Page 69 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"Productive." Mark signals the server.

"Closed the distribution deal with the BBC affiliate. Should see revenue start flowing by Q2."

"Good."

The server appears, and I order a whiskey neat. Mark leans back in his chair, studying me.

"You look tired," he observes.

"Busy week."

"Busy month," he corrects.

"You've been running at full capacity since you got back from Chicago."

I don't respond. He's not wrong.

My drink arrives, and I take a long sip. The whiskey burns going down, warmth spreading through my chest.

"So," Mark says after a moment.

"It's been what, two weeks since that whole mess with Miles's wedding?"

I tense slightly. "About that."

"Have you talked to him?"

"No." I set my glass down.

"I stopped trying to call him. My mom spoke to him, so he's alive and well, apparently. But I just don't have the time or bandwidth for that."

Mark nods slowly.

"Fair enough. What he did was unforgivable."

"Yes."

"And the girl? Scarlett?" Mark's tone is careful.

"Did Miles ever reach out to her? Try to fix things?"

I pause, longer than I realize as I stare down into my glass before taking another drink.

"I don't know. I don't know how you start and reconcile after something like that."

Mark watches me for a beat too long, like he's trying to read something I'm not saying. Then he shifts the conversation to safer territory—business deals, market trends, mutual contacts.

I participate in the conversation, but my mind is elsewhere. On a woman I haven't seen in two weeks. On two text messages that went unanswered. On thememory of her body against mine in a bathroom I can't seem to forget.

Mark is in the middle of telling me about a merger opportunity in Europe when my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and freeze.

Emma: URGENT. Call me immediately.

"Excuse me," I tell Mark, standing.

"I need to take this."

I step away from the seating area and dial Emma.