I saw Scarlett smile at Charles fucking Hall. I haven’t seen that flattered, genuine smile in years. The first time I saw it was shortly after I ran into her in a bar, and I had to work for it. That asshole got one out of her in just a few minutes with hardly any effort at all.

In the elevator, I avoid looking at her, though I watch her wavy reflection in the metal doors. As the elevator ascends, she takes in a shaky breath and lets it out slowly, wiggling her hands at her sides.

My attitude softens slightly. “It’ll be okay,” I say with as much gentleness as I can. “Anastasios wants to meet you, that’s all.”

“I’m not worried about him,” she mutters.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I almost draw blood. “Nervous for your date, then?” I spit out the word “date” so hard that I’m surprised she doesn’t react to it.

Scarlett simply flicks her blue eyes to me as she sucks on her teeth. “It’s not a date. He wants to talk about writing.” She pauses, then adds, “I can’t write in a vacuum, Ryan. Recent events have proven that.”

If I could pull her into a hug right here in my workplace, I would, but the elevator pings, signaling we’ve arrived at our floor. This woman can shatter my heart into a million tiny shards that pierce me again and again with their sharp edges. I want this for her. Truly, I do. But she’s kidding herself if she thinks Hall isn’t after something else. He hasn’t signed with us yet, but the publishing world is small, and I’ve heard enough about him to know what he’s about.

We both stand there for a second too long, and the elevator doors close again. Scarlett sighs and turns to face me. “I get it. You want to shelter me from the worst parts of this job.” She swallows audibly, then licks her lips. “You’ve always tried to do that for me.”

I huff, almost defeated. “I failed.”

“You absolutely did not.” She says it with such conviction, with such a fire in her eyes, that I go completely still. “You did not fail me,” she repeats, punctuating each word. “That was…it was out of our control in a lot of ways.”

“I pushed for that deal,” I practically whisper, my words fighting their way out around a swell of emotion. “I thought more money would make it easier on you. You could hire someone to help, or…” I trail off and shrug. It doesn’t matter. “And now you’re here, having this meeting you shouldn’t need to have.” And meeting hulky men in the lobby and going to dinner with them later when she should be mine. But I don’t say that part aloud.