The resort conference center buzzed with clinking glasses, networking small talk, and the faint beat of lounge music. Company retreats were supposed to be team-building exercises, not steamy emotional landmines.
But nothing about us had ever been simple.
I stood by the poolside bar, fingers wrapped around a sweating glass of lemonade, trying to focus on the view of palm trees and not the fact that Ethan Black—the man who’d ruined me, wrecked me, and remade me in a single week—was walking straight toward me in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a look in his eyes that had absolutely nothing to do with business.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, voice low but firm.
I didn’t move. “That’s what last night was, wasn’t it?”
“No. That was me proving we still fit.”
“You prove
