Louis's POV
My phone buzzed at exactly 6:47 AM, three minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I answered it before the second ring, already knowing who it was.
"This better be important, Marcus." I said, not bothering to exchange pleasantries.
"Good morning to you too, boss." My CFO sounded way too chipper for this ungodly hour.
"Just wanted to give you a heads up before your eight o'clock with the Nakamura group. They're bringing their legal team, which means they're probably going to try renegotiating the terms."
I swung my legs out of bed, padding toward the espresso machine in my penthouse kitchen. "Let them try and they'll find out that the contract's airtight."
"Yeah, but you know how these Japanese conglomerates are. Everything's a negotiation with them."
"Then we'll negotiate." I pressed the button and watched dark liquid stream into the cup.
"Anything else you want to tell me?"
"Your father called me twice and he wants to know when you're coming to the estate for dinner."
My jaw tightened. "Tell him I'm busy and I'll come by to see him later."
"I'm your CFO, not your personal assistant. Tell him yourself."
"You're whoever I need you to be, and right now I need you to run interference with my father." I took a sip of espresso—hot, bitter, exactly how I liked it. "What's the situation with the merger?"
"On track. Legal's still reviewing documents, but we should be clear to proceed by end of week. Though honestly, Louis, you might want to slow down a bit. This is the third major acquisition in six months."
"Your point?"
"My point is you're spreading yourself thin. When's the last time you took a day off?"
I couldn't remember. Didn't particularly care to. "I'll rest when I'm dead. Anything else?"
Marcus sighed—that long-suffering sound he made when he knew arguing was pointless.
"Meeting prep documents are on your desk. Try not to terrify the Nakamura people too badly. We actually want this deal to go through."
"I'm always professional."
"You're always intimidating. There's a difference."
I hung up before he could lecture me further and finished my espresso in three swallows. The penthouse was quiet—too quiet sometimes, if I was being honest. Just expensive furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a city that never really slept.
My mind drifted, unbidden, to three nights ago. To a woman with sharp wit and even sharper comebacks, who'd looked at me like I was just a man instead of Louis Romano, owner to a business empire. Who'd kissed me like she meant it.
I'd left before she woke up because that's what I did. Always had. Getting attached to people was a liability I couldn't afford.
So why couldn't I stop thinking about her?
The drive to Romano Industries took twenty minutes in morning traffic. My driver, Robert, knew better than to attempt conversation before nine AM, which was one of many reasons he'd worked for me for five years.
The executive floor was already buzzing when I arrived. My assistant, Patricia—sixty years old and the only person in the building who wasn't afraid of me—handed me a tablet before I'd even reached my office.
"Nakamura group is in conference room A. Your father called three times. The Martinez account needs your signature, and there's a situation developing with the Henderson contract that Marcus wants to discuss after your ten o'clock."
"Good morning to you too, Patricia.".
"It's morning. Whether it's good is debatable." She followed me into my office, still listing things. "Also, someone from marketing is coming up to submit the quarterly analysis." She informed me. "She'll be here within the hour."
I grunted acknowledgment and tossed my jacket over the back of my chair. The Nakamura meeting was exactly as predicted—two hours of posturing and subtle intimidation tactics that might have worked on someone less experienced.
By the time they left, we had a signed agreement on terms even more favorable than my original offer.
"You're a shark," Marcus said afterward, loosening his tie. "I almost felt bad for them."
"Almost?" I scowled at him.
"Very, very almost. Lunch?"
"Can't. Back-to-back meetings until three."
The rest of the day was a blur of conference calls, contract reviews, and strategic planning sessions. Romano Industries didn't maintain its position as one of the top companies in the region by accident—it required constant attention, constant adaptation, constant vigilance.
By five o'clock, my office had finally emptied of various executives and analysts. I poured myself two fingers of scotch from the bar cart near the windows and stood looking out at the city, watching it transition from day to night.
This was my life. Had been for ten years, since I'd taken over operations from my father. Successful by any measure. Lonely by most.
The scotch burned going down, familiar and grounding. I was contemplating a second when my office door opened.
I turned, ready to tell whoever it was to come back tomorrow, and the words died in my throat.
She stood in the doorway, professional in a skirt suit that was nothing like the dress from three nights ago, holding a file folder and looking like she'd seen a ghost.
Ethel. The woman from the club. The one-night stand I couldn't stop thinking about.
The woman who apparently worked for me.