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“Not yet. The sender’s email address was a bust. Whoever sent the photo doubled up with a VPN and a proxy server. My tech guy’s still working on it, though.”

“And the photo?”

“Same. Got an expert analysis taking a closer look.”

“I don’t know if this is important, but Monica wanted me to hire someone she knows as my PA. She was very insistent, and furious when I told her I already filled the position.”

“You got a name for me?”

“Lydia Hirsch.” I spell it out for him. “Maybe there’s something there.”

“I’m on it.”

“Let me know when you’ve got something.”

I end the call and rise to stand in front of the windows. The sidewalks are busy, the streets busier. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, but I feel one hovering over my life. As I watch a ferry make its way across Elliot Bay, I think of how there’s someone out there who wanted me to know about Monica’s affair. Someone who captured her betrayal in a photo but left behind no evidence in our condo. My instincts tell me the digital footprint of that email will lead back to the asshole who’s fucking my wife.

10. Double Trouble - Jules

Cash put me to work after I returned from HR. He gave me a quick tour of the thirty-eighth floor before showing me the office I’d be working in for the foreseeable future…assuming my employment here works out.

That was four days ago, and so far, I’ve managed to do my job without tripping all over myself. My workspace is the next room over from his corner office, and knowing he’s on the other side of that wall has been more distracting than is good for productivity.

Thank God it’s Friday. A little distance is exactly what I need to get ahold of myself after this whirlwind week. Once I’m finished handling his schedule, fielding phone calls, and running errands, I spend the remainder of the day sorting emails and coordinating travel plans. The fact that he’s going to Oklahoma City soon squeezes my heart a little—it’s an unwanted reminder of the heartbreak I left behind in Whiskey Flats.

The end of the day arrives quicker than I expect it to, and I’m heading toward the door to Cash’s office when I spot him exiting the elevator. The sight of him is still a shock to my system, and I let my attention fall to the file in my hands.

“I compiled the info you wanted,” I say, holding out the folder. “Is there anything else you want me to do before I go?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, and that prompts me to raise my eyes to his. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was silently laughing at me.

“I’m sure I can come up with a few ideas,” he says, his teasing tone throwing me off.

“Um…okay. I can stick around if you need…” I trail off, taking in his black T-shirt. “You changed your clothes.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. Cheeks flaming, I shoot a surreptitious glance around us, thankful that most people have already gone home, no doubt eager to begin the weekend.

“You seem like an observant girl,” he says, his mouth curving into a grin that puts that irresistible dimple on display, “but I’m pretty sure this is the same shirt and jeans I put on this morning.”

Is he fucking with me?

I narrow my eyes and study him. Something is definitely off. No, something ismissing.

Widening his grin, he holds out a hand. “I’m Kaden, the boss man’s brother, and you must be new.”

I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open, so I force it shut as I slide my hand into his. And that’s the instant I know; he’s definitely not Cash because the electric shock I get from touching my new boss is absent.

“I’m sorry,” I say, breaking the handshake. “I didn’t know he had a twin brother.”

“No need to apologize. It’s a mistake people often make.”

“Well, I can see that happening a lot. The two of you are nearly identical.” Identical except for the way they each affect me.

“Nearly…as in I’m better looking?” He’s still smiling, obviously teasing, but I’m struck with how different he is from Cash. He’s openly playful, where his brother’s sense of humor is hidden under layers of intensity and a serious demeanor.

And Kaden’s eyes might be the same stormy color as Cash’s, but they don’t smolder. They don’t send my heart into palpitations with a single glance.

Footsteps sound behind me, and I sense Cash before he speaks. “Youwishyou were better looking,” he ribs his brother, and I wonder if the presence of him will ever stop tingling down my spine. “I see you’ve met Jules.” His palm grazes my lower back, and the contact is light and brief—the type of touch acquaintances share without a second thought. The fleeting warmth of Cash’s hand shouldn’t make me clench my thighs together, but that’s what the brush of his fingers does to me. Even worse, I’m not sure if he realized he touched me at all.

“We haven’t met officially, but I’m sure she’d like to stab me since I let her think I was you for a minute. Sorry, little brother. Couldn’t help myself.”