Page 39 of Manhattan State of Mind

I meet his gaze evenly. “It’s about business—expanding our portfolio, seeking new revenue streams. And it’s about me choosing a different lifestyle.”

And hopefully, that lifestyle comes with a side of Lucy.

“And how is she?”

“She’s resilient, as always. Most employees would stay away as long as possible, milk the sick pay.” I clear my throat, emotions making it tough. “But I’m keeping my distance. Since she doesn’t remember me, it’s not like I can barge back into her life, as much as I’d like to.”

He nods. “Do we have to worry about a lawsuit on our hands?”

“Why?”

“Why? You fuck an employee, and she falls down the stairs. Don’t ask me why, JP.”

My fists clench involuntarily at his words. “We don’t have to worry about a lawsuit. It was an accident.”

Connor grunts, clearly not convinced. “Accidents tend to have a nasty habit of becoming lawsuits. Especially when they involve a billionaire, a spiraling staircase, and a lover’s quarrel.”

I bristle. Salt, meet wound. I have no desire to dredge up the events of that night at the Plaza Hotel, to untangle the ugly, twisted mess it was.

“You know there’s a rumor going around that you pushed her down the stairs,” Connor says, his casual tone making the words hit harder.

I snap to attention. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He chuckles, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just the messenger. Seems like the marketing gals have an insatiable appetite for gossip.”

“And why are they sharing it with you, of all people?” My voice takes on a hard edge.

A smirk stretches across his face. “Guess I’m just more approachable than you two.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache brewing. “Jesus Christ.”

The last thing I need is for Lucy to catch wind of these ridiculous rumors.

I’m no angel, but to suggest I’d push her down the stairs? That’s a new low, even for the office gossipmongers. Usually, I would shrug off the slander—let the corporate hyenas feast on the bones of my reputation. But with Lucy… this isn’t just about me anymore.

Connor chuckles. “I told them you didn’t do it. My theory is she passed out from an overdose of your aftershave.”

I feel a prickling heat crawl up my neck. Maybe I’ve been overzealous in trying to make myself appealing to Lucy again. She’s always loved this particular scent.

Second day into Lucy’s return to work, and I’m already on damage control. Instead of buying roses and planning candle-lit dinners, I’m swatting off rumors of attempted homicide.

As if I don’t already have enough buried scandals to deal with.

A sinking realization claws at my gut as the weight of Connor’s words settles over me. I’ve got one hell of a battle on my hands—a battle against time, rumors, and my own damned knack for self-destruction. And the clock is ticking.

ELEVEN

Lucy

I’ve officially survived nearly two full days back at work after my accident, and while my memory is still MIA, at least the stares and whispers have dialed back. For now, I’m just focusing on catching up and proving to everyone—despite Wolfe’s unexpected leniency—that I haven’t forgotten how to do my job.

I’m so intent on responding to emails that I don’t notice my legs have gone numb until Angry Andy walks by.

“Andy,” I call, causing him to pause. “Thanks for visiting me in the hospital. It was really nice of you.”

He grunts in response, hating emotional exchanges.

I smile. I nearly rolled off the bed when Mom told me my boss visited.