This was supposed to be the worst day of his life, yet there was a hint of mirth in his eyes.
And me?
Why was my stomach fluttering?
Why was my heart rate speeding up?
No. This was not supposed to happen. I was immune to his charm. He was cruel, manipulative, and greedy. Karma was a bitch, and she was coming for him.
He should be broken.
Instead, he was smirking. So I’d just have to work even harder to make him pay.
Chapter 1Chloe
Panic. I was overwhelmed with panic.
In a new house, in a new state, and gearing up to run my new company.
I had built my life around change. Always chasing it, always seeking new and novel experiences—new ways to challenge myself. But this morning? I was exhausted.
This was my victory lap. My triumph. I wasn’t only here for business. It was personal, too.
And after two decades of growing, fighting, and becoming this hard-ass version of myself, I had been ready for my big moment.
So now that I’d confronted Gus, why didn’t I feel better?
“Boss, it’s time to go,” JJ hollered from the kitchen.
“Ten more minutes.” I’d applied my strip lashes too hastily, and now they were crooked. Usually, I was meticulous about my makeup, but with the rush I was in today, I probably looked like a toddler let loose with a palette of face paint.
I fumbled around for my highlighter and was applying a light dusting when the sound of loons calling from the lake tempted me to step out onto my little patio and sit on my wicker chair.
No. I’d come here to work. When I’d found the listing for this house, I couldn’t pass it up. But I hadn’t accounted for how difficult it would be to actually make it to work every day.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who sat still. I liked to be on my feet, creating and fixing and making things happen. Movement was my medicine, in every sense.
But something about being here made me want to be still. The scenery, the serenity, made me want to sit back and just breathe for a moment.
Was this burnout?
Hell no. In fact, I was pretty certain that burnout didn’t exist. It was a condition experienced by people with far less to accomplish than me. Yes, I got tired sometimes, but when I did, I’d double down and muscle through.
There was no reason to be alarmed by this odd feeling. The poor sleep, dry skin, and constant headaches were normal too. I was almost forty, worked nonstop, and was frequently jumping from one time zone to another. I’d order more of that criminally expensive moisturizer and get back to work.
I started on my hair, though, despite my efforts to push it away, the uneasy sensation remained.
Was this my body’s response to avoiding the difficult feelings I’d been grappling with?
About my family, the business, my life, turning forty.
And a certain someone in particular.
A tall, strong, bearded someone.
Fuck. Had this all been a huge mistake?
In my head, it had all made perfect sense. And no one loved to plan as much as I did.
My boardroom moment in Boston had been a triumph.
Too bad the bastard had looked so damn good.
Like himself. An older, wiser, sexier version of himself.
He had always been thick and strong, barrel-chested with broad shoulders. Though his hair was longer and his beard thicker.
The days of patchy stubble and the dream of a beard more than the fully realized version had long since passed.
He’d been a boy then, but now he was a man. A little unkempt and with a glare that could stop traffic, but all man.
Was he happy? Did he have a nice life? Was he married? Kids?
Why did I care?
Did he have fulfilling hobbies?
