Chapter 21
TORI
I’m in the middle of a tense ROI call with investors when there’s a knock at the door.
I hold up a finger, pausing the conversation.
Hopefully it’s the delivery man with the overpriced salad I panic-ordered for lunch in between meetings.
I’ve been so wrapped up with work and hockey, I haven’t had time to shop, let alone cook.
I rush to the door and fling it open. No one. Glancing down, I spot a gigantic bouquet of pink roses. They’re gorgeous and did I mention oversized?
Bending down, I hoist up the heavy vase and kick the door closed behind me.
Staggering to the island, I carefully set the roses down next to the all-white floral arrangement from this morning.
Both big and showy and beautiful. I stare at the flowers for a second, then pluck out the card.
Smiling, I hurry back to the desk and slide into my chair, clicking the headset back on.
“Sorry — back. Where were we?” One of the investors rattles off assumptions and I try to focus on the data.
But the tiny flower shop card’s practically burning my hand.
Flicking my eyes at the camera, I shift in my seat so my face is out of frame. I slip the note out of the cream envelope.
For the part of you that isn’t all control.
-B.
I suck in a sharp breath.
“Tori — you still there?” The investor’s thin, reedy voice fills my ear.
“Yes, Steve. Still here.”
“Should we hedge with gold here — or stay put?”
Tearing my eyes from Bennett’s note, I double-check the markets.
“Hedge with gold. We’ll reassess next week.” I force certainty into my voice, try to recover my edge.
The part of you that isn’t all control.
In a few short weeks, Bennett’s threatened my self-control more than anyone else has in my entire life.
He’s also seen more of the real me than Preston did in two-plus years of dating.
The bad boy hockey player with a temper quicker than his release knows me better than my Wall Street ex ever did.
Knock, knock.
Another tap, this one much quieter. I’m rising out of my chair when the door squeaks open.
Panicked, I glance over my shoulder.
Bennett, in a navy blue T-shirt and gym shorts, straight from practice.
Knox must have let him in.
Perfect.
I lean over, ducking off-screen and pointing at my headset.
“On a call.” I mouth the words and he nods, shuffling over to my sofa and sinking down. Unbothered, like he has nothing but time.
He stretches out his long legs, leaning back against the cushion and manspreading. Like he belongs here in this space.
As if he’s not the absolute definition of messy chaos in my carefully curated life.
“Tori — what do you think about India?” Bill, one of the more senior investors, asks.
“India?” I repeat the word, scrambling for what I missed.
“Yes.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, stalling. “India in what context — growth allocation or a hedge? Because I’m comfortable adding, but I want to control entry and size. Liquidity and FX matter.”
“Growth sleeve. We’re thinking a small add. Do you want broad beta or a more targeted expression?” Bill pauses, waiting for me to come up with a plan.
Bennett’s distracting me. The clean scent of his cologne, undeniably masculine. His measured stare tracking me. And I swear I feel his body heat from here.
Plus, the obscene amount of flowers covering my kitchen island right now. Like I live in a greenhouse or something.
Somehow, I string together a strategy that makes sense. “Targeted expression. Quality large caps, defined risk, staged entry. I’m not paying up for crowded momentum.”
Bill makes a note, and the rest of the group nods in agreement.
I catch Bennett stretching out of the corner of my eye. He’s rolling his wrists, the tattoo on his forearm flashing as he moves. I tap my pen on my notepad.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Right.” I snap back to the call. “Send me sizing and vehicles after this call.”
I clear my throat and cross my ankles, more than ready to be done with this meeting.
“Good. We’re aligned. I’ll follow up with final allocations once I’ve reviewed your draft. Thank you.” I rip the headset off and click End before Bill figures out how to exit the Zoom call.
“We need to talk.” Bennett’s voice is low and serious, sending heat straight to my core.
I force my shoulders down and spin around slowly in my chair. Bennett’s already standing.
No easy smile. No cocky grin.
All business.
A ripple of anticipation slides down my spine as he moves toward me. Sunlight streams through the window and catches the gold in his waves, the hard line of his jaw.
“Is this because I didn’t send you a thank you text after delivery number two?” I narrow my eyes at him, forcing the joke.
He doesn’t laugh.
“No, Tori. It’s not. I see you were busy.”
My fingers toy with the chain at my neck, tracing the smooth metal as my heart races.
Bennett steps closer and reaches in, stilling my fingers on the necklace. His thumb brushes the spot where my pulse jumps and I suck in a quick breath. I wrap my hand around his wrist and rise, standing. He towers over me without my heels, and I’m painfully aware of how much space he commands.
“About?” I make the question sound casual, my voice tipping up.
“About us.” His intense gaze lands on mine and heat unfurls low in my belly. “Last night you said we need to think, not be reckless.”
I lick my lower lip, more nervous than when I’m moving seven figures with one click. I haven’t been with anyone since Preston, and that feels like lifetimes ago now.
“Right. You have everything on the line, Bennett. I’m supposed to make sure you don’t screw things up — not help you do it.”
He brushes my cheek with his knuckles. “Sunshine, you wouldn’t be screwing anything up.”
“I don’t blur lines.” I swallow hard over the lump in my throat, my voice shaky.
“Tori—” Bennett closes the small gap between us, his large hands landing on my hips. “I’m messy. Facts. And I want to blur lines. Right now. With you.”
God help me, I want that, too. More than anything.
I hesitate for a second, holding my breath.
This whole thing could blow up. Worse than Preston, and that breakup shook me.
I should tell him no. Let him walk out of here and forget anything ever happened between us.
It’s the safe thing to do.
Instead, I lift up on tiptoe and press my lips to his. Kissing him hard and deep, like I’m done being careful.
“Let’s get messy,” I murmur. His grin curves against my mouth, hands tightening on my hips.
“Gladly.”