Page 6 of Stay for Me

My mouth watered.

“Um. Sir?” she called, her brow pinched with worry.

“Langston’s not here,” I grunted.

“I gathered that—”

“Don’t know when he’ll be back,” I informed her, the sound of my own voice unfamiliar to me. This was the first time I’d spoken more than one or two words in weeks.

She looked up to the house, wrapping her arms around herself, her teeth chattering. I didn’t know who this woman was to Denver, but she needed her ass spanked for not wearin’ a fuckin’ coat.

“You need a coat,” I grumbled.

Her head snapped back to me, eyes wide, cheeks red. “I have one in the car.”

I gave her nothing else, needing to get away from her.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

I stared at her, knowing the probability of me seeing her again was low, so I decided right then I would give her this and only this. She would have my name only. “Mags.”

“Mags,” she repeated softly, testing it.

It was then I knew.

It was then my short lived peace came crashing down around me, revealing to me a new version of hell I hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing yet.

The universe wanted me dead, and it couldn’t kill me in the war. So now, as penance, whoever the hell was up there ruining my life decided to show me what heaven was supposed to look like, dangling it in front me, teasing me—torturing me.

It was then I knew I would never know peace because I could never have her.

Chapter One

Diana

End of July.

“Myclienthasmadetheir demands. If you want to negotiate, we can set something up, but yelling at me over the phone isn’t going to get you anywhere,” I said, leaning back in my chair, darting my eyes up to the ceiling. The pain in the back of my skull hadn’t lessened since nine this morning, my stomach was growling, and I desperately needed some water.

I didn’t—no, I shouldn’t be dealing with this asshole on the phone.

Today was supposed to be an easy day.

Yoga at eight.

Get to the office by nine thirty.

Work until one.

Lunch.

Meeting at three.

Hallow ranch at four thirty for an in-person meeting with Valerie Langston.

That was my day, planned out in my color-coded pink Filofax.

Due to the lightness in my schedule, I’d been looking forward to this day for over month. Today, I would actually get to sit down and eat my lunch, savoring it instead of scarfing half of it down and throwing the rest away, going about the rest of the afternoon with a burnt tongue. I usually didn’t have time to eat. Between client meetings and court appearances, I barely had time to think about anything else other than my firm.

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