Grayson
The office smelled faintly of musk and new leather. The kind of scent meant to impress investors, not for a man chasing ghosts from his past.
I sat behind my desk, watching Newport's skyline from across the glass wall. The morning sunlight crept behind the skyline sharp and bright, like the life I'd spent the last five years building from scratch.
And still, I couldn't get her off my mind.
Elena Whitmore.
Her name had echoed in my head every moment since the gala. The sight of her in that dress, the way she froze when our eyes locked had gutted me clean. I'd told myself that night would be the last I think of her, but that was a lie I didn't want to admit.
A soft knock pulled me back to the present. “Come in,” I said
Bridget stepped in, tablet in hand, her hair swept up in
