Page 143 of The Plus One Contract

And there he is.

Nathan Calloway.

Standing in the doorway.

My finance guy.

Fifty-Three

Nathan

Ibarely register Julian’s voice through my laptop speakers, the hum of his words lost in the rush of my thoughts. I’m already somewhere else—with someone else—so when he drones on about investor updates and next-quarter expansions, I stand, shrug into my coat, and roll my shoulders against the weight pressing in on me.

Julian narrows his eyes from the screen. “What’s the rush?”

I button my coat, ignoring the tightness in my chest. This plan might be bold as hell, but the schedule for it has been locked in place since the moment I reached out to Harper, which was about an hour after I first landed in Chicago six weeks ago. That’s when I realized I needed to fix everything I had left in pieces back in California.

“I’m a busy man,” I mutter, snagging my phone from the desk.

He tilts his head, grinning in that smug, half-amused way only he can manage. “You’re going after her, aren’t you?”

I don’t hesitate. “Damn right I am.”

He punches the air. “Fuck yes. Also, can you let her know that the job offer is still open?”

I glare and exit the call without bothering to say goodbye. Julian’s laughter echoes in my headset as the screen goes dark. I don’t have time for this.

Miriam—sharp as ever—is waiting at the door when I step out of my office, tablet in hand, gaze steady and professional. She’s been on my payroll for five years. She knows my moods better than I do.

“She has a meeting until eleven,” Miriam says, falling into step beside me as we head for the elevators. “I’ve coordinated with Harper. She’ll ensure Miss Blake is in her office when you arrive.”

I nod, adjusting my cuffs. “And the rest?”

“Handled.” She scrolls through her tablet. “Your morning calls have been postponed until Monday, and the driver is downstairs waiting.”

I take a step into the elevator, but Miriam lingers in the corridor. Her expression softens for a second with an unguarded flicker I rarely see.

“I also took the liberty of booking dinner for two at The Silver Swan tonight, assuming it goes well.” Her lips twitch in the faintest hint of a smile. “And if not, I’ll leave a bottle of whiskey on your desk for when you get back.”

I exhale, jaw clenching under a dozen different emotions. “Thank you,” I say, voice low.

Her eyes glint. “Good luck, sir.”

“I’ve told you to just call me Nathan.”

She taps a foot against the floor. “And for five years, I’ve ignored that request.”

The elevator doors glide shut, leaving me alone with the pounding of my heart. My reflection stares back from the mirrored walls—tensed jaw, eyes dark with resolve. I blow out a breath as I descend floor by floor, the city waiting below.

Time to go get my girl.

Fifty-Four

Sienna

My knees threaten to buckle as I stand, breath catching in my throat. Harper squeezes my arm—a silent offering of courage—before slipping out, leaving me alone with him.

Tall, broad, devastatingly familiar, but he’s not the same. Not immaculate. Not untouchable. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, his tie slightly askew, the usual sharpness in his presence is frayed. He looks like a man who hasn’t slept, hasn’t taken a proper breath in weeks.

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