Page 48 of The Wrong Promise

I call the concierge.

“Hi, Trent. I’m sending you a list of groceries to have delivered tonight.”

I didn’t think about food again with meetings dragging out to midafternoon. I checked my cell like a teenager waiting for a reply, and yet there was not one word from Zara.

Only messages from my mother.

Byron believes you have a girlfriend in London. Is there any truth to it? Please give me the grace of not being the last to know if you have a love interest. It’s not curiosity, more happiness you have found someone to share your life with. Why didn’t you mention it when you were here?

I let out a long sigh. The reason my mother is the last toknow is because she is already assuming I have found someone to share my life with. Byron is deflecting the attention from himself, and I’m not chasing any girl around the world as he did by surprising Giana in Italy…yet in a way, I am.

I walk into the last meeting of the day with the new company Board we are taking over. It is Warburton Investments where Zara works. The asset value of their portfolio fell six months ago, and Franklin and I tracked the risk and capitalization rate before taking steps to acquire the majority stake in the company. Culture at the top level has improved with the recent changes in management. Our strategy is to sell off noncore assets in industrial and commercial portfolios and focus on office accommodation in CBD areas. The business was founded on office real estate, and for the next hour, I’m met with arguments about our new direction with ESG activist investors. Thankfully, we have Penny working for the company with her knowledge of current-day ESG issues. We have it under control and want this damn meeting to end.

The debate stretches out to six o’clock. Acquiring this company is something I have kept from Zara. Since she is an employee, my hands were tied to discuss it with her. Franklin and I don’t discuss business in conversation with anyone outside the company, and yet I trust Zara. The urge to impart the information about the future of the company out of guilt is a foreign emotion. I have to remind myself it won’t affect her, and when decisions are made, we’ll have a quiet conversation.

My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I check it without apology.

I won’t get home until 8 p.m. Sorry.

I tap a reply.

8 p.m. is perfect.

My thoughts shift away from the meeting to something more interesting—planning my night with Zara.

14

ZARA

After three weeks apart,Jobe is back, and my thoughts are all over the place. Do I want to go home and have the sight of him tempt me to imagine all the ways he can pleasure me? Ignite my ovaries like no other man can? How can I hate a man and yet be equally attracted to him? And now said man wants to take me to dinner.

God help me.

It is easier to despise him.

Instead of going straight to the penthouse after work, I head to the old-time pub in Piccadilly to clear my head. I love this pub. It reminds me of the carefree feeling I had when I arrived in London. Before I reach the bar, I recognize Oscar standing with another guy.

“Big O,” I call out and then hug him.

Oscar introduces me to his friend, Baron, as Hollywood. Baron appears unimpressed with my intrusion and leaves usto head outside and stand with the other suits on the sidewalk.

“Did I offend him?” I ask.

Oscar shakes his head. “He’s an old flame. One I shouldn’t rekindle,” he says as though he’s already resigned to the fact he will.

“So it was perfect timing?”

“Something like that,” he offers with a laugh. “How have you been?”

“Okay. I need a drink to clear my head before going home.”

“Are you still at that overpriced hotel?”

“No. I’m living with… it’s complicated. Give me a minute.” I order a drink and down some of my gin before continuing. “Do you remember the guy from LA?”

“The jealous one?”

“Not jealous, bossy.”

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