Page 27 of About That One Night
“Of course, you stay with Mrs. Montgomery and enjoy your newlywed life.” I flash a grin I don’t quite feel, thoughts already racing ahead to whatever crisis is requesting our presence and who we’re going to call for this mission.
With a quick goodbye, I’m out the door, adrenaline already pumping, like I’ve just downed a triple espresso. Though even as I step into the elevator, a pair of unsettling green eyes still haunts the edges of my mind.
I slideinto my Bugatti Chiron, the engine purring to life like a contented cat. As I pull out, the scent of Zoe’s jasmine perfume lingers, a ghostly reminder of our proximity moments ago. Suddenly, I’m transported back to those late-night calls, her laughterechoing through the phone as we helped with Lily’s quest.
Our conversations usually started with Ethan and Lily’s cross-country adventure but ended with her telling me about her life and me . . . Well, I never told her much because I enjoyed listening to her voice.
There was something about her that made the world feel more vibrant—more alive.
When she spoke, it was like she painted the air with colors I didn’t know existed. Her words would dance around me, each syllable a brush stroke of brilliance that left me breathless. She made me see things differently and feel things I didn’t think I could.
In those moments, everything else faded away, and all that mattered was the sound of her voice. The usual background noise of my life—the constant hum of work, the weight of responsibilities—all of it disappeared. She was more than just a beautiful distraction; she was a reminder that there’s still magic in the world, and maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be a part of that magic.
My heart would race and my palms would sweat as I hung on her every word. It was as if she held the key to a part of myself I never knew existed. A part that believed in possibility, in connection, in something beyond the carefully constructed fortress of my bachelor lifestyle.
But of course, it was all an illusion. She was like a siren who could enchant me with her voice, but once I couldn’t hear her, the spell broke. Reality would come crashing back like a tidal wave, leaving me disoriented and slightly hollow. The colors wouldfade, the magic dissipating like mist in the morning sun, leaving me to wonder if it had ever really been there at all.
But then . . . then she left Tom and now I don’t even know what we’re doing. Am I just helping her learn how to live, or could there be something more? These rules we’ve set up feel like minefields, ready to explode with the force of a supernova if we take one wrong step.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. It’s too soon to think either way because she’s just getting out of a relationship and hasn’t lived enough. Sure, she’s thirty-two and a successful lawyer, but she’s lived her life by her parents’ rules.
I shake my head, forcing myself back to the present. My knuckles whiten as I grip the steering wheel, willing the thoughts of her away. The streets of Boston blur past as I weave through traffic, horns blaring in my wake. My mind switches gears from personal to professional, the familiar mask of composure sliding back into place.
My fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel as I dial Caleb’s number, and the call connects through the car’s Bluetooth.
“Hey, Max,” Caleb answers on the first ring, his tone brisk and businesslike.
“Hey, Cal, where are you?” I ask, swerving around a slow-moving SUV.
“Already in the San Diego office,” he replies, the faint sound of keyboards clacking in the background.
“What’s the situation?” I press the accelerator, theengine roaring as I speed through a yellow light, narrowly avoiding a collision.
“There’s been a cybersecurity breach at First National Bank. Hackers drained a significant amount from several high-profile accounts overnight. We need to stop the threat and recover the stolen funds,” Caleb explains, his voice tight and urgent.
I pull into the parking garage of our building, tires screeching as I brake hard into a spot. “Any idea who’s behind it?” I ask, stepping into the elevator and jabbing the button for our floor.
“Not yet. We’re running traces and analyzing the breach vectors, but these guys are good. They’ve covered their tracks well,” Caleb replies, frustration evident in his voice.
The elevator dings, and I stride down the hall, my footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. “Alright, mobilize the team. I’m almost there,” I say, my hand already on the door handle to our office. “We need to lock down the system, track the breach, and start the recovery process immediately. We can’t let them get away with this.”
“I’m on it,” Caleb says. “When you arrive just connect to StreamTalk so we can do this together. See you in a bit.”
As I push open the door to our bustling office, the familiar buzz of urgency fills the air. That’s when I receive a message from Zoe.
Zoe: So I take it we’re not seeing each other today either?
MaxMc: Nope, and can we rethink the whole ‘I don’t like you’ lie, because I fucking like you, Zoe Harper.
Zoe: Did I tell you your mom is trying to convince Audrey to bring Suzy’s niece to the wedding—maybe you two can hit it off? It’ll be another Cohen-McCallister happy ending.
MaxMc: You’re lying.
Zoe: Ask Liam when you can. If she ever finds out about me . . . I’d have to disappear—witness protection program and all the jazz.
MaxMc: Fine, we’ll continue this the way you want it, but you owe me.
Zoe: What do I owe you?
