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Dammit. I spent hours on this.

Hours that Celine would’ve preferred me quadruple-checking things for the Kelton project instead. I am really starting to hate the whole thing.

Our team went through countless revisions for the logo and brand kit of Kelton Hotels’ new North American flagship concept, the Kelton Honors Lounge, a luxurious member’s only lounge that will be integrated into their key hotels across the world.

It sounds more like a rich-boy club.

We ate, slept, and breathed concept upon concept until we found the perfect shade of gold and blue for a logo that Mr. Kelton kept pushing back the smallest revisions on. I’d gone cross-eyed tweaking the L in the logo until it was the perfect swoop. There was never a concept we sent where he didn’t have some sort of edit to make. Granted, the final branding is stunning, but that doesn’t mean I like the guy.

I’ve yet to meet Mr. Kelton, but apparently, he is hot enough that every time Jenna had an appointment with him, she came back smiling, despite the miniscule adjustments he’d asked for to a design we’d already been twenty-three revisions deep on.

I love Jenna, but she isn’t the best team leader. She’s been working at Delute for eight years, though, so the odds of me ever getting promoted into a higher position like hers are slim. It is more likely that Mike would pop out of the ether and ask me on another date. That is one of the issues of being such a small company; promotions are hard to come by. I’ve made it to junior designer, but that doesn’t mean much here—half of us are at that level and stuck there for the foreseeable future.

I’d kill for a promotion. Not only would I finally be able to head my own projects, but the extra money would help out astronomically. As it is, Hannah foots a majority of our rent. She says it is fine because she has the larger bedroom and her job pays better, but it still makes me feel bad whenever we get the payment reminder in our rental portal.

I let out a groan and sink farther down in the chair, causing it to roll backward a couple of inches.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Imani squeezes my shoulder.

“Is it?”

“Yes. Your team will knock the Kelton project out of the park, and then Celine will let you guys do whatever you want. That contract is basically a golden ticket.”

“But the deal.” I flail a hand, gesturing at the presentation glaring on my laptop.

Imani shuts the lid and then grabs my hand, hauling me to my feet.

“Enough. You’re a boss bitch. Another contract will come along.”

Imani was in the same intern cohort as me, and we had soldiered our way through the last three years at Delute side by side. Every day I wish we were on the same team.

She loops her arm through mine and steers us back into the bullpen.

“Come on, let’s grind for another two hours, and then I’ll take us out for drinks.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

CULLEN

Itoss my suit jacket and tie onto the couch, dropping my leather backpack to the floor. A deep sigh leaves my lungs, with the weight of a thousand pounds.

What a long fucking day.

Between setting everything up for the move, the issues with my lawyer, and getting ghosted by Clifton Bank, it is a headache in the making.

I’d known this would be the case, that the second I decided to move back to the city, the peace from the last couple of years would come to an end. There are benefits to returning home—but I know the risks involved too.

What I hadn’t foreseen was Verity.

Something about that woman is different. She is like a refreshing breeze during a heatwave, blasting into the hectic hell of my life with a sunshiny dose of serotonin. I am already craving the next time I see her, counting down the days to our next date.

I haven’t wanted someone like this in years.Fuck, I’d honestly started to worry that I would never get this desperate urge for another person ever again. A dark part of my soul had been convinced that life had given me my one shot at romance only for it to blow up like a nuclear bomb and leave me scarred for eternity—the radiation warding off any potential love.

I fill a glass tumbler with a few fingers of whiskey and weave through the piles of boxes in my apartment to the balcony door. The spring breeze in Miami is a lot warmer than in the city, and the ocean view from my apartment is one I am going to miss.

At least I sold it for a nice chunk of cash. I’d considered renting it out, but I have two other rental properties I am managing right now, and I’m not exactly in the mood to deal with more people. I have enough crap on my plate as it is.

I take a sip of the spicy amber liquid, letting it coat my throat with a mild but welcome burn.