“I don’t have time for a man.” I’d been saying that a lot lately, but nobody believed me. I hadn’t even had time to catch up with Trey about his stupid text yet. “I had the magazine interview this morning, and then I’ve been here since, setting up tonight’s auction.”

I had minutes before the guests would be arriving, and I didn’t want to spend those minutes with Diya, talking about men. When she’d walked in, I’d been about to call my grandmother to ask her about the green diary.

Diya sloshed soy milk into her coffee, careful of her shimmering turquoise dress. Designer wrap dresses were her uniform like mine were black suits. She dressed to fit in with the celebrity clients she handled. Trey dealt with the politicians. I was the auctioneer.

Diya checked the door over my shoulder as she moved to the food table. “How many new events did we sign this week?”

“Two.” Not enough. “If we survive the next couple of months, the midterm elections might save us. We could be rolling in new contracts.”

She picked up a plate, then put it back down, carefully not looking at me. “If we have to, I’m okay with dissolving the business.”

Ah. Trey had already talked to her. Of course, he had. They’d been together while I’d been in New York. I tried my best not to feel as if they’d banded together against me. I tamped down my resentment.

“I don’t want to dissolve.” I mentally choked the idea with both hands. “We can fix our problems.” I backed toward the door. “I have to go and greet guests.” A successful auction house was built on relationships and referrals.

Diya glanced past me again, and from the relief in her eyes, I knew what was coming. “Trey!”

Trey dropped a kiss on Diya and gave her a raspy, chick-flick-movie-quality “Hey.” He barely spared me a glance. “Emsley.”

I refused to let it hurt.

He was California tousled-blond, tall and lanky, preppy geek in all the right ways. Used to be mine. But while my head was always in the business, Diya paid attention to people. And Trey liked attention.

I refused to let it hurt.

I led an organized life divided into two columns: Building the Business and Time Away from Business. TAFB.

All things TAFB were to be avoided.

And then another girl snagged my guy. Surprise.

I refused to let it hurt.

“Everything ready?” Trey inhaled the aroma wafting off our cups. “Let me grab some black gold.”

I didn’t tell him that black gold was a reference to crude oil. The less we talked pre-auction, the less he’d get on my last nerve.