Page 8 of Bound Hearts

He crumples the paper bag of his now-eaten donut. “Trust me, I have many hidden skills.”

My eyes grow large because his sentence sounded partly cocky, partly tantalizing, and only makes me curious.

“Don’t put yourself on a pedestal,” I counter.

He grins as the sound of his phone going off breaks our conversation. “Sorry. I need to take this.” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, still with his mischievous smirk intact as he quickly checks the screen and swipes. “Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother greeting them. “No. Why would that be miscalculated? We always overbudget, so tell Mr. Look at a Fucking Weather Map to better read the terms.” He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, give me twenty, and I’ll check my laptop in the car and call you back.”

While Foster takes a moment to gather his thoughts, I admire how the man went from easygoing to completely ruthless and irritated in a matter of seconds. Reminds me of myself. It also reminds me that we work together. That can’t really be ignored.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds near tender when he talks to me. The opposite of whoever faced the brunt of that conversation. “I’m going to have to run. A client isn’t impressed that their products have to be rerouted and it’s going to cost a fortune. He doesn’t seem to believe a winter storm front could possibly disrupt their schedule.”

I grimace at his explanation. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be you right now.”

He reaches out, and his fingertips touch my shoulder, gently and familiarly. “Thanks for being my tour guide.”

“I was kind of roped into it, but I’ll accept it. Tour guides get tips,” I quip.

“I’ll have to think of one, Sutton.” He winks at me before he walks away.

I stand and watch as he melts into the crowd, feeling lighter than I have in ages. Our morning was effortless, unexpected. Banter flowed, our eyes kept finding each other, and that smirk—well, it’s going to live rent-free in my mind.

For a connection so smooth, it’s complex. Because burying attraction isn’t one of my strengths.

And that’s the trouble—every instinct I have is screaming that Foster is going to be a problem.

3

FOSTER

My fingers fly across my laptop keys. The hours of eight to ten in the morning are my prime hours to get work done without the interruption of half the department. Sure, my assistant Vicky briefs me exactly at eight, but after that, it’s my time of solitude with my laptop and the expensive view of Chicago from my corner office.

“Knock, knock.” I hear the voice of a cheery Celeste, who’s head of our legal department.

I glance at the corner of my screen—it’s 9:56, four minutes early. She hasn’t adhered to my no-meetings policy, and I don’t recall seeing this meeting on my calendar.

"Yes?" I barely pause my typing, keeping my eyes on the screen.

“We have a problem.”

That snaps my focus. I look up at her. We're the same age, and she’s all business in a gray suit, hair pulled so tight it could snap. “That’s not a sentence I want to hear.”

“Adam has kidney stones, which happened over the weekend, so he’s out.”

"Shit. He's one of our best lawyers."

Her face screws up in agreement. “Yeah. It also means he won’t be working on the Klink account.”

I sink into my custom leather chair. “They’re still just a prospect—we haven’t even finalized the contract yet,” I remind her.

They need to transport ever-updating computer chips and could become our biggest client, given their constant product flow. Julian invested significant effort to get them into our sphere. Now we must settle pricing, workload guarantees, and payment timelines before signing. I can't do this alone; I need one of our in-house lawyers to draft a strong liability clause and an iron-clad termination clause.

She crosses her arms while standing in the middle of my office, purposely ensuring her cleavage is lifted. “I’m well aware. It’s your job to come up with the figures, and it’s our job to ensure the contract is solid so there are no arguments later when unexpected costs arise. Also, to remind you that compliance exists for a reason.”

I steeple my fingers, elbows on the armrests of my chair. “What’s your solution? It’s your department. Figure it out.” I might sound clipped, but it’s the truth.

“You were supposed to work with Adam on legal, but his replacement was easy to find. I have someone who just finished onboarding. She's sharp, too.”

A smirk tugs at my lips. I can already see where this is headed. I should probably bolt, but I’m not about to. “Do go on,” I play along.