Page 41 of Knotted

And Halmeoni’s account? It’s a garden of flowers, from bright pink roses to big, blue balloon flowers. It’s the rich-colored marigolds that make me smile. Jess’s favorites.

And then there’s Colby. My brother in arms. His most recent post is a video of the Statue of Liberty at dusk. It tells me two things: One, his drone maneuvering is as precise as ever. And two, he’s home.

After a split-second debate, I shoot a message to his account.

In NYC? Want to shoot some hoops?

His reply is instant.

Need your ass kicked that bad?

Name the time and place!

I laugh and shoot him the time and address, along with a little note.

Bring it, punk.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Imani is there to greet me, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, like she’s been waiting just for this moment.

“You’re a godsend,” I say, graciously accepting the cup and taking a sip, letting the warmth chase away some of the morning’s tension.

“I know,” she replies with a warm smile. “It’s why Mark keeps me around. And I got your text. The security team is on the hunt for your watch.”

Her smile falters, and I know what she’s thinking. It’s a long shot, but if anyone can find it, my team can. “Thanks,” I murmur. “And clear my calendar for later this afternoon. I’ve got a meeting with theHerald.”

“Do they know that?”

“Nope.”

Her eyes widen, concern flashing across her face. “Ms. Voss?”

“God, no.”

“Maybe Ms. Sun, then?”

A guilty grin tugs at my lips.

“Ah.” Her expression softens with understanding. “Well, there’s someone waiting in your office.”

That’s never good. “Care to clue me in?”

“Can’t. Sworn tosecrecy.”

“Traitor.” I smirk, shaking my head as I walk past her. She giggles as I push open the door.

There, lounging comfortably at my desk—formerly his desk—is Zac.

His size 12s are kicked up, and his beard, that untamed jungle, looks even wilder. A newspaper is sprawled out in front of him. He looks up, amused. “If you wanted me back, you could’ve just asked,” he says, voice dripping with enough sarcasm, I know it can’t be good.

I close the door behind me, hands sliding into my pockets. “What happened?”

“You’re making headlines again.”

I’m not sure I want to know, but I ask the question. “How bad is it?”

“Four—count ’em, one, two, three, four—major accounts have called me this morning alone.” He presses a hand to his ear. “If you listen really hard, you can hear the sound of three hundred million dollars going down the drain.”

Fuck. Mark and Jess nearly canceled their honeymoon when Zac stepped down, and they deserve one uninterrupted month without me crumbling Mark’s empire to shit overnight.

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