In Hell. I don’t bite. I know she’ll be worried. I drag myself to my feet and start the long walk back to my rental. “Running.”

“Why is her car at The Manor?”

I bristle. I’d forgotten about her car. She’s not collected it? Will she ever collect it? “Drop it, Sarah.” Her huff of indignation rattles me more. I’m still blaming her for fucking it all up for me. “I’ll be at The Manor later. Go back. I’m sure you’ll survive without me until then.” I hang up, and the small pang of guilt only serves to piss me off more. Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of amid all of this uncertainty, it’s that Sarah really can’t survive without me.

I pull up at The Manor just past noon. John is in the driveway talking to a man in a white van, pointing at the cameras that line the front of The Manor. “Hard drive’s fucked,” he mutters as I approach, turning away from the guy and looking me up and down, assessing me. I look smart. I made a point of looking smart in an attempt to halt the barrage of questions that I know are awaiting me. I’m fine. Totally fine.

I pass him without a word, bypassing the bar and striding to my office. I walk in and close the door, finding a suit bag hanging on the back. I frown, my lagging brain failing to enlighten me. I reach forward and pull the zip down, and it finally comes to me before the navy suit is revealed. The Lusso launch tomorrow. I let out a light, sardonic puff of laughter. I think we can safely say I won’t be welcome.

“Jesse?”

The door flies open.

And smacks me in the face.

“Fuck,” I yell, the wood ricocheting off my forehead.

“Shit. Sorry.” She’s on me like a wolf, checking me over. “Why the hell are you standing behind the door?”

I bat her fussing hands away and rub my nose, checking for blood. Shit, my eyes are watering. “I was checking my new suit,” I grumble, going to the couch and sitting down, holding my throbbing nose. “If you’ve broken my fucking nose, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she asks tiredly, halting my empty threat in its tracks. She closes the door and checks out my suit. “Nice. Special occasion?”

“No, I just fancied a new suit.” Or a new mask. I glare at her back. “Did you want something?”

She turns slowly. I don’t like the thoughtful look on her face. “Something’s been playing on my mind.”