“This is Sara Dillon, head of our finance department,” Bennett said to Will.

Will stepped forward. “Yes, we’ve been exchanging emails. So nice to finally meet you, Sara. We missed each other at the fund-raiser last month, I think.”

They spoke for a moment before she glanced my way, her eyes going wide for the briefest moment. She walked over, hand outstretched, and did not look entirely pleased to see me.

“I believe we met at the fund-raiser,” she said, tight smile in place. “Max Stella, was it?”

I took her hand, letting my thumb graze the inside of her wrist. “I’m flattered you remember, Sara.”

She pulled her hand back, smiling blandly at me and moving to her seat.

I moved on to Chloe, making small talk and accepting a vague invitation for dinner sometime in the next few weeks. It was pretty clear why Bennett was so taken with her: she was beautiful and obviously sharp. I didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered to Bennett’s and then back to me, as if they were having some sort of silent conversation. At one point he rolled his eyes, face stretching into a smile unlike anything I’d ever seen on him before. The poor bastard was whipped.

As the meeting started, I took the only seat available, right next to Sara. Judging by her expression, I wasn’t entirely convinced this was a good thing.

The minutes seemed to drag by and, Jesus Christ, this really was the most boring thing I’d ever sat through, science and strategies about science. At one point I could have sworn I saw Will’s eyes roll closed in ecstasy.

Sara was still silently fuming beside me. What happened that had her so tense? I could feel every bit of space that separated her body from mine. I had to consciously work to keep my hands in my lap. I was aware of every movement she made, every time she shifted in her chair or reached for her bottle of water. I could smell her. I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to be this close and not be able to run my hands along her skin, to do something as simple as tuck her hair behind her ear.

Why the f**k did I suddenly want to tuck her hair behind her ear? This plan had officially gone to shite.

Immediately after Will’s portfolio presentation, Sara excused herself and left before I could talk to her any more. When I finally disentangled myself from a conversation about the best way to highlight the firm’s proteomic technology in the marketing strat plan, I practically sprinted to her office.

“Hello,” her assistant said, looking me up and down from behind his monitor.

“I’m here to see Miss Dillon,” I said, continuing on to her office.

“Good luck, because she’s not in there,” he called over my shoulder. I turned to find that he’d gone back to his spreadsheets.

“Any idea where she might be?”

Without looking up he answered, “Probably out for a walk. She just stormed through here like someone had set her shoes on fire.” He blinked over to me. “She usually goes to the park when she wants to stab someone.”

Oh, for f**k’s sake.

I ran to the elevator, ignoring the looks I got along the way, and watched the floors count down. What the hell had gone wrong? I’d barely said two words to her in there. The heat of the afternoon hit me like a wall as I stepped outside, even in the suffocating shadows of the buildings overhead. I looked up and down the street, turning on foot in the direction of the park. The sidewalks were crowded with dog walkers and tourists, but hopefully her shoes would slow her down enough that I’d be able to catch up.

It was the strangest feeling to move from the city and into the park, where the smells of asphalt and exhaust were replaced with trees and leaves, damp dirt and water.

I saw a flash of pink at the end of the trail and I sped up, calling out to her. “Sara!”

She stopped on a paved trail and whipped around to face me. “Holy hell, Max. What were you thinking?”

I pulled up short. “What?”

“Back there!” she said, short of breath. “I didn’t know you guys funded B&T! They don’t need to disclose that at this stage. Hello, conflict of interest!”

I scrubbed my face, wishing this simple arrangement would stop feeling so f**king complicated. “I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Let me lay it out for you,” she said. “The head of finance of B&T’s marketing firm is sleeping with the head of the venture capitalist firm that pays said marketing firm. Think you maybe have a conflict? Do you think maybe you’d like your new sex buddy to have some business? Or maybe you’d like to ensure your new venture gets the best possible price on premium marketing strategy?”