Chapter 1
Liam
This is my last stint in boardrooms. If everything goes well, I can finally breathe.
“Just give me a second, Mr. Stone. I’ll have your guest pass and the key card for the suite ready in a minute.” The front desk attendant gives me a honeyed smile while her fingers glide across the keys, the typing echoing in the vast, empty corporate foyer.
When I called Cormac Quinn, the CEO of Merged, he graciously offered me their corporate visitor suites, conveniently located one floor above their offices. I adjust my collar.
A voice cuts through the lobby like a ricochet. “Corm, I’m not upstairs because I’m on my way to get you the meetingwith Pascal.”
I glance toward the sound and… well, not what I expected.
Actually, I’m not sure what my imagination conjured in the few seconds between my overhearing her and now.
Definitely nother.
The woman who can get me closer to my goal. She doesn’t know she’s already part of the equation. And I don’t have the luxury of caring.
A pixie—or more of a spark—charges across the marble floor. She’s clad in a too-tight sequin dress, her wild dreadlocks tangled into a chaotic bun. The dress is red enough to violate building codes.
And why is she stumbling like a baby deer on black ice?
With her phone between her shoulder and her ear, she bends one knee, lifting her foot and swaying as she tries to take off her shoe.
Her heels look like they were engineered for self-harm. She’s losing the battle with them.
Barreling through the marble space, she mutters something that sounds like she is giving shit to the untouchable Cormac Quinn. If that’s who she’s talking to.
Finally, she yanks the second shoe off mid-stride. She stumbles, catches herself, and swearslike a sailor.
She’s juggling balance, phone, and footwear with the coordination of a drunken monkey, and yet somehow, the chaos works.
A streak of sequins, bare feet, and pure defiance.
“Okay, I’ll come back upstairs,” she grumbles, and turns back toward the elevators.
She steps into one, and the lobby falls back into silence.
Little Thunder. Not what I expected, for sure.
The receptionist clears her throat.
I realize I’m still watching the elevator. And smiling. What the fuck? Those muscles in my face haven’t clocked in for years.
“Your pass and your key.” The receptionist clears her throat for the second time.
“I have a dinner meeting. Can I leave my suitcase here?”
“Of course, Mr. Stone. Or I can have security bring it to your suite?”
“Great.”
I tear my eyes from the elevators and step outside. The restaurant is across the street from the Merged offices. Convenient. When I enter, the convenience evaporates.
The dining room buzzes with the evening crowd—too many voices layered on top of each other.
I’ve never understood the need to socialize with people you see for ten hours daily.
