Chapter 5
Serena
“Morning, Serena.”
I stop dead in my tracks, my Louboutins clicking against the marble as I give Veronica—our receptionist—the kind of look that lets her know today is not the day. Her chipper voice?
Not what I need right now.
Why? Because last night, I let a man ruin my silk press. One hour of sleep and no scarf later, I’m here, walking around with my hair slicked back into a messy ponytail, thanks to the travel-sized edge control I found rolling around in my car. It’s a miracle I even managed to leave the house.
Veronica adjusts her glasses and clears her throat nervously. Twice. “I mean, Ms. Harris,” she corrects herself. “I stopped by Butter treacherous and reckless. My face burned hot with shame before I even opened my mouth.
Why is he here?
Last night’s memories came rushing back.
Every whispered moan against sweat-slicked skin. Every bruising kiss he’d pressed into my skin like a brand. The way he’d looked at me, like he already knew this story wasn’t finished.
Now I knew it too.
His eyes locked onto mine.
That smile curved his lips like he could read every desperate thought racing through my head. As if he was daring me to remember the way his hands had gripped my hips, how I’d arched into him without hesitation, how he’d made me forget my own damn name.
Hot blood pounded through me. Too hot. Too much. Especially here, in this room, with her watching.
Ms. Brooks’s smile never slipped. But her gaze, sharp as a blade, cut between us.
She’d seen something. That single, silent beat said enough.
With a blink, she straightened her blouse, lifted her chin, and called the meeting to order.
But the damage was done.
The storm wasn’t coming.
It was already here.
And I was standing right in its Path.
Shit.