I let out a ghost of a laugh, bending forward to give another glance through the paperwork I’d written up for this impromptu meeting with Jude.

“Look, I know I haven’t done much—”

“What are you talking about, Roman? You’ve done everything. When I told you Lailah and I wanted to move across the country to set up a West Coast division so that we could start a life here in California, you didn’t hesitate. You just took over. And you’ve done an amazing job.”

“I know that,” I replied. “But that’s not what I meant. What I meant to say is, I know I haven’t done much to grow the company… to mold it into something that is truly ours. Up until now, I’ve basically been doing what Dad taught us to do.”

“Make money,” we both said in unison.

“Exactly,” I said. “And it’s killing me. I thought it would be enough, knowing I was prolonging the life of this company, but damn, Jude, I fucking hate it. But this is the one part of the job that isn’t so bad. It’s not much.”

“It’s not much?” Jude scoffed. “Roman, this is huge. If this gets out, we’ll be one of the most sought-after companies in the world.”

I shrugged, knowing full well he couldn’t see me. “It’s just a compensation plan.”

“It’s more than that. You’re taking care of our employees. You’re making them our first priority. It’s brilliant really. You’ll not only recruit the best and the brightest, but it makes the job of buying out companies less aggressive when we know we’re going to be taking them under our wing and making them a part of the Cavenaugh family, so to speak. I’m really proud of you.

“It was Cara really who gave me the idea. She doesn’t let me settle.”

“A good woman never does.” He laughed. “I’m glad you’ve found yours.”

Just then, my phone beeped, telling me I had another incoming call. I quickly checked the screen, and my forehead furrowed in confusion as Jo’s number appeared.

I hadn’t heard from her in weeks.

Our arrangement had ended even earlier than that, and we weren’t exactly the chatty sort of friends. Not wanting to talk with a former fuck buddy at work, I let it go to voice mail, figuring she’d leave a message if it were important.

Most likely a misdial.

The corner of my mouth turned upward as I remembered one specific butt dial not too long ago.

Cara, believing she was a true New Yorker now, had decided a week or so ago to purchase a brand-new phone. Hers was ancient, something that had been passed down to her in college.