought. Something about it feels different this time. This time, I’m not just going back to a place full of memories I’d rather forget.
I’m going back to a place with a future that I don’t want to miss.
CHAPTER 42
PAIGE
“Other than that...” I flip the last page of my portfolio and skim. “I think that’s it,” I say. “First quarter 2022 audits of every Botsford Plaza Hotel are now complete.”
Graham nods from the chair behind his desk. While the remaining twenty-nine stories below us are for guests, the 30th floor of Botsford Plaza Vegas is home to the CEO’s offices and a couple of boardrooms where all the company magic happens. The wall of windows beside us displays a remarkable view of the Las Vegas skyline from thirty stories high. Or it would be remarkable if it weren’t monsoon season. Rain pours down from the sky, making it difficult to even see The Strip from up here.
Home sweet home.
“I’m always relieved to hear you say that,” Graham says, wincing with dread. “Then, quarter two begins.”
I chuckle. “We’ll worry about those when we get there. Or Oliver will this time, I guess.”
He smiles. “Music to my ears.”
His phone vibrates on the table, and he reaches for it. The sudden silence between us echoes, highlighting the racing thump of my heart pounding against my ribs.
Graham, Oliver and I...
So, four years ago...
God, how do I do this?
I tell myself that Graham will understand. These things... happen. Feelings just sort of... spring up when you aren’t expecting them to. I’m here to fess up and take full responsibility for it... as soon as I can get the words out.
Graham sets his phone down. “Sorry,” he says to me. “I’m getting a hundred emails a day about my mother.”
“Fiona’s big senate announcement making waves?” I ask.
“It’ll die down, eventually.”
I snort. “You don’t follow politics much, do you?”
Graham cringes, highlighting the tired circles under his eyes.
Graham, Oliver and I...
Well, you see, we have some history, and...
Oh, screw it.
Just say it.
“Graham, there’s something else I need to talk to you about,” I say.
He bobs his head at my clipboard. “Go on and hit me with it,” he says.
I hold my breath. “Well, it’s...”
I pause, still unsure how to phrase it delicately, but there’s no really great way to say I’m in the midst of a sordid, ongoing love affair with my superior.
