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“Are you crazy?” I force out slowly. “Like, are you having some kind of breakdown?”
“Crazy? No.” He cocks his head like I’m the insane one. “This is a proposal, Miss Lark. I need you to say yes.”
The words are already receding.
My head might pop off and spin away to the moon.
I am so confused.
“Excuse me,” I whisper faintly, even as the world tilts sideways.
“Miss Lark? Are you—”
“I’m going to faint again,” I whisper, barely catching my balance.
IV
CALM BEFORE THE STORM
(AUGUST)
This woman brings chaos wherever she goes, like a sweet but deadly perfume.
It’s been a morning.
First, Merrick called me in a panic.
Let me be clear—I’m not a morning person.
There’s a special place in hell for whoever invented them.
Mornings are a waste of time. Everything is still beginning, nothing solidified, and anything worth happening still can’t be dealt with until it’s had more time to develop.
What’s the point in waking up before I can take immediate action on pressing issues?
Plus, Rick typically reviews our global business and financial headlines affecting whatever industry I’m contracted out to now. He has a list of relevant articles and publications compiled in my inbox before I even sit up and yawn.
However, today he was browsing the gossip rags. Social media. Some odd little thing called Clubhouse, and something else involving a tick-tock.
All because people are talking about me for no good reason, and on a clock app where ten-second dog videos rack up more views than State of the Union speeches, no less.
Dammit, not again.
Regrettably, this time they aren’t only discussing me.
They’ve dragged Miss Elle Lark into my shit show, and that means I had to pry my eyes open before eleven. Not happily.
That also means I’m standing on her doorstep with the perfect solution to our crisis in hand, while she goes chalk white and sways like a sapling about to fall over.
Not a-fucking-gain.
This time, I’m glad I’m only one step away to catch her.
In one movement, I pocket the ring. In another, I step forward, sweeping an arm around her waist before she can do more than dip to the side.
She doesn’t fall as far or as hard as I expect.
I pull her up more sharply than I intend, right as she reaches for the door to brace herself in the frame.
