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I shouldn’t have kissed her. But that’s a minor mistake, and I won’t deepen it.

“What the fuck do you want, Xander? I’m busy.”

“And as pleasant as ever. Hopefully, this news will cheer you up…”

“Impossible.” Declan walks in.

Where the fuck is Larissa? I don’t have an open-door policy. Quite the contrary.

“You’re probably right.” Xander snorts. “Anyway, Donovan complained AetherTech is not taking their calls. I guess Vlad is keeping his promise to stall for two months.”

Declan nods. “That’s why I’m here. How much do you want to send to Vlad’s charity?”

“Let’s wait for that. Betsy finally got me the invitation to his fundraiser—it got lost in the mail.” I clasp my hands behind my head, leaning back. Lost, my ass. But if Vladislav expected to be rid of me, he was mistaken.

“I guess it’s smart to wait. We’ll adjust the donation to his expectations once you see what others throw his way.”

“Yeah, the event is in two weeks. Hopefully, by then, he will be mollified enough by my recovered image.”

Xander snorts again. “So how is the wedding planning?”

“Let’s focus on business. Vlad said he doesn’t like how long it’s taking to sign the deal, and then he suggested he’d stall to ensure our involvement.” I tap my fingers on the table.

“Motherfucker.” Xander immediately picks up on my line of thinking. “You think he’s talking to another firm?”

“I think you should shower.” I glare at him. “And then find out who might be courting AetherTech.”

“Excuse me.” Larissa pops her head in. “Betsy Ham is on the phone, claiming it’s urgent.”

I sigh. “Put her through.”

Declan sits beside Xander like this is a fucking theater. “Do you mind?” I snap.

“Unless you start paying her from your own pocket, put her on speaker,” Declan says. He raises his eyebrow, daring me.

“The vote of confidence is duly noted.” I press the answer button. “Betsy, Xander and Declan are here with me. What’s so urgent?”

“Things have been going so well, and you can’t keep your fiancée on the leash, Corm?”

“Careful there, Betsy.” I have had enough of this woman’s patronizing attitude. How dare she talk about Saar like this?

“We have a crisis on our hands,” she snaps. “Your fiancée—”

“Watch your tone, Ham. You found her, not me.” I’m not sure why I bother reminding her.

It’s like my mind wants to avoid whatever she wants to say. Because as much as I want to stay away from Saar, I don’t want more reasons to do so.

“Have you seen Saar’s social media?”

Why would I? “No.”

Xander pulls out his phone and whistles.

“I suggest you read her last post. It went viral. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I suggest you ask her to pull it down immediately.”

What the fuck? I gesture to Xander, who comes over and turns his phone to me.

The image rams into me like a freight train. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Sitting on the bench in the window of my house, she looks small and lost but also like she belongs.