Page 89 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

I’ve negotiated multimillion-dollar acquisitions. Yet, I’m worried about making a phone call.

I swipe her number away, turn for the door.

Then stop.

Open her contact again.

Close it again.

“Fuck,” I whisper…and tap the screen.

The call begins to ring through.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Voicemail.

“Fuck,” I whisper again, my fingers clenching on the phone so hard it creaks in protest. Then I jab at the screen, ending the call before I can do something as pathetic as leave a sad message begging her to forgive me and call me back.

Dumb.

So fucking dumb.

My phone buzzes with a call and I nearly drop it. “H-hello?”

“Thorn?” River says. “Is everything okay?”

God.

I close my eyes.

Because I forgot.

Not what her voice sounds like.

Just…how much I missed hearing it.

“Are you there?”

I open my mouth, can’t get my tongue to form words.

River sighs quietly. “What do you need, Thorn?”

I wince.

Not because she sounds angry.

But because she’s polite. Steady. Distant.

And that’s a hundred fucking times worse.

I grip the phone tighter. “I, uh, wanted to see how you’re doing.”

The moment the words leave my mouth I know they’re wrong.