Laura gawked at the brunette woman before her, the sharp lines of her nose and jaw barely cutting through the daze after Laura was smacked with the full brunt of realisation.

She was Jack?

The woman that Celene was cheating with – and was pulling her to Flaco with a bribe?

What the fuck is going on?

Abject shock must have called itself home on Laura's face, because Marilyn and Jack shared a laugh and had to urge her to take a seat – twice.

"You'll have to excuse my texting etiquette, Laura." Jack settled in the chair beside and slid the water towards her. "I wasn't sure if you'd be... amenable to our offer."

Laura palmed the glass, unable to lift it to her lips. A million questions raced and fought to be launched from her tongue.

Jack sat back with a soft smile. "So, the heirs of Spectre and Langford are to be wed. I wonder what that means for your company." She leaned forward again, tenting her fingers. "But, more importantly, I wonder what that means for you."

Her blue eyes shot up to Laura.

She finally found the strength to take a swig of sizzling water. The gas singed down her throat and hit the quicksand pit that had formed in her stomach. She parted her lips to speak, but no words spilled forth.

Jack studied Laura's face with concern. "I hear you've been begging for crumbs from Spectre's crusty old contacts. Folks who go around bragging about how long they've been 'friends', but none are loyal enough to pull out their pennies without having to ask. Frankly, that sort of work is beneath you – wouldn't you agree, Laura?"

Jack paused, her face frozen in a knowing stare.

Laura could no longer deny the sinking feeling that enveloped her every time she stepped away from a client meeting. Shame. Pure, unadulterated shame that prickled her ego and needled her with doubt and insecurity.

Jack pressed on. "Do you know what I'm tired of, Laura? I'm sick of being second place to a woman I love, while some second-rate billionaire with a sordid past gets to slap a title on her."

Her striking blue irises bore into Laura. "Now, what would the industry think if Langford and Spectre had to split? A scandal like that would wreck their reputation. Meanwhile, you, my friend, will be living it up with us."

Desperate for an edge, Laura burst out with the urgent question that raced from her tongue.

"What are you offering?"

Jack chuckled, opening her palms wide. "If you agree, we're looking at our future director of marketing. No more begging for scraps, Laura. People will be falling at your feet to give you money."

The title swirled in her mind. Director of marketing. It was near unheard of for someone her age, but she was damn well deserving of it. She nervously studied Jack, whose gaze swam with a haunting look that resembled pity.

"Look, I get it. This is a lot to process. Take the weekend to think about it. And when you're ready, all you need to do is take this to the editor of the Pharma Post."

A golden thumb drive glinted in the cold light as Jack pulled it from her pocket.

"The sharks will have a feast. Then, come to us with your hard work. The fruits of your sweat and labour. We'll make your dreams come alive."

Jack reached out and placed the drive into her palm, closing it with a comforting pat. "Look around you, Laura. We are the future – and the future is where you belong."

♥

The thumb drive in her pocket pressed insistently against her thigh as Laura inched back into the Spectre office. The sun had already begun its descent into the coral sky, but she thought it prudent to return so that she wouldn't raise any suspicions among their sharp-eyed staff.

Staff like Geri.

But, as it turned out, she didn't have to bother at all. The office was completely deserted, a lone light glowing from the pantry.

Laura sighed, trudging across the dim floor towards her desk. She might as well clear up some work and grab her boxing gloves, since she'd gone through the trouble of parking and getting up here.

She planted onto her chair, hearing the old thing strain from the pressure. Her spine wept, longing for the luxuriously high seatbacks at Flaco.

As her laptop hummed back to life, her mind answered the red flag that had been waving for her attention.

How did Jack get her number?

She had no connections with Flaco, and none of her clients would hand over her contact without consulting her first.

But, now that she knew who Jack really was, she could finally fill in the missing link.

Celene Langford.

"Laura?"

She startled and swivelled around, coming face-to-face with Charlie, who looked thoroughly surprised – and disturbingly sexy. He had changed out of his workwear into a black henley tee that freed up his neckline, allowing his delicious collarbone to peek out. The cotton clung to his chest and ran down into a ripped grey jean.

Laura violently suppressed the teenage rebel that his outfit resurrected in her.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered. "I thought you'd left."

Before she could eject from her chair, he strode forward swiftly and anchored his hands to her table, trapping her between his arms. His face hovered hungrily over hers, and she sucked in a breath.

Big mistake.

The forgotten memory of his cedarwood scent flooded her senses, ruthlessly eating away her self-restraint.

"Talk to me, Laura." His voice was demanding, but it belied the sorrow that swam in his eyes. "What can I do to make this work for us?"

"Not being trapped beneath you would be a good place to start."

The chuckle that resounded from his chest was heavy and dour, but Charlie refused to budge, casting her an expectant gaze that dug into her conscience and yanked at her heart. Even if she planned on leaving Spectre, she couldn't discard their friendship and leave this man unprepared for the incoming storm.

"I don't trust Celene," she whispered. "Be careful of her."

"Why? Because she's seeing other women?"

She blinked. He knew.

And he seemed utterly blasé about it.

"She's not that simple," she retorted, squirming as she felt his breath tickle her neck. He lowered his lips, coming within a perilous inch of her own.

"And I suppose you are?" he snarled.

Her breath stubbornly hitched in her throat, Laura barely squeaked out her defiance.

"No."

He reached a hand to her chin and forcefully gripped her jaw.

"Then prove it."

Fuck boundaries.

Lust smashed through the dam of restraint as Laura crashed her lips against his. Her hands shot up to his arms, her fingers curling around the bulk of his biceps. He licked her bottom lip and she moaned against his lapping tongue, eager to drink in the ecstasy that had been kept away for so damn long.

His palm found its way to the crook of her neck and he yanked her upwards, pulling her deeper into their sensual struggle. As she launched from her chair and her weight teetered forward, she instinctively wrapped her arms over his shoulders, her whole body falling into his with urgent desire.

"Fuck..." He broke the kiss, murmuring against her gasping mouth. "You have no idea how hard it's been to stop myself from doing that."

Laura hyperventilated, her chest heaving in disbelief. She just kissed an engaged man.

She just kissed an engaged man.

"I told you, Celene won't mind." Charlie gazed softly down at her. "Yes, I know you're still bothered by it."

"That's not the point," Laura gingerly pulled her arms away from his sculpted shoulders and swiped her belongings from her desk. "You're engaged to her. I won't be some playboy's second place."

Charlie sighed, ruffling his hair. "I don't know where you get that. I'm not a playboy. And you're not second place, Laura. You're also first, and third, and all of the other places, because you're the only one I want."

She shook her head, rejecting the fantasy. She'd just given him a greater parting gift than she could afford, and now all she could do was quickly repair the brick wall that she'd wilfully torn down.

Refusing to look at him, she turned away, smoothing down her shirt, and sat back into her chair.

"Have a good evening, Charlie."

♥