I stop chuckling and wipe my eyes. I’m looking forward to this meeting with my father. It’s time I moved past the past.

“Did the Duporte lawyers contact you about the merger falling apart?”

“What?” Justin asks. He drops his face into his hands and moans. “Will, what have you been doing?”

Guess not.

“You realize this means you get to rack up billable hours, right? You should be breaking out the champagne at your windfall. A takeover attempt and a merger failure all in one day. Happy times for lawyer-kind.”

Justin lifts his head. “Who are you and where is the real Will Williams? The real Will is a scary efficient, robotic genius who doesn’t understand humor. What have you done with him?”

I smile, but it’s covering a sharp pain. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to go back to how I was, or if opening up to Jessie changed me forever. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, ignoring Justin’s comment.

It shouldn’t take too long to get rid of an army of lawyers. While I’m at it I can forget about Jessie. Or at least practice not thinking about her every minute of every day.

It’s early morning when I arrive at the London office. The city is covered in a wet, gray, misty rain. The streets are full of puddles and water run-off and everyone but me has an umbrella. Which means that when I step into the conference room, I’m damp and chilled.

I look around the space. Justin was wrong, it’s not an army of lawyers, merely fifteen to twenty. I’m certain that only one of them has been practicing long enough to be a senior partner. I focus on him.

“Leave us,” I say.

The older lawyer glances at my father.

My father, who I’d avoided looking at, nods. The lawyer gestures to his team of colleagues and they file out of the conference room.

I stand stone still, my hands folded behind my back, as they file past me. The last one out closes the door. Finally, I shift my gaze to my father. I haven’t seen him since his last takeover attempt before my twenty-first birthday. His hair is thinning at the edges and turning silver. I remember with some surprise that he turned sixty this year. He’s not as large as I remember and his presence doesn’t have the same effect on me anymore.

“Well, I’m here,” I say. “What now? The usual? You make threats with your lawyers. I make threats back. I win, you go back to Dubai and your mistress for another few years?”

My father doesn’t seem to hear. He’s taking in my appearance, cataloging all the details, like a man who thought he’d seen his last sunrise but is finally seeing another.