I frown at him. He knows my last name. Once upon a time, the man with the perfectly styled dark-blond hair and the bright-blue eyes sitting across from me—in a charcoal-gray suit that probably cost more than my car payment—was my colleague. Someone I grabbed coffee with between client meetings and bantered withover strategy. Someone who kept me on my toes whether I wanted him to or not. We mostly argued, but it was more fun than annoying. And somehow, we made a pretty good team.
That was before he went and betrayed me. The jerkwad.
Two years at Pulse and he’s running A-list clients solo while I’m still working my way out of Simone’s shadow. Not that I’m keeping track.
Too bad I can’t give my curse to someone else. Although instead of him being a one-kiss wonder, I’d rather he were cursed with a toe fungus that resists all treatment.
“I’m assuming you’re here to talk about River Rhodes?” I say, placing my intertwining fingers on the table in front of me. It’s time to do what I came here to do and then leave. And if we could do that as quickly as possible, that would be fantastic.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Simone?” he asks, tilting his head to look behind me as if she might be there waiting for an invitation to join us. Which is something Simone would never do.
“No,” I say. “I’m running point on this for now.”
“Oh,” he says, his eyes widening a minuscule amount before he schools his expression. But I caught it.
I feel something swoop deep in my belly. The feeling that I’m being underestimated. I don’t like it. I sit up straighter in my chair, pushing back my shoulders, my posture readingYou have no idea who you’re dealing with.
But he does, actually. When Luke was at Harrow & Finch, we held the same title and worked with the same clients. In the end, there was only one opening for senior account executive, and it was given to me. Only by default, though, because Luke took himself out of the running. Leaving the firm and taking a client with him.Myclient.
It was a jerk move, and I’ll never know if I got this position because I earned it or because I was the only choice. Don’t get me wrong: I’m good at my job, and I deserved the promotion, but sometimes I wonder. I hate that the thought haunts me.
“How is Simone?” he asks. “I was hoping to catch up.”
How is Simone? That’s the million-dollar question.
“She’s fine,” I say, not wanting to share anything I shouldn’t. Not that I would be tempted to with Luke Wilder. Plus, I don’t even know what’s going on with my boss.
“Do you know she once called me on New Year’s Eve? I thought she wanted to wish me a happy New Year; instead, she was asking me to send her a client update.”
“She hasn’t changed,” I say.
“I guess that’s good to know,” he says.
“So, can we get started?” I ask, ready to get this over with.
Luke furrows his brow. “Don’t you want to get lunch first?” He taps a finger on the simple printed menu in front of him.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him.
“Are you sure? Because if memory serves me correctly, you have a hard time working when you’re hungry.”
I hate that he remembers this about me. “I’m fine,” I say.
I’ll just have to hope the toast I ate in the car on the way to work this morning will suffice.
“Well, I’m hungry,” he says, signaling at a server standing a few feet away with a lift of his chin before focusing back on me. “And besides, it’s on the firm.” He gives me a little wink, and I scowl back.
“I’m kind of busy,” I tell him. This isn’t a lie. I had to set aside all of my own tasks for today to take this lunch for Simone. And who knows what else she’ll need me to do when I get back. And also, I’d like to be anywhere but here.
Luke ignores me completely, glancing at his menu as the server—a man with a top knot, wearing black pants and a white button-down shirt—approaches.
“What can I get for you?” the server asks.
Luke holds the menu up in front of him, his brows pinching as he studies it. He peppers the server with questions, trying to decide between the steak or the chicken, taking his sweet time, as if we have all day, before finally deciding on the fish. Typical Luke.
By the time the server walks away, I’m seething. I’m also slightly hungry now that I’ve heard them discussing the side dishes—particularly the warm pita and hummus—but I’ve missed mychance. And I also can’t order anything now on principle. My stomach grumbles, and I don’t appreciate it outing me like that.
Luke sits back in his seat and places his hands on his lap.
