Page 47 of Salvaged Hearts

“And you’re arrogant and self-centered. You mock me as though all I’ve learned in two years under your supervision is your coffee order, but I highly doubt you could supply mine in a pinch. You don’t bother to learn rudimentary things aboutthe rabblethat serve you. We’re so far below your pay grade I’m shocked you bother to learn names, although maybe that’s generous because you haven’t bothered to learn mine. So, I suppose you’re right. We need deeper communication if this is going to work. But it’s not me—or the men I talk to—that you should be concerned with.”

I was out of the car before the driver had it in park.

10

Just Call Me Belle

ALICE

The thirteenth floor was unusually busy on Monday morning. The smell of burned coffee greeted me with my first step off the elevator. People were bustling, copy machines chugged out daily reports, computer keys clacked at astounding speed, and voices buzzed through the large, open work room. The thing I admired most about the Hart brothers was their dedication to the idea of a team—although they certainly weren’t a part of ours.

Office walls all glowed white to reflect the sunlight that streamed in through oversized windows. Twin staircases led up to the overhang where the executives were tucked behind walls of glass that made the entire space feel like a fishbowl. Sleek modern desks lined down the center, each facing the other so co-workers could pop around their monitors for conversations. They were all electric and could be raised to stand or sit as they worked to accommodate better ergonomics or even exercise balls for those who struggled to focus sitting still. Gorgeous modern artwork splashed color across the walls, keeping with our coastal city. Framed, signed posters of our star football players lined the bathroom hallway in bold emerald green, gold, and black.

Alltouches I attributed to Oliver’s part in the family business. I’d seen pictures of the outdated eighties decor they’d inherited, and the dingy space was a far cry from the environment I’d walked into a few summers back.

But all of those progressive pieces of company culture did nothing to dull the abrupt cutoff of conversation as I stepped in between the lines of desks and monitors. A hush settled over the desks like a wet blanket tossed over a fire despite my smile. A smile that went rigid under their scrutiny.

Just like that, I was no longer a peer. I was one ofthem.

I was going to be a Hart. Surely, a handful of them thought I’d slept my way to my position, which was more frustrating than it should have been. And what had been camaraderie two weeks ago—sharing jokes at Greyson’s expense and planning summer concerts together—had been replaced with fear and furtive glances.Great. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that the very few friend-adjacent relationships I had in this city would vanish when I was publicly declaredhis.

“Morning, Paul,” I greeted as I finally hit his desk at the back of the room outside of the executive’s offices—mine included. He was the first person to both meet my gaze and smile.

“Morning, Alice! How are you, beautiful?” I shrugged, but the attempt at nonchalance wasn’t fooling Paul. He’d been with Greyson for years before I joined the team and had been one of my earliest allies in this overwhelming building. He offered me a sympathetic smile before saying, “Give it time. They’ll get over it the moment some new juicy scandal arises.”

Nodding, I mumbled, “Thanks.”

“Oh. Yourbetrothed,”he overenunciated the word just for emphasis, a devilish smile curling his slender lips. “He asked me to tell you to see him in his office when you arrived.”

“Thanks, Paul,” I said as I walked past him, holding back the groan that climbed up my chest. Hesitating at the foot of theexecutive stairs, I realized he wasn’t supposed to be here, but I clamped my teeth shut on the question that almost flew from my mouth because, his fiancéwouldknow why he’d broken his hiatus.

Dammit.

I hadn’t seen him since the limo ride fiasco after the engagement party. Spent the weekend with a too-smug Leighton, who still wanted me to call the whole thing off for the farce it was. A farce coming to a head quicker than I could possibly prepare for. There was no way to have a royal wedding ready in a matter of weeks, but we’d decided a secret intimate elopement with ‘exclusive’ photos offered to Stacy and her paper was just as good. We’d leak secondary images to a second source and stoke the scandal of celebrity obsession for extra diversion.

But that meant this was my last week to walk away before things became infinitely more complicated. Rather than going to my end of the hallway, I walked directly into Greyson’s office. Those hazel greens landed on me the instant I filled the doorway, clutching my bag in one hand and coffee in the other. With a pained sigh, he motioned for me to close the door. All too eager to comply, I slipped into the room, but the heavy click of the latch behind me felt more final than I’d like.

“Morning, Mr. Hart,” I said, sitting when he motioned to the chair across the desk.

“One moment,” he said curtly, tapping away at his keys. While par for the course, it was still maddening, my irritation already rising. Maybe too much history sat between us to pull this off after all. It wasn’t that he’d said anything spectacularly dickish in the car Saturday night—though his refusal to defend me to Reggie spoke volumes—and it wasn’t unusual for him to wrap up a last-minute email after calling me in for a meeting. Yet, the pretense of a relationship—transactional as it may be—made all of the Heartless-isms that much more agitating.

“I have a very full agenda today; perhaps I should come back at a more convenient time.”

“Stop it,” he ordered, not moving his eyes from the screen that was rapidly filling with little black letters.

“Just communicating the requirements of my day,sir.”

“You know what you’re doing,” he growled, clicking the enter key with theatrical finality. Fingers laced behind his head, he leaned back in his chair and crossed one ankle over the other. God must have had one hell of a sense of humor if he thought putting the personality of a rattlesnake into a package like that was appropriate. Begrudgingly, my brain hashed out whether or not he was pretty enough to make up for being so callous. The arm porn currently on display beneath a slick button-up with sleeves rolled to the elbow wasn’t helping the logic win out.

Luckily for me, he opened his mouth again, quickly reminding me why he was only as beautiful as a poisonous plant—luring you in with bright colors and silky petals only to send you heaving into the bathroom toilet if you were dumb enough to take a taste. “Where’ve you been?”

“Home.”

“No. I was home.” A lone arched brow accompanied inflectionless anger. “You were not.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the desk as he clasped his fingers against the marble surface. “We argued about how best to keep up appearances. Do you think running off for forty-eight hours is an appropriate response?”

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