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Blaire stops crunching her toast and stares at me. “You’re lying.”

“No. He didn’t recognize me.” I’m sure of it. “Whatever. I’ll call you once I get to work; I have to fix my hair.”

I end the call on her protest. Dress. Tame my sex hair, pulling it into a slick back bun and finishing it off with a small, pearl barrette. Gold earrings. Gold necklace.

Satin ballet flats.

It’s thirty-five minutes later when I pull into the parking garage at the Ice Wolves corporate office, and my iced latte sloshes around the cup as I dash inside. My shoes are silent as I race across the sleek marble floors, a smile on my face as I walk through the department toward my new cubicle.

Movement in the hallway.

Voices that are deep. Male.

My heart stops pounding, I swear it. And because I can’t stand not knowing, I wheel my chair back several inches to gape out the doorway of my hamster enclosure.

Aaron.

Of course it’s him…

In crisp dress pants. Blue button-down. Suit jacket slung over one shoulder looking like he stepped out of a businessmeeting. He’s mid-conversation with Brian from legal, head tilted, mouth fixed into a serious line.

Stand up and say something, Juliette…

Don’t be a shrinking violet.

My palms press to the armrests preparing to stand. I draw in a breath, shove my chair back, and?—

“Jules!”

Ugh!

No, dammit, no.

I turn slowly.

My brother stands in all his overconfident, handsome, six-foot-two glory: energy drink in hand, crooked badge, locked-and-loaded grin flashing with fake teeth.

“Holy shit, there you are,” Declan says. “I’ve been walking up and down this floor ; fucking dipshit looking for you.” His grin is big and giddy. “Look how cute you are in your little office. I should take a picture for Mom and Dad.”

“Please don’t.” I plop back into my chair. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a healthy chug of his drink, tossing the can into my trash as if he were tossing a basketball. “Meeting.”

Ahh.That must be what Aaron is doing here.

I rise on my haunches, trying to catch another glimpse at him, and my brother catches me, eyes trailing to his right as I make eye contact with Aaron above the top of my office.

His eyes are on Declan now, and if I had to put a name to the expression on his face it would behostile.

Something passes over his face, dark as a storm cloud as his gaze lingers, eyes snapping from me to my brother, frown growing. Declan’s entire demeanor goes from cheerful and chatty to downright agitated.

“What?” I ask, fidgeting in my seat, hyper-aware of his intense gaze.

Declan watches me quietly. “Seriously, Juliette? Aaron Bishop?”

I feign ignorance. “I have no idea why you’re using his name in a sentence right now.”

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Don’t do that.”