Bargaining with the Boss (Honeybrook Love, Inc. 2)

Natalie closed the door only to find Eliza staring up at her, her ear still pressed to the wall behind her.

"Hey there, you," Eliza said.

"Whatcha doing?" Natalie crossed her arms over her chest.

"You know, I um, thought I heard a mouse in the wall. So I was checking."

"Right." Natalie nodded. Any other time, she might have stood there and lingered. She might have even been upset by Eliza's meddling, but right now she had more important things on her mind.

Namely how she was going to get out of this gala on Saturday.

It wasn't like Brooks needed her to go. He just wanted her there.

Then again, he was putting the company at risk to take on Franco's case and they both knew he wouldn't be doing all that if it weren't for her.

"So, I took the liberty of picking you up some cigarettes. You know, for after." Eliza winked, and then opened the desk drawer beside her to pull out said package.

Natalie flicked them off the desk.

"If you tell your sister what you heard, you're dead."

"As if she doesn't already know."

"How—?"

"Garret, of course. But don't worry. She's happy for you. She said you deserve to be with someone, even if that someone is Brooks." Eliza laughed, and when Natalie didn't join her, she cleared her throat.

"I think she meant it as a joke."

"Right." She sighed. Okay, so Rachael knew about her and Brooks. Garret, too. That was good news in a way. When the office found out about them after the gala...

"Hey, I'm going to head back to my desk. Let me know if you need anything."

Eliza saluted her and Natalie trudged off, trying to find one main focus that wasn't the stupid gala.

And Dominic.

The odds of his being there were slim, especially if Franco knew she'd be there, but there was still the off chance she might catch a glimpse of him through the crowd. Or worse, that he might catch a glimpse of her.

She ran her fingers through her hair.

It was brown now, not blonde as it had been then. A few years had passed. She looked different. Maybe even unrecognizable.

And if not, that's what the restraining order was for, right? He wouldn't dare talk to her in the middle of all those people, for all the world to see.

She swallowed hard, then pulled the lot of roses out of the vase and threw them in the trash along with his stupid note.

Mi amor,

Come back to me. I've changed. I would never—

That's as far as she'd ever read. The sight of his handwriting always brought a fresh wave of bile to the back of her throat, and the smell of the damned roses kept it there all day long.

Like a constant reminder that he knew where she was. That he could find her if he wanted to. But throwing the damn things out would bring too much attention to her.

So she just sat there, day in and day out, waiting until he finally gave up.

Which, if their history was any indication, might be south of never.