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Chapter Eighteen

Graham

Ishould have stayed.

I should have pulled Anastasia back into my arms, kissed her senseless, and promised her we’d figure this out together.

But instead, I left.

Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that words mean nothing without action.

And this—what’s between us—deserves more than whispered assurances in the dark. It deserves something real.

Which is why, the second I slide into my car, I pull out my phone and dial Brooke.

She answers on the third ring, voice groggy but alert. “Graham?”

“I need a meeting first thing tomorrow morning,” I say, starting the car. “You, me, my office.”

There’s a beat of silence before she exhales heavily. “I assume this has something to do with the rumors?”

“It has something to do with the truth.”

Brooke mutters something under her breath. “Do I even want to know?”

I grip the steering wheel tighter. “I’m in a relationship with Anastasia.”

Silence.

Then—

“Well, shit.”

I almost laugh. “That about sums it up.”

She sighs. “I’ll be there at seven.”

“Make it six-thirty.”

Another pause. “I hate you.”

“You’re the best,” I say, hanging up before she can argue.

I sit there for a moment, staring at the empty street, before shifting into drive.

I have a plan.

Now I just have to make sure it works.

I’m in my office before dawn.

A cup of coffee sits untouched on my desk as I sift through the documents in front of me, flipping past clauses and terms until I land on the section I’m looking for.

The no fraternization policy.

It takes me less than a minute to read.

And when I do, I let out a slow breath, relief settling in my chest like a weight being lifted.