Page 37 of Manhattan State of Mind

“Absolutely! I’m thrilled to be back.” I decide to go on the defensive. “I think you’ve got the wrong impression of me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And what impression do you think I have of you?”

I think of the stupid Daredevil figurine on my desk.

“Well, if I were to hazard a guess… it would be someone who isn’t taking her job seriously.”

His stare darkens, something burning beneath the surface. “You’re way off.”

What the hell does that mean?

My pulse starts running a marathon as an invisible force field of tension seems to spring up around us. It’s electric. Suffocating.

Wolfe opens his mouth to speak again, but an abrupt knock on the glass stops him. My eyes flick up to see Killian Quinn giving Wolfe the stink-eye. I’ve never been so grateful to see the company’s other grumpy co-founder.

Wolfe shoots him a curt nod, then releases a deep sigh. “I need to go, Lucy.”

“Sure,” I reply quickly, seizing the opportunity to put some distance between Wolfe and myself and rush out of the boardroom.

For the next half hour, I struggle to take a decent breath.

TEN

JP

I drag myself into the boardroom to join my business partners, Killian and Connor, my exhaustion embedded in every muscle. Lucy coming back to the office yesterday left me sleepless the entire night.

“You look like you went ten rounds with Tyson in his prime,” Killian quips, eyeing me up and down. The guy never misses a beat.

Coincidentally, the championships are being held in our flagship casino this weekend. And as owner, I should be overseeing the whole production.

“Do I,” I grumble, tossing my Armani jacket on the table, rolling up my sleeves, and collapsing into the plush leather chair. “Couldn’t sleep for shit last night.”

Concern flickers across Killian’s sharp features. “Everything okay, buddy?”

“Just great,” I respond, my voice a steady rumble. Bullshit alert: level ten.

The truth? I spent the previous day watching Lucy navigate her first day back at work. An amnesiac Lucy, oblivious of me and the intense history we share. Then nightfall brought a staring contest with the ceiling, the gears in my brain grinding as I wrestled with this seemingly impossible conundrum. The proverbial rock and hard place had nothing on amnesiac Lucy.

“Need another vacation?” Killian’s query hangs in the tension-laden air, the underlying implication leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

Ha. Some vacation. Most people don’t know that my so-called “R&R” was an intense detox retreat, instead of cocktails and bikini-clad women in Maui. But Killian and Connor knew because I’d been on the brink of complete self-destruction. I’d only been back a couple of days when Lucy’s accident happened.

“I’m good,” I grind out, fighting to keep the weariness from seeping into my voice. “If I need a breather, I’ll sound the alarm.”

“Okay, man,” Connor says. “Just let us know. I know how working with Killian can tip anyone over the edge.”

Killian glares at him.

“Without sounding like a broken record, what I really need”—I exhale heavily—“is to detach myself from the casino industry.” And maybe join a monastery. Perhaps even take up herding yaks in the Himalayas, where I can’t hurt anyone else.

But they already know that. I let the pent-up sigh escape.

Since the inception of the Quinn & Wolfe empire, I’ve been spearheading the casino operation. Casinos weren’t just my business, they were my drug, my adrenaline, my whole goddamn life.

But now, I need an exit.

Vegas is a merciless beast, sucking you dry under the guise of a good time. All it left was the grime, the gritty bits, and a silhouette of the man I wanted to be.