Chapter 9

Maya's POV:

I made it back to the Garrison Industries office by late afternoon. I walked straight to Julian’s office.

"Mission accomplished?" he asked.

"Delivered," I said, placing the receipt on his desk. "Directly to Mr. Sterling, as requested."

Julian studied my face for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"Did he give you a hard time today?"

I froze. "Excuse me?"

"Mr. Sterling and you had some disagreements back in Cleveland, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah! And it seems he hasn't moved past it." I paused, gauging Julian's reaction, then pushed forward. "I think my presence is a distraction. It might be more efficient for the company if someone else handled the face-to-face interactions with Sterling Global. Maybe Sarah could run the documents next time?"

Julian looked at me thoughtfully. For a second, I thought he might push for details.

Instead, he just nodded.

"Fair enough," he said. "I don't need his personal vendettas slowing down our deal. I'll have Sarah handle the courier runs from now on."

Relief washed over me so continually I almost slumped against the doorframe. "Thank you, Mr. Garrison. I really appreciate that."

"Don't mention it." He glanced at his watch. "It's five-thirty. You should head out—do you need a ride?"

"Oh, no thank you," I said quickly. "I'll catch the bus. It stops right near Amy's daycare."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Have a good night, Mr. Garrison."

I practically flew back to my desk, shoving my laptop and notebook into my bag with shaking hands. The elevator couldn't come fast enough. I jabbed the button three times, willing it to hurry.

When I finally burst out of the lobby and onto Tremont Street, I saw the taillights of the #43 bus pulling away from the curb.

"No, no, no—" I ran a few steps, waving my arm uselessly. The bus merged into traffic and disappeared around the corner.

Shit.

I checked my phone: 5:45 PM. The next bus wasn't due for another ten minutes.

A car horn beeped softly behind me.

I turned. Julian's silver Audi was idling at the curb, passenger window rolled down.

"Get in," he called.

I hesitated, gripping the strap of my bag. "Mr. Garrison, really, it's fine. The next bus—"

"Is ten minutes away," he said, cutting me off. "And you just missed yours because I kept you talking. Get in, Maya. I'm not asking."

I looked at my phone again. I didn't have a choice.

"Okay," I said, opening the door. "Thank you."

The interior smelled faintly of leather and cedar. I buckled my seatbelt as Julian pulled smoothly into traffic.

"Address?"

"Sunny Days Community Daycare. It's in Somerville, off Highland Avenue."

He punched it into the navigation system without comment. We drove in silence for a while, the city lights blurring past the rain-streaked windows. I kept glancing at the clock on the dashboard, watching the minutes tick by.

6:02 PM.

6:08 PM.

6:14 PM.

We hit a wall of brake lights on Cambridge Street. Julian drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then took a sharp right down a side street I didn't recognize.

"Shortcut," he said.

He navigated the narrow residential streets with the ease of someone who'd lived here his whole life. We pulled up to the curb in front of the daycare at 6:28 PM.

I unbuckled my seatbelt immediately. "Thank you so much, Julian. Really. You saved me a late fee."

"Don't worry about it." He nodded toward the building. "Go get your kid."

I hopped out and ran toward the entrance. The building was a converted brick house, cheerful but worn. I pushed through the front door, breathless.

Mrs. Anderson, the director, was standing by the sign-out sheet, tapping a pen against her clipboard. She looked at the clock on the wall, then at me.

"Ms. Bennett," she said. Her tone was clipped. "Cutting it close."

"I know, I'm so sorry," I said, signing the sheet with a shaking hand.

"You know the policy," she interrupted, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "Six-thirty sharp. If you're late, it's a dollar a minute. And if it happens more than twice a month, we have to reconsider Amy's enrollment."

My stomach dropped. "It won't happen again."

Mrs. Anderson's expression softened just a fraction. "She's in the reading nook. She's the last one."

I hurried down the hallway. Amy was sitting on a beanbag chair by the window, her little backpack already on her shoulders. She was tracing the pattern on the rug with her shoe.

When she saw me, her whole face lit up, that instant, pure joy that made every terrible part of my day vanish.

"Mommy!"

"Hey, baby girl." I scooped her up, burying my face in her soft, curly hair. She smelled like vanilla and finger paint. "Ready to go?"

"Yep! Mrs. Anderson said you were coming."

"I'm always coming for you. Always."

I carried her outside. Julian was still parked at the curb, leaning against his car.

Julian smiled. "Hey, kiddo. How was daycare?"

"Good! We learned about penguins."

"Penguins, huh? That's cool."

I set Amy down and took her hand. "We should get going. Thanks again for the ride."

Julian nodded. "See you tomorrow, Maya."

We walked toward the apartment. Amy chattered the whole way, telling me about the penguin documentary they'd watched and how penguins can hold their breath for twenty minutes.

---

Adam's POV

I looked up from the contract I was reviewing.

Maya was asleep.

Her head tilted back against the cushion, lips slightly parted. One hand rested on her lap.

I set down my pen.

I stood up and walked over to the couch. Sat down next to her.

She woke with a start, her eyes flying open. For a second, she looked confused. Then embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Sterling." She sat up quickly, her cheeks flushing red. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. Your office is just—it's very comfortable, and I didn't sleep well last night—"

"Why didn't you sleep well?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Last night," I said. "What kept you awake?"

"It's nothing. Just—"

"What were you doing?"

Her jaw tightened. "Mr. Sterling, with all due respect, that's not really your business."

I leaned back. "Were you with Julian?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Were you fucking him?"

She stood up. Fast. "That's—that's completely inappropriate—"

"Sit down."

"No."

"Maya." My voice was low. Dangerous. "Sit. Down."

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't move.

A knock on the door.

"What?" I snapped.

The door opened. One of the junior assistants stood there, looking terrified.

"M-Mr. Sterling, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Ms. Victoria Garrison is here. She'd like to invite you to dinner tonight—"