could make those changes and lower the cost—”
“Not possible.” I swivel around in my chair and glare at the phone. “If you’re looking for affordable, I suggest you hire a different firm.”
“There has to be some flexibility.”
“You asked for the best, and that’s what you got.” My executive assistant pokes her head in through the door. “You have twenty-four hours to sign off on the plans. Goodbye.” I sit back in my chair. “What is it?”
“Mr. North, your doorman called to let you know that your guest has left your residence.” She nods politely and backs out of my office.
“Close the door.”
The handle clicks shut, and I pull out my phone.
Accessing the security feed to my building, I click on the camera outside my door and rewind the video until I see movement. I hit pause.
My lungs seize for a few seconds as I stare at the image on my phone. She was gorgeous in dirty clothes and tangled hair. Cleaned up, she’s more than I could’ve imagined.
I slowly move the video forward, watching her familiar walk, the way she tilts her head when she’s listening, and the protective hold she has on her ribs—still her, but a more polished version. I can’t say I prefer one over the other. I watch her step onto the elevator. I take that back. I suppose I am partial to the version that isn’t currently walking away.
Life is a bitter asshole. The world we lived in during our time in the mountains is over. I have a life to get back to—projects, deadlines, and suffocating social engagements. It’s impossible for me to focus on anything else. My brain doesn’t operate bilaterally. It’s all or nothing, and my all is North Industries.
“Knock, knock.” My office door opens, and my brother Kingston saunters in, dressed like an 1800s brothel couch and acting like he owns the place. “Bro.” He drops into a sling-back chair, slouched, legs spread as if he’s settling in to watch football like some average Joe rather than a member of the born and bred elite. Real life is something the twenty-five-year-old has yet to experience and probably never will. “I met your chick.”
“She’s not my chick.”
A slow smirk pulls his lips, the same smirk I’ve seen him take home celebrities and supermodels with. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why not? She’s gorgeous—”
“I said no.”
He holds up hands that have never seen a day’s labor. “Alright, shit. Put away the claws.”
“What do you want?”
He sighs long and hard. “Since you’re depriving me of enjoying the splendors of a lovely woman—”
A low hum rumbles in my throat.
“I guess I’ll take getting out of that charity thing at the gallery.”
“You have to talk to the old man about that.”
He chuckles, but the sound lacks humor. “He doesn’t even know I exist. He’ll listen to you.” He picks at his manicured nails. “You’re the Golden Boy,” he mutters.
“He’ll want us all there. The image—”
“Of the company,” he says while using his finger like a conductor stick. “Blah blah bullshitty blah. But I was hoping to go with a few friends to Saint Moritz that week, hit the slopes.”
“You want to miss North Industries’ once-a-year fundraiser so you can vacation in Switzerland?”
He claps his hands once. “Yes. Thank you. Talk to the old man, let me know what he says.” He stands and adjusts his velvet coat. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Get out.”
“I love you, too.” He heads out the door. “Mrs. Miller, aren’t you looking as fine as a young Kate Winslet today. Please tell me you’re not still married.”
I hear the trilling giggle of my assistant.
“That’s too bad. Let me be the first to know if that changes.” He blows her an exaggerated kiss and walks away, waving a queenly hello to anyone he passes.
I pull my phone back up and watch the video footage of Jordan riding down the elevator and then switch footage to see her walking through the lobby. Her already big eyes are even bigger as she takes in the space with awe.
The area behind my ribs warms at her approval.
I stop the video and zoom in to where Hudson’s hand is on her back. That should be me guiding her out the door and into a car. I should’ve been the one to take her home.
I wonder if she’d even cared to say goodbye.
Who am I kidding?
She’s promised to someone else, and I’m promised to North Industries. Just like me, she’ll pick up where she left