“I guess it was all right.”

I pinch him, and he steals my hand. Brings it to his lips. “Can you get in touch with Seb?” I ask. “If you’re only staying through tomorrow, it’d be nice if we made the most of it. We could go back to Isola Bella in the morning.”

“I would love that.” Without letting go of me, he twists around and grabs his phone, switching it on for the first time since the morning.

The barrage of notifications—texts, emails, and something else that could be the company Slack—pops up so chaotically, my brain cannot help reflexively taking in a few of them.

There are some issues with the CTO they wanted to appoint.

I wasn’t able to reach Avery or you—know about the wedding, just wondering if all is good.

Wow, volcanic eruption.

Any reason you are not picking up?

When will you be back? Davida wants to set a meeting.

Hark, your EA is in my office crying because he couldn’t get in touch with you.

We reached Minami; you are no longer needed.

Man, the fucking CIM Calatrava just sent around

Are you dead? Because people are calling dibs on your office.

We share a look. I unwrap the marzipan we just nearly squished, trying my best not to laugh. “Wow, Conor. Your life sounds…”

His eyebrow lifts.

“…delightful.”

“Hey. My hard labor paid for that.” His chin points at the cherry-shaped ball I’m sinking my teeth into.

“And no lack of work-life balance has ever tasted better,” I say, chewing.

Texts are still delivering. The amount of scrolling he has to do to get to his messages with Seb has me feeling a little nauseous.

“It’s a miracle, I think.”

“What?”

“That you used to reply to every single one of my texts.” I take another bite. Let the sweetness of the almond paste linger on my tongue. “Is it normal for senior management to work this much?”

“It’s an active deal period,” he says, a broken record. I wait, patient, until he sighs, “No.”

“Do you still have people snooping around all your messages and giving you digests?”

“Sometimes.” Another sigh. “Yeah.”

“Good to know. Then I won’t send you nudes or lewd sonnets. I’d rather not sexually harass your underpaid, under-benefited assistants.”

“They are extremely well paid, and you know very well that we give good health insurance.” He rubs his eyes for a while, until I’m sure he must see bright spots. “I could work on this,” he says. Then corrects himself. “I will work on this.”

“Hm?”

“Being more available. Being present. Senior management load.”

I fight back a yawn. “I fully plan to make every second away from me miserable for you.”

A breathless exhale that’s not quite laughter. “It already is.”

“No, I mean…Even more.” The room is warm, and the sugar makes me sluggish. “You’ll be shocked at how amazing it is, to be in a relationship with me. I’m so interesting and fun and not at all unhinged. I’ll blow your mind.” I burrow into him. “And your body, of course.”