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Chapter Two
Summer
My heart is pounding sohard in my chest I’m surprised everyone I walk past doesn’t hear it.
When I’d started a petition for everyone who lived in the apartment to sign, everyone had thought it was a great idea. I could tell that most of them didn’t really have any hope that our petition would amount to much, but they gave me their signatures anyway.
They’d also thought it’d be a great idea if I was the one who delivered it to the asshole who’d bought the building. I hadn’t really wanted to be the one to take it to him personally. I’d been hoping someone more experienced in the business world, like maybe Mr. Mulligan from the third floor, would have done it.
But nope, everyone who lived in the building had voted for me to be the one to do it.
I wasn’t experienced in these matters at all. I just hoped—no, prayed—that there was a shred of decency in the new owner and that once he found out how many lives would be upset by his plans that maybe—just maybe—he’d be a decent human being and refrain from leveling the building.
Feeling distinctly out of place in my pale yellow sundress and with my flip flops flopping against the gleaming marble floor of Rushing Holdings, I realize now that it’s a long shot.
But it was all I’d come up with.
Although I’d taken extra care with my appearance today and had brushed my long tresses out until they gleamed, I still feel shabby walking through the building filled with people in designer suits and dresses and shoes that cost more than three months of rent for us.
I finally make my way up to the receptionist’s desk, and my cheeks burn at the dressing down the woman behind the desk gives me with her eyes that sweep me from head to toe with disdain.
It’s obvious I don’t belong here, and her eyes and tone let me know that when she raises a perfectly waxed eyebrow and asks, “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I lift my shoulders and try not to shift from foot to foot, “I need to see Mr. Rushing.”
If possible, her raised eyebrow arches even further into her hairline. “Do you have an appointment, dear?”
The way she calls me dear is condescending to say the least, but I can’t hide the slight slump of my shoulders at her question.
Of course I’d have to have an appointment. Did I really think I’d be able to walk in off the street and talk to the owner of this huge corporation? And how would I even manage to get one? By the looks of this place, people are probably vying for this guy’s attention.
I cling to that stubborn bit of hope I’m known for and hope that I can reason with her. “No, but—“
No sooner is the ‘no’ out of my mouth than she dismisses me with a fake smile, “I’m sorry, hon, but you can’t see Mr. Rushing without an appointment.”
“But what I need to talk to him about is really important,” I blurt out, sounding like a child. My face reddens even more, and I feel panic starting to rise up in me. Even if he doesn’t give a damn about our petition, I’ve come too far for him to not even see it.
“I’m sure it is,” she patronizes me, “but I’m afraid without an appointment I can’t—“
I don’t hear another word she says, though, because the door behind her suddenly opens and a tall, imposing form in a dark suit takes up the whole doorway.
Piercing, verdant green eyes stare into me, and I’m hit with a feeling of deja vu.
It’s him.
* * *
Dane
It’s her.
The girl from the beach.
The one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for three goddamn days. Ever since that day I’d seen her in her little white bikini and her seafoam eyes had crashed into mine.
I’d wanted to know her name, who she was, where she lived, anything about her, but a business call had come in that I’d had to take and I’d lost my chance. I’d been pulled away by work and have been busy ever since.
I’d thought about having one of my contacts find her, but I didn’t have a picture to give them or anything. No name or anything to go on. Just a description.
