"Whoa, slow down. You almost knocked me over."

It's Steve, the IT guy. He relaxes his grip and lets go of me once he realizes I'm steady on my feet.

"How did you get here so quickly?" I ask him.

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you walking this way from the other side of the file room."

He looks puzzled. "That wasn't me. I just got off the elevator because I wanted to check on some antivirus software I've been running, then I headed this way because I thought I heard someone call out, but I couldn't make out what they said."

"That was me. I heard someone walking behind me and got a little creeped out when I called hello and they didn't answer."

"Hmm. I thought the office was empty. Let's go check it out."

I follow Steve back through the file room and the kitchen and break room, turning on lights as we go.

"You were working here in the dark?" he asks me.

"Well, my office light was on, but I guess I lost track of time. When I came out to leave my hallway was dark, and so was the rest of the office."

"That's odd. Typically everyone leaves the lights on since the cleaning crew will be coming. And then they shut everything off for the night when they're done."

We do a whole circle of the office, including the hallway to my own office. My door is shut, and everything looks exactly how I left it.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone here," Steve says. "Are you sure you heard someone?"

"I think so." I shake my head. "Maybe someone was here and they left while we were colliding in the hallway."

"Maybe," he says. "But if that's the case, we should have heard the elevator chime."

He's right. But I need to downplay this a little bit so he doesn't think I'm a nut case, imagining things that aren't there. Or so easily frightened by an empty office in the evening.

"Do we have any exercise-obsessed lawyers in the firm who enjoy taking the stairs?"

He laughs. "Not that I know of. And particularly not considering just how high up we are from street level."

"Yeah," I agree. "I guess nobody's walking up and down all those flights of stairs to the 50th floor." I shrug. "Well, maybe I imagined it. Or maybe we just didn't hear the elevator." I'm putting on a good front but I think Steve can tell I'm a little shaken.

"If you want to come over to my office for a minute while I check the software I'll be done and I can walk you out to your car."

"Sure," I say. The last thing I want to do now is walk out to the mostly deserted parking garage alone. I know someone was in the office. Someone who didn't answer when I called out.

And I have no idea where that person is now.

* * *

By the time I get home, my grandparents have already retired for the evening, which is definitely a good thing. After everything that's happened today, I'm really not in the mood to pretend nothing's wrong. And I also don't want to spoil my grandfather's evening by telling him what Dylan attempted to do.

I'm hoping I can convince Jenny in the morning to come with me to meet with my grandfather, and explain how Dylan manipulated her. Once Andrew finds out that Dylan not only tried to sabotage his reputation but also took advantage of Jenny this way, surely he'll make the decision to fire him. It can't happen soon enough, as far as I'm concerned.

It had to have been Dylan lurking in the office tonight. There's no other explanation. As to how he disappeared, he may have just gone back into his own office, locked the door and left the lights off, then waited until he was sure Steve and I were gone.

I'm a little surprised he didn't just brazen it out. Come walking down the hallway and claim he was just working late, then ask us what all the commotion was. That actually seems more his style.

So possibly it wasn't Dylan. But if not him, who?

There's nothing more I can do tonight to solve that puzzle, so I make myself a sandwich, pour a glass of almond milk, and take both on a tray up to my room. Between what happened with Max in Paris, and the rush to stop Dylan today, not to mention still readjusting to the six-hour time difference between Paris and Miami, I'm both mentally and physically exhausted.

I set the tray down on my bed and change into comfy yoga pants and an oversize t-shirt, pick up the remote, and scroll through my options for movies. I'm looking for something with fast-paced action or, barring that, maybe one of these cooking competition shows.

Definitely not a romantic comedy.

I'm just settling in to a thriller about international espionage when Max's face lights up my phone screen. I almost don't answer it.

But I know he'll just keep calling. And if he still can't reach me, he might actually show up here.

I answer the phone.

"What do you want, Max?" I can hear the tiredness in my own voice.

"I was abrupt with you earlier today. I apologize. I was pressed for time."

The smooth tones of his voice only remind me of all the things he said in Paris. Before he pulled the rug out from under me and destroyed everything with one sentence on the trip back.

I thought I was exhausted, but I'm not too exhausted to be angry.

"You made yourself clear," I snap back at him. "You were there for my grandfather. Although what you think you could have done is beyond me."

"You underestimate me," Max says.

"Really? It seems to me I took care of Dylan Barclay's little plot against my grandfather all by myself." Well, all by myself with a little help from Jenny, CJ and Martina. But Max doesn't have to know all the details.

"I'm glad you made my intervention unnecessary," Max says.

I really just want to hang up the phone. But I'm also curious now what exactly Max was planning to do. March into a room full of lawyers and drag Dylan out by his ear? Yeah, that would have gone well.

"So, I'm waiting."

"You're waiting?"

"For you to tell me what your plan was, Mr. Jump In And Save The Day."

Max pauses, and for a few moments I think maybe he will just hang up the phone and end the conversation. But he doesn't.

"I know you're angry, Hadley."

"Angry? Angry? Yes, I'm angry. What did you expect?"

"I expected you to acknowledge the fact that we cannot be together and our lives have to more on from here," Max says, sounding infuriatingly reasonable. "I expected you to appreciate the time we had together in Paris as something to look back on and remember fondly."

Remember fondly? That ball of anger that's been simmering inside me this whole conversation explodes.

"Bullshit. I hate you." Just saying it is making my head throb. And the fact that I'm sitting here on my bed having this conversation only makes it worse. It makes me think of all the sexy conversations I've had with Max from one bed or another when he was away on business and called me late at night.

It makes me think of all the things we've done in bed together, and how emotionally vulnerable I was to him in Paris. Paris, where I was so swept up in the romance of it all, so filled with love for him, that I would have been willing to leave my job, my family, my life, and go anywhere in the world together just to be with him.

For me, it seemed like that trip marked a new beginning. For Max, it marked the end for us.

I feel my eyes filling with hot, angry tears and I brush them aside. No more crying over you, Max. I just can't do it anymore.

"I know you think you hate me now," Max says, his voice low, "but in time you'll realize that this was for the best."

All I can think is you condescending piece of shit. How dare you say something like that to me? How dare you presume to know what's "best" for me when you've broken my heart. And in the patient I-know-better-than-you tone of voice that just adds insult to injury.

"You know what Max? You're just a privileged guy who thinks he gets to have everything his own way. I would never - never - have gone to Paris with you and opened up my heart like that if I'd had any inking that you had agreed to marry Angelica. Angelica, for God's sake. She's almost like a little sister to you."

"She's not my sister, and I do plan to marry her." His voice is several degrees cooler now. "What I don't plan to do is have this same conversation with you over and over again."

"Well then maybe you shouldn't have called me."

"Maybe not. I have an obligation to your grandfather. A debt my father owes, and I will pay it regardless of your feelings in the matter. No one is going to destroy Andrew Reese's reputation. Not on my watch."

I take a deep breath. This is pointless. Talking to Max is only making me more miserable.

But I still want to know

"You haven't told me what you would have done today. I assume you found out about this by Martina calling Gabe?"

"That's right. I was downstairs in the lobby. If Martina hadn't gotten the word that everything was going smoothly and texted me, a hotel employee would have interrupted the meeting to say there was an urgent message and a delivery at the front desk for Dylan Barclay. And when he got off the elevator an associate of mine and I would have escorted him out of the hotel. He would not have come back."

I take in a quick breath and my hands go icy. "You mean not ever?" I ask in an almost whisper.

And Max laughs.

"He would not have come back to the meeting. I would have had a . . . conversation with him, Hadley. Used a little persuasion to get him to change his mind about causing any harm to Andrew."

"Oh." I was having visions of Dylan, terrified, sitting in between Max and his unnamed "associate" in the back of the classic Bentley while Enzo drove them into the Everglades. And the trio returning without him.

"I have my own way of doing business that gets things done." Max says. "It's not my father's way, or Uncle Eddie's. But it's highly effective."

There's silence for a few moments. I feel like there's nothing else to say, but I don't want to hang up the phone. My sandwich is sitting on the tray untouched. I've lost my appetite.

"Hadley, I want you to let me know if that guy Dylan gives you any trouble. Any trouble at all."

My mind goes immediately to Dylan trying to force me into the elevator with him after the meeting, and the dangerous look in his eyes when he said he'd see me later. The quiet footsteps this evening in the darkened office. The silence when I called out asking if anyone was there.

I hesitate. Should I tell Max what's going on? Or will that just cause more problems?