I'm twenty-three years old, seventy thousand dollars in debt, and currently watching my boss have a meltdown in a corner office that costs more per month than I make in a year. "Get out." Vanessa Cross stands behind her desk in a white silk blouse that's half-unbuttoned, her blazer on the floor, one heel kicked off somewhere near the window. She's holding a crystal tumbler of bourbon, and her lipstick is smudged at one corner like she tried to wipe it off and gave up halfway. I should leave. I came up here to drop off the revised Q3 projections she demanded by midnight, and clearly I've walked into something private. But I can't stop staring at her—not because she's half-dressed, though that's part of it, but because I've never seen Vanessa Cross look anything less than perfectly controlled. "I said get out, Liam." "I'm just—" "Do you know what a seventy-million-dollar deal sounds like when it dies?" She takes a drink, her hand steady despite everything else. "It sounds like Richard Hartfield telling you he's 'pursuing other opportunities.' That's corporate for 'I don't trust you anymore.'" I set the folder on the chair by the door. "I'm sorry." "No you're not." She walks around the desk, barefoot now, and I realize she's taller than I thought—five-ten, maybe more. Her hair is dark and sleek, pulled back in a way that makes her face look sharper than it probably is. She's thirty-six, according to the Forbes profile I read when I started here six months ago. She built Cross Technologies from nothing, and now she's about to lose it. "You're twenty-three. You don't even know what sorry means yet." "I know my mom's hospital bills are three months overdue and the collection agency called twice today." That stops her. She looks at me—really looks at me—for the first time since I walked in. Her eyes are pale gray, the kind that look silver in certain light. "How much do you owe?" "Seventy thousand. Give or take." She sets the glass down. "Stay." "What?" "I said stay." She crosses her arms, and I watch her decide something. "I have a deal for you, Liam. And if you're smart, you'll say yes." I should leave. I should absolutely leave. I stay.