Later that day, Carson and I go over the early numbers in my office. He’s nervous, shaking his knee as we chat. “We can stave off ShopForAnything. It’s looking good so far, and I want everything to go well.”

“Yeah, me too.” I give him a curious look. “Hey, are you okay? You seem out of sorts today.”

He sighs heavily. “Yeah, sorry. My mom is starting radiation next week.”

My heart sinks. “Sorry, man. How is she doing? Do you need to take some time off to help her out?”

He shakes his head. “No, she’ll be okay. I just want to make sure everything here launches without a hitch. I can’t afford to let ShopForAnything chase us down right now, know what I mean?”

I nod. I do know. He’s worried about his job. He doesn’t want to lose it at a time like this in his personal life. He doesn’t want us to be stomped on by the competition.

“We are going to crush it,” I say with confidence. Complete and utter confidence.

When he leaves my office, I renew that promise.

“We’re going to crush it,” I say to myself.

That’s the reason I can’t dally around with what happens in two weeks scenarios, and I can’t keep firing off flirty texts to the woman from the masquerade party.

I need to zero in on the goal—leading my company through these rougher waters.

There will be time, eventually, to think about women, about trust, and about falling for someone.

But that time isn’t now.

The trouble is, when I see Sabrina that afternoon at the subway station, I wish she’d stop smiling at me like she was also wanting all the things we can’t have.

15

Sabrina

His green eyes gleam as he walks to me on the sidewalk by the Fifty-first Street subway station. He’s holding something in his hand. I can’t quite tell what it is, since his fist is closed. He stops inches away and for a brief moment, I imagine him kissing me on the cheek, or perhaps embracing me with a hello hug.

My heart beats a little faster. Stupid hopeful thing.

Instead, he simply smiles. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I have something for you.”

“What do you have?”

“I conducted a very daring halo-dismantling mission last night. The wire nearly nicked my hand, and the Monopoly money tried to give me paper cuts, but I soldiered on.” Flynn uncurls his fist and hands me the headband.

I tuck it into my purse. “Thank you. I appreciate you risking life and limb for a hair accessory.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “It’s a favorite of mine.”

“A duke always tackles dangerous tasks for a lady’s lovely hair,” he says and tingles spread down my chest from that private little reminder.

I curtsy and nod in a demure thank you.

His eyes drift toward the subway entrance. “And look. We won’t even have to queue up for the train.” He winks.

I laugh at the reminder of our clandestine exchange last night, as I give him a furtive once-over. It’s hard not to, since I like looking at him so much now that I can see all of him. Of course, I liked looking at him on Sunday night too, even shrouded by the mask. With it removed, he’s so handsome it hurts, but it hurts so good.