I sit back, watching as three young men act like little boys, knowing when they step out, they’ll go back to their worlds, and I’ll be here in mine.

Since they were children, they have fought for each other.

What it must be like to have someone in your corner.

I’m simply a charm dangling from a solid gold necklace, one appraised by my very own mother and traded by her just the same.

But it’s for the best.

It fits my plan and helps my family, writes my future.

I won’t have to think, plan, or prep.

I don’t have to open myself up to false hope and broken promises.

To heartache and pain.

I simply have to be.

A low sigh leaves me, and I nod to myself.

It’s for the best.

After a night of no sleep, it took a miracle to get myself presentable by Anthony’s standards, so I had no energy left to put time into my outfit, so I kept it fault-free with a black pantsuit and shoes to match.

It’s perfectly basic. Anthony should approve.

I slip by the reception desk as I begin to curve around the corner; I pass a coffee station and slow at the sight of the lovely latte button.

Scanning the area, I spot the cups and pull one from the top, placing it over the big red circle, but when I push the button, nothing happens.

“Can I help?”

I spin to find a young woman with brown hair and eyes to match.

“You mind?”

She smiles and steps up; within a minute, I’m thanking her and headed for Anthony’s office.

He’s on the phone when I enter, his back to me, so I round the room, coming up in front of him and his smile alone makes for a nice night.

Placing the call on hold, he lowers his cell to the desk and steps around it. He grabs my hand, kissing my knuckles and his smile grows wider.

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine. Today has been a shitstorm.” He chuckles. “Mind if I finish this call, it will only be another ten minutes or so?”

I lower myself into his chair, a tall back, mohair with molded wood, and place my hands along the fine shine of his desktop. “Do as you need, Mr. Blanca,” I tease—playful banter is the second ‘must do’ on my mother’s list, and with the way his eyelids lower, I’d say I’m not so bad at it.

He slips closer, grabbing my shoulders from behind, and leans toward my ear. “Thank you, Ms. Filano. I have a feeling you and I will be explosive.” My eyes shoot forward.

Well, that was a first.