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“She’s faking it!” the balding suit who owned the Ferrari yelled. “Seriously, who is buying this? She’s messing withall of us.”
Mr. Chapman went from sad to mad in a blink. “Shut up, Fletcher.”
“But—”
Mr. Chapman jumped up and stalked over to Fletcher, grabbing his arm and hissing something under his breath.
“Are you really falling for this?” Mr. Overcompensating with a Ferrari asked in a hiss. “This is just some mind game she’s playing now.”
“And why would Emma pretend not to know you?” Hector asked.
Ferrari threw up his hands. “Because they hated each other in high school! Absolutely despised one another. Trust me, this is just the latest and weirdest chapter in a long war.”
Emma’s head was spinning. “High school?” she echoed.
“I said the client is waiting,” Mr. Chapman bit out, glaring at Fletcher.
The bald man tried to stare him down, but Chapman was the alphain the room. Sweating and swearing, Fletcher backed down, stomping out with a huff.
Emma immediately felt better, but her relief was short-lived when Chapman turned back to her, giving her his full attention.
“You don’t remember anything before your accident?” he said, running his fingers through his thick dark hair and swallowing as if this was earth-shattering news. “Not even drama class?”
Emma sucked in a breath as the import of his words sank in. He was serious. He knew her.
She was over a thousand miles away from her hometown in Colorado. This was the fanciest office building in town. How the hell could someone from there be here?
“You were voted most likely to succeed,” Mr. Chapman continued, his face lighting up as if this would jog her fractured memory.
Her expression must have darkened because his happy face died away.
“With me,” he added in a far less enthusiastic voice. “You were voted most likely to succeed with me. We’re in the yearbook together. We graduated in the same class.”
“Are you sure?” Celeste asked. She sounded almost relieved. “I think Miss Mendez must look like your former classmate because I’m fairly certain you’re a few years older.”
Chapman didn’t turn to look away from Emma when he answered.
“I am older,” he confirmed. “She skipped two grades?—”
Oh. Oh God. It was true. They did know each other. Or rather he knew her.
The chair hit the wall as she pushed it back. “I need to go now,” she choked out.
Emma put her head down and headed for the door, ignoring the way Celeste had to physically hold Mr. Chapman back.
The man hated her so much in high school he didn’t want to let her leave his sight.
Chapter Seven
GARRETT
He pulled out the last drawer of Hector’s desk, stacking the manila file folders on the blotter while he ignored the argument brewing at the door.
“You tell him—” Kyle hissed.
“I’m going to,” Hector insisted. But he kept silent as Garrett continued going throughDe Olla’sconfidential papers.
The tattooed and pierced female barista snickered. “Maybe sometime this year.”