Page 17 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

ME: Of course you did.

UNKNOWN: Get some rest. I’ve got this.

I stare at the screen, rereading the words.I’ve got this.

Something in my chest loosens. A tether I didn’t know I needed.

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat.

I stare at the screen, then down at the ridiculous ring still clutched in my fist. My reflection in the hotel mirror is wild-eyed, lipstick smudged, looking every inch the woman who has officially lost all control of her life.

I take a slow, shuddering breath. Then another. The panic lingers, but a new sensation edges in?—

Determination.

I exhale sharply and straighten. “Fine. If the world wants to drown me in yacht scandals and bad decisions? Then I’m going to turn the damn tide.”

Kat and Lily exchange wary glances.

“Oh no,” Kat mutters. “She’s got the look.”

“The ‘I’m about to burn my life down’ look?” Lily whispers back.

I grab my laptop bag and sling it over my shoulder. “No. The ‘I’m about to get to work’ look.”

6

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

CONNOR

Monday mornings in Seattle are always gray. But this particular Monday morning—three days after Vegas, two months before Clearwater Tech's IPO, and approximately ten seconds after spilling coffee all over our cloud optimization projections—feels especially bleak.

I stare at the rapidly spreading stain, feeling the same sinking sensation I had the moment I stepped off the plane. Like I was back in a reality I wasn’t ready to face.

Vegas was a fever dream.

A reckless, whiskey-fueled, logic-defying fever dream. And yet, it had been real enough to land me in the middle of an impending PR nightmare, an unresolved marriage, and a shitstorm of corporate expectations waiting for me the second I walked through Clearwater’s doors.

But before all of that—before the consequences and the emails and my father’s inevitable disapproval—there had been the moment I woke up.

I hadn’t meant to look at her. But the second my eyes opened, I was caught.

Ariana had been sprawled out in bed beside me, dark waves of hair tumbling over bare shoulders, the sheet barely clinging to curves that had haunted my hands even in sleep. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over smooth, golden skin. And her lips—parted, just slightly, like she was still caught in some dream of her own.

My first thought had been that she was stunning.

My second thought had been that I needed to get out of there immediately.

Attraction to gorgeous women has never been my problem.

I can appreciate beauty, indulge in it even—but only on my terms. Only when I control the parameters.

And Ariana, with her sharp wit and softer edges, her infuriating way of calling me out and making me like it?

A woman like that is a complication I can’t afford. The kind that makes a man forget his own rules.

And I have rules for a reason.

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