relaxed. It was early yet, she had to be braced for Peter’s presence.
Rhiannon tugged at her blazer and straightened her shoulders, then walked in. She surveyed the three individuals, unable to halt the relief that Peter wasn’t one of them.
Or the disappointment that Samson was missing as well.
Tina spotted her first and split off from the group. “Hello, Rhiannon.”
“Hello.”
“I see you got all the glitter out of your hair.”
Rhiannon fluffed her hair and smiled at the teasing. She liked Tina. “It was a trial, but yes.”
“Let me introduce you to some of the other guests.”
Tina led her across the large room to the small group and gestured to a slender, dark-haired young man in his twenties. “This is Rhiannon Hunter, the creator of Crush. Rhiannon, this is—”
“Martin O’Donnell.” Rhiannon nodded at the man.
He grinned, revealing expensive caps. “Have we met?”
“No, but I know of you.” O’Donnell was a vulture, had picked up a couple of smaller regional dating apps recently. If he bought Matchmaker, it would be so he could strip it down, siphon its assets.
On the other end of the spectrum was Chris Hwang, the Asian man in his fifties standing next to Martin. “I know we’ve met.” The lines around Chris’s eyes crinkled, and he inclined his head. British-based, he headed up a powerful conglomerate of apps and sites across Europe. He’d been one of the only people who had reached out to Rhiannon when she’d left Swype, had even offered her a job on his marketing team. She would have seriously considered it, if it hadn’t meant a move to London. She’d been too raw at the time to consider hopping across the pond solely for a job offer from a powerful man, even if that man was as well-respected as Chris. “How are you doing, Rhiannon?”
“Well. Quite well.”
“Rhiannon . . .” Martin tapped his finger over his lip. “Did you used to work at Swype?”
“A long time ago.”
Speculation entered the younger man’s gaze, and Rhiannon knew he must have heard some talk about her. “Uh-huh.”
“Wasn’t that long ago.”
She stiffened at the too-familiar voice behind her. Goddamn it.
She counted to three, with Mississippis in between. He deserved to wait for her time and attention. If there was no one in the room, she’d make him wait longer.
She’d make him wait forever.
She turned, her movements slower than usual, aware that he’d hate having to conform to her time table. The man behind her was tall and lanky. He’d been a swimmer in college, and he’d maintained both his physique and his boyish good looks well into his thirties. His brown hair was sun-kissed, his normally pale skin tanned, which meant he’d probably been on his yacht lately.
She’d been there when Peter had bought his yacht. She’d been so excited for him. They’d had sex on that stupid boat.
This was happening. She’d known it was coming. She was prepared.
She was Charlie fucking Bucket, and she’d kill this.
He didn’t look at all surprised to see her, and she immediately did her best to match his expression. Blasé. Uncaring.
Like this man hadn’t slowly isolated her until she feared she had nothing but him. Like he hadn’t harassed her and made her professional life miserable when she finally managed to break things off. Like he hadn’t started a whisper campaign to smear her name to make sure no one would believe her if she did come forward.
Like he hadn’t forced her out of a company she’d loved, one she’d helped build from the ground up without so much as an iota of credit for her contributions.
A snarl started deep in her throat, but she reined it in. She arched her eyebrow at Peter, and inclined her head slightly. “Peter. Good to see you again.”
“You as well.” He clapped her on the shoulder and she barely refrained from flinching. Especially when he kept his hand there for a moment too long before he turned to Martin and Chris. “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure.”
She sidled away, her gaze drawn to the large shadow in the doorway.
Samson.
Her relief at seeing him would have worried her, if Peter didn’t worry her more. She smiled as he walked toward them.
It took her a second to realize his return grin was missing. Actually, everything was missing. The light in his face, the eagerness in his step, the little lines crinkling around his eyes.
Her smile faltered. What was wrong?
“Who’s this?” Peter’s booming voice dragged her attention back to him. Which was what he’d meant to do, she realized, when she