Page 144 of Perfect Satisfaction

“And this is the career you always dreamed of?”

“I never wanted this job.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Then why the hell are you doing it?” he demands angrily.

“For reasons you’ll never understand.”

“Try me.”

I study him for a moment before I pull myself together and recall who I’m talking to—the man who can shatter my heart over and over—just like my father did to my mother. “Because people depend on me. Now, I have to go pack.”

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow night.”

He cages me in. “Then tonight, I’m going to fill you with enough memories to carry us through this trip if you’re going to be that busy.”

I shudder knowing I’m weak, that what I feel for him is tainted.

Knowing I won’t be able to resist him once he kisses me.

Sleep will be a distant memory, one which I don’t care if I ever catch up on if it means this man’s hands are on my skin taking me to heights I’ll never experience without him.

This way, when he finally does leave me, I’ll have a lifetime’s worth to live on.

I’m using my old office to conduct this meeting with the team leads—all of whom hauled their ass in from varying parts of Europe when they heard I was coming to London. “O’Connor, how is it possible for us to be behind on staffing, yet we’re on time for launch?”

As he explains the rollout schedule, JB’s interoffice line buzzes. I ignore it as he concludes, “... so long as we fill the roles on schedule, we should be fine, Sula.”

I brace my hips on my old desk before asking with exaggerated patience, “Did you factor in training? The natural dip in team productivity? What happens if we fill the role with someone outside of MSW?”

His face flushes. “You think I should shift the timeline forward.”

“I’m saying those roles should have been posted last week. If we have to, lure in candidates by offering a signing bonus. There’s enough cash overflow to accommodate that and still come in twenty percent under projections.” O’Connor is making notes when the interoffice phone buzzes again. I growl, “I swear if this is Joshua again...” The rest of my threat goes unsaid as the team has had a front seat to me dressing him down.

“Yes?” I answer brusquely.

To my utter shock, it’s the front gate. “Ms. Moore, we’re sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor.”

I lift the receiver to take the call off the puck. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“We know, ma’am. But the gentleman is quite persistent.”

“Who is it?” I ask, bewildered.

“A gentleman by the name of Arek Ronan.”

My lips part in shock. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“No, ma’am. We’ve checked his passport and driver’s license and even validated his rental agreement.”

Why on earth is he here at MSW? He’s supposed to be entertaining himself since I told him I wouldn’t have the time. But since the only person who can answer is the man himself, I pull myself together. “Provide him with a visitor’s pass and have him escorted to the media waiting area. I’ll send Helen down to collect him.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I apologize for interrupting any business you were conducting.”

“We were just wrapping up. Thank you,” I disconnect the call. Turning, I find JB’s project team slumped over their equipment. With some empathy, I remind them, “Listen, you all know I’m half as difficult as JB would be on you if these mistakes came to light.”

“The benefit of working with you, Sula, is you identify issues along the way,” Dyan remarks