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I can sense the conflict inside her. The war that plays out as her brows knit and she licks at her bottom lip as if to taste remnants of my kiss.

The second passes and she snaps forward, shoving at my chest.

“I need to get off this elevator!”

Portia presses the buttons to open the door and then darts out into the corridor. She’s quick in her high heels, making her escape before I can stop her.

But it’s okay.

I’m calm accepting her decision. She’s not ready yet to forgive me. She needs more time. Different circumstances. A better setting.

I fish my iPhone out of pants pocket. “Maurizio,” I say, “have the director of the Rise and Thrive Foundation give me a call. I would like to sponsor an event.”

We hang up with me straightening my tie and pressing the elevator button for the ground floor. The meeting at Newport Metro News didn’t go as planned, but I have more cards to play. I’ll always have more moves to make.

I meant what I decided from the moment I first saw her.

There’s no going back. She’s mine and I will always find a way.

9

PORTIA

“Don’tyou think you’re being kinda harsh?” Jayla asks, sawing away at her nails with a nail file.

I’ve come home to the apartment I’m sharing with her and launched into an angry, expletive-filled tangent about my day at work.

But I haven’t even started telling her about the shootout in the meat-packing district. I’ve focused solely on the meeting at the station headquarters.

Rafael Calderone’s surprise appearance. The news he was buying the station like people bought a pack of gum at the store. Him cornering me in the elevator and refusing to let me go.

The kiss I could still feel tingling on my lips.

I round on Jayla with a sharp, accusatory glare. “Being kinda harsh? Do you hear yourself right now, Jay? You do realize who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“Rafael Calderone,” she answers. “How could I forget?”

“Then you remember what he did… and why it’s fuck him forever.”

Jayla pauses in the middle of filing the nail on her ring finger. “I know he really hurt you standing you up the way he did and never calling back.”

“Why would he? He got what he wanted out of me. He just didn’t have the guts to tell me to my face. So he pretended he still wanted to see me again,” I say, pacing back and forth through our living room. My knee collides with the coffee table, making me howl in pain and hop on one foot.

“See, you’re getting yourself worked up. You need to chill.”

“I’ll chill once I’ve found a new job.”

“You’re really going to quit because he’s buying the station?”

“Do I have any other option?” I ask, limping to the couch and plopping down. “He’s clearly trying to fuck with me. I’m not playing his games and I’m not dealing with him accosting me in elevators either.”

“Okay, let’s just breathe and think a second.” Jayla sets the nail file down on the coffee table and sits up beside me like she needs the second or two to ease me into what she’s about to say. “Don’t you think maybe you should hear him out? Just once before you write him off?”

I scoff at the suggestion. “You mean like how he had plenty of time to reach out after he stood me up? I was staying in his loft for days after.”

“Maybe there was a personal emergency he had to take care of.”

“That prevented him from ever calling or texting me? That excuse could’ve worked fifty years ago, but we’re in the age of technology. It takes ten seconds to contact someone.” Both of my brows raise, the skepticism dripping from me.