Halfway through the drive, Tristan Davis drawled, "If I'd really waited another ten days to come back, would you have forgotten about me?"

Emily Blair pulled her lips into a quick smile. "What are you talking about? I have a pretty good memory, you know."

Tristan lounged back, looking more relaxed than he had a moment ago. “Well, good thing," he said, "I didn't catch any trace of men's cologne."

Emily didn't miss a beat. "Maybe you just forgot to wear yours."

The second she spoke, Tristan realized she'd misunderstood. He'd actually meant he didn't smell any other man's cologne on her, not that he'd forgotten his own. But Tristan had no intention of correcting her.

“That must be it,” he agreed easily.

Truth was, these last few days out of town had left Tristan perpetually on edge. Andrew Lane was still away on his own business trip in the capital, not home yet. Married, with kids, sure-but Tristan hadn't missed the look in Andrew's eyes whenever he glanced at Emily. As a man, Tristan could sense something different there, an undercurrent he didn't like.

He was wary of Andrew Lane for good reason. For one, Emily and Andrew had known each other for years, and Emily herself had admitted she'd once liked Andrew. Who was to say old feelings couldn't flare up again? On top of that, while Tristan trusted that Emily wouldn't be the kind of person to wreck someone's marriage, he definitely didn't extend that faith to Andrew. He knew all too well the flaws men had, and Andrew, with his power and connections—and his history with Emily—was too much of a threat to ignore.

While he was away, these thoughts plagued Tristan at all hours. He couldn't help but wonder if Emily had seen Andrew. If they had met, would Andrew try something Emily didn't want? His mind spun with these questions, and he couldn't shake the anxiety.

Emily was a successful, beautiful woman—warm, poised, always considerate. Women like her never lacked for admirers. Tristan could count at least a dozen men who hovered around her, persistent as gnats you just couldn't swat away.

In the end, Tristan realized he couldn't wait any longer. The feeling gnawed at him until he went to his superior, asking to move up his deadlines and finish his work as soon as possible. He barely slept more than a handful of hours in those few days, but finally, he managed to return home today.

By the time he arrived at The Serenity, it was already past midnight. Normally, Emily would have been home long ago. But when he knocked on her door, it was Emma George who answered, telling him Emily hadn't come back yet.

Emma tried to reassure him. "Don't worry about her. She's probably still working late at the office."

But Tristan's first reaction was suspicion. He couldn't help it—he was genuinely worried Emily might be seeing someone else behind his back.

When all his messages to Emily went unanswered, his anxiety hit full throttle. He rushed straight to her office building. From the street, he could see her office right away—one of the highest floors, the only window still glowing with light.

The moment he saw that light, a wave of relief washed over him.

He'd actually been waiting downstairs for nearly an hour before texting Emily to say he was coming by-which, in truth, he already had.

Standing there, looking up at the lit window, Tristan felt something strange and solid settle inside him. A sense of certainty and comfort he hadn't even felt when he first bought his own place at The Serenity.