And then, the familiar command returned: “Fix it.”

* * *

I jogged down the steps to the street, already dialing Ruby’s number.

It rang, and rang.

I’d never heard her voice mail recording before, and hearing her voice while my heart was clutched with an uneasy panic only made me feel more urgent.

“Hi, this is Ruby! Leave me a message and I’ll probably just text you back because I’m terrible about calling but if you’re calling this number you probably already know that about me and I’m already forgiven.” Beep.

“Ruby,” I began, “it’s me, Niall. I’ve . . .” I trailed off, pulling at my hair. “I’ve just left Portia’s. Ruby, I don’t know why I went there. I shouldn’t have gone. Please, just call me. I want to see you tonight. This was all absurd. I need to see you.”

But hour after hour, she didn’t call, and she didn’t text.

* * *

Admittedly I arrived at work early the next morning but I was still surprised that Ruby wasn’t yet at her desk.

Her friend Pippa was there, though, and when I approached—knowing full well Pippa was aware of our relationship—she blinked away from me in a scowl.

“Pippa?”

She looked up at me again, eyes level and assessing. “Yeah?”

“Have you heard from Ruby or know when she’s expected in?”

Her expression shifted from annoyed to baffled. “ ‘Expected in’?”

“In to work,” I clarified, a bit unnecessarily I felt.

“Are you daft?”

I stuttered out a few syllables, finally settling on “I don’t believe so?”

She looked at me silently for a couple of beats. “You really don’t know, do you?” she asked, standing up to face me. “Ruby was sacked, you dolt.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry. Sacked?”

“Sacked.”

“She was sacked?”

Pippa laughed humorlessly, and shook her head. “She was made to choose between her internship and a relationship with you. She meant to tell you yesterday afternoon that she was done here, but I think you had other plans?”

Oh.

Oh.

Bloody . . . fucking . . . hell.

Panic tore through me, causing my heart to squeeze tightly before it exploded into a rapid swing.

“She . . .” I gasped, looking around as if she might actually be there. As if this might be some sort of game.

Tony made her choose between her job and me.

She chose me.

And as far as she was concerned, I chose Portia.

“I’m fucked,” I whispered to myself.

Pippa snorted. “Too right.”

* * *

I stormed into Tony’s office, eyes on fire. “You have got to be bloody kidding me.”

He startled, standing abruptly. “Niall.”

An intern I hadn’t even noticed stood up from the chair across from him, smoothing her skirt and excusing herself with a quiet, “Pardon.”

We both watched her leave; her beauty and youth triggered another explosion in my chest. I barely waited for her to close the office door before I turned to him, voice low with fury, “Give me a reason I shouldn’t slam your head into that desk right now.”

Tony held up his hands. “It’s my group policy, Niall. Per the rules I set forth verbally when Ruby started in my group, I can’t allow fraternization.”

“Since when?” I nodded to the door. “Was this rule set forth before or after you hired that one there?” I took a step closer. “Was this before or after you suggested I pull Ruby? Was this before or after you admired her tits, her legs?”

He blinked, swallowing nervously. “I’m not sure what conversation you’re referring to, but if you’ve been able to find it in writing, I’m happy to discuss it with you.”

I laughed dryly. “So you’ve been to HR, then.”

Tony closed his eyes, repeating, “Per the rules I set forth verbally when Ruby started in my group, I can’t allow fraternization.”

Seething, I told him, “You are a bloody joke. I hope Ruby sues your pockets inside out.”

* * *

If someone had told me only a month ago that I would meet a woman from the office, fall in love, and lose her all before spring truly arrived in London, I would consider the prospect ludicrous.

Ruby didn’t return to the office that morning, not even to clean out her desk. Her absence was a blaring void: no hint of her silly laugh, no flash of her playful green eyes. Even the interns’ office seemed subdued when I walked past. So as late as half past nine—after my blowup with Tony, and as my blood pressure seemed unwilling to return to normal—I could barely focus on a single task in front of me.