The familiar scent of old scotch and aged wood clung to my office. The only company I had in these busy days.

I tipped back the last of my drink, letting it burn down my throat as I flipped through the endless paperwork littering my desk. Contracts. Campaign proposals. Donation ledgers. All the makings of a mayoral run I never wanted... until now. This was a means to an end. This was all to find him.

I signed another document and dropped it onto the stack, trying desperately but failing to keep my mind off her.

Cathrine.

She'd showed up on my doorstep the minute I wanted for leave the bar. Those green eyes smoldering my thoughts, her skin flushed from the cold. That face still haunted me, even three years after our first encounter.

It was raining the night we met. I'd just flown back from Boston. She collided into me at the airport, coffee spilling between us. She apologized, flustered, and I nearly walked away until she smiled.

I was fourty five and convinced my heart was long dead. But then she smiled, and I knew I was screwed.

Yeah, I stalked her. I'm not proud of it but when I realized I was going in too deep, I stopped. Got rid of all her files and buried myself in work instead... that's until Jayden brought her home a few months later, grinning like the cocky little prince he's always been.

My hands curled into fists just thinking about it. And now, tonight, she was back, standing on my front steps, a storm in her eyes.

I sighed, running a hand down my face, holding the same contract that had been in my hand for the past ten minutes. This wasn't working. I-

My thoughts were cut off by the front door, slamming shut. I frowned. Catherine had just come in, and neither of them wouldn't leave unless something was wrong. 

I shot up from my seat and out of the door in time to see Catherine run and stop at the top of the stairs, looking at the door that just closed. I moved closer, up the stairs until I stopped safe distance from her. She hadn't noticed me, her gaze was still glued to the door, her dark hair curtained her face from my view.

"Cathrine?" I called, carefully.

No response.

I walked up slowly, closing the distance until I was a few steps away. I caught the glint of her bare hand.

No ring.

"Cathrine," I said again, softer.

She turned to me slowly. Her eyes were swollen and red. Tear tracks stained her cheeks. My heart clenched in a way it hadn't in decades. I didn't think. My hands lifted to cradle her face, my thumbs brushing the dampness from her skin.

"Talk to me," I whispered. "Who hurt you?"

Her hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. She looked at me like she was trying to remember how to speak.

"I don't... I don't understand what I did wrong," she said in a low resigned voice. "I just wanted something for myself. And now I've lost the only man I ever cared about."

I grit my teeth, forcing back the anger bubbling in my chest. I gently took her hand and pried her fingers open. Blood streaked her palm. Her engagement ring was still nestled there with the sharp edges biting into her skin.

"Come on," I murmured, guiding her down the stairs. "Let me help."

She didn't speak, didn't nod. Just followed me like a ghost of herself. I set her on the counter, ignoring the jolt that ran through me when my fingers brushed her hands. I rummaged the cupboard and found the first aid kit, crouched in front of her, tending to the wound in silence.

When I finished wrapping her hand, I straightened. "Do you want a drink?"

She didn't answer. Just stared past me like the world had gone gray.

I took her hand again and led her gently into my office. The fire was still burning low. She curled onto the couch, small and fragile. Too damn fragile. I grabbed the good rum. The expensive one. Poured two glasses and brought them over.

"Here," I offered.

She took the glass with trembling fingers and downed it in one go. I raised a brow and chuckled softly. "Easy, Cathrine."

She winced at the burn, then held out her glass. "Again."

She scrunched up her face, downing the second glass. I didn't scold her, I let her do what she wanted because I knew this girl. She'd never done anything for herself in a long long time. We drank. In silence. Then another round. And another. Somehow, somewhere in between the third refill and the fourth, the Monopoly board made its way out.

"I just bought a hotel, Mr. Rich Guy," she said proudly, her eyes were  glassy with alcohol.

I chuckled. "One investment doesn't make you a mogul, Cathrine."

"Maybe not," she swayed slightly, "but I'll own the whole damn street soon. You better keep up."

I shook my head, amused and utterly entranced. We reached for the same stack of fake money and our hands brushed sending distress signals straight to my groin.

We both froze.

The laughter died. Her breath caught. Time slowed, the world zoomed in to just the two of us. Her lips parted and my gaze dipped. She tried to take her mind back but my body moved on it's own and I grabbed her wrist.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she inhaled, lips parting ever so slightly.

God help me, I wanted to kiss her.

My hand curled around her wrist and my thumb brushed against her pulse. Her skin was warm, soft, so alive.

"Ronald..." she breathed.

And then my phone rang. The moment shattered. I cursed under my breath, releasing her hand and answering it. My secretary, ranting about a scheduling issue. I barely heard a word.

When I finally ended the call, she was already halfway to the door.

"Cathrine-"

"Thanks for the company, Mr Turner," she said, not quite meeting my eyes. "I'll order a Lyft."

"No," I said too quickly. "Stay. Use the guest room. It's late, and I'd rather not have you wandering around outside like this."

She hesitated, chewing her lower lip. Then nodded once. "Goodnight... Mr. Turner."

Before I could respond, she was gone.

Damn it. What the hell was wrong with me?

The Detriot office buzzed like a beehive... deals, deadlines, and desperation hanging in the air. I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar chaos steady me.

"Miss Catherine," Shelly, my assistant, chirped. Her eyes flicked to my left hand,, my now bare ring finger. I pasted on my most polished smile, hiding the sting.

"Something wrong?" I asked, though I already knew.

She blinked, then gave a nervous laugh. "No, no! It's just... you'd already said you were done for the year. I didn't expect to see you back so soon."

"I changed my mind," I said coolly, adjusting my grip on my bag. "What's on the docket?"

Shelly hesitated. "Well... if you're sure. There's one project that's behind schedule. Local election in Detroit. The mayoral race. It's a mess but it's winnable." She handed me a folder with too many post-its.

I nodded, taking my coffee and heading toward my office. Shelly followed, rattling off deadlines.

"The candidate's high-profile, lots of donor traction. He's got the funding, just needs the polish. You'll whip it into shape."

"Who's the client?" I asked, eyes scanning the report.

"Mr. Ronald Turner."

I stopped cold. My breath hitched, my head snapped up to find a pair of blue eyes staring back at me.

"Good morning, Catherine," Mr Turner said smoothly. "I look forward to working with you."

No. No, no, no.

My brain short-circuited, flashing back to three nights ago... his calloused hands on my face, the heat in his gaze, the almost-kiss. Just a blur of Monopoly money, expensive rum, and dangerously frayed restraint. I shook my head. It was just the alcohol making overthinking. Nothing happened.

I took in a shaky breath and smiled. "Mr Turner, Star heights will take care of every of your needs. You just sit back and relax."

His lips curled into a faint smirk. "That's why I pay good money." He stood, buttoning his tailor made suit and stretched out his hand for a handshake. "Make me mayor Catherine."

I shook it, ignoring the way his touch lingered. "We're only as good as our clients."

We locked eyes for way too long.

Shelly cleared her throat behind me. "Here's the campaign schedule... it's tight, but nothing Catherine can't juggle."

Her voice faded into background noise. My thoughts screamed: What sin did I commit to end up stuck with my ex's father? One who nearly kissed me.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. As Shelly packed up for the holidays, I stopped her.

"Hey, Shelly," I said. "I don't think this project is the best one for me. I'll need you to write an email to the board."

She blinked. "Wait-what?"

"I called off the engagement. Jayden and I are done."

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh."

Just "oh." No sympathy. No shock. I guess I'd been the only one fooled.

"I just... I think it would be too weird," I said quietly.

She grinned. "Nonsense, you're a boss chick. Screw some trust fund kid. If you do this? It would open up doors for you Miss Catherine. I'm talking about you going straight to being a board member."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." She pointed a lacquered nail at me. "This is your moment. You want freedom? You want time for your sister? You finish this job. Nail this campaign, and you'll never have to answer to anyone again."

She slung her purse over her shoulder, pausing just long enough to deliver the final punchline:

"Besides, now you get to work up close and personal with Mr. Turner. Why settle for the colt when you could have the stallion?"

And with that, she sauntered off, hips swaying, leaving me speechless in the hallway. I shook my head chuckling to myself.

I grabbed my bag, getting into the car and the engine revved to life as I sped through the streets. My mind spun. If this campaign succeeded, I could slow down. I could breathe. Ellie and I could move into a bigger place. She'd have more space. Better care. Hell, we could even take a trip. Something normal. Something happy.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and stepped out, the cold nipping at my skin. Inside, the elevator took me to the top floor... Ellie's floor. I guess the Turner family hadn't pulled their support just yet.

The door creaked open as I stepped into the room. The sterile smell of antiseptic clung to everything, the rhythmic sound of the EKG matched my heartbeat. She was asleep, clinging to her stuffed pillow.

I smiled, perching on the side of the bed and she stirred, her lashes fluttering open.

"Katie?" She croaked, rubbing her eyes.

"Hey, sport. Miss me?" 

Her eyes lit up and she threw herself at me with her arms tight around my neck. "Of course I missed you! They dragged me out of class. I just fainted, that's all. Total overreaction."

She pulled back with a pout. "I'm sure everyone stared. What if it happens at the school dance? What if they think I'm some diseased freak?"

I ran my fingers through her hair. "I don't care what they think, Ellie. All I care about is that you're okay. Everyone else can shove it."

She giggled then coughed. I was on my feet instantly, grabbing water. She took it gratefully and drank but her eyes were glassy with defiance.

"I'm fine, Katie. You worry too much. Look at your frown lines."

I gasped, feigning offense. "How dare you."

Her eyes flickered to my fingers and I exhaled sharply, already knowing where this was headed. "Ellie-"

"Did you dump that douchebag?" she interrupted brightly. "Thank God. I was worried I'd be stuck with him as a brother-in-law forever."

I snorted. "That douchebag pays for your VIP room."

She arched her brow. "You mean his dad does?"

"Same difference."

She wrinkled her nose. "Still a douchebag."

And just like that, she changed the subject, typical Ellie, launching into gossip and stories. We spent the night trading laughter for worry, and for a little while, everything felt almost normal.

Almost.

The Christmas Eve Carol.

Detroit's biggest gathering of the year.

People packed every inch of the city square, bundled in coats and scarves, rosy-cheeked from the cold and filled with holiday cheer. Laughter echoed through the streets, the air thick with the scent of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and fresh snow.

But my insides were in knots.

I was supposed to be sipping mulled wine with Jayden, kissing under twinkling lights, pretending our relationship wasn't already on fire. Instead, I was here, wrapped in my thickest coat and lonelier than I had ever been.

"Why do you look like you're about to open the dam of tears?" Stacey nudged me, handing over a cup of hot chocolate. Snow sat pretty on her lashes, like she was part of a postcard.

I tried to smile, failed, and exhaled instead. "Because my life is about to end."

She snorted. "Dramatic much? Carol is dense, we all came to that conclusion the first week of college." Her breath misted in the air. "Still, what she did was next-level backstabbing."

I didn't respond. There wasn't much to say. I'd walked in on my boyfriend having sex with my friend... no amount of therapy or tequila would unsee that.

Stacey looped her arm through mine. "Look on the bright side. She saved you from ending up with a misogynistic manchild, you landed the biggest job of your career, Ellie got discharged early, and you get to spend Christmas with her."

She smiled, warm enough to melt the ice that had nestled in my chest. "Next year, you're starting out as a whole new woman. Fiercer, sexier, and maybe, just maybe you'll finally go for the silver fox."

I laughed despite myself. "I'm not going after my ex's father, Stacey. That's a mess waiting to happen."

"Just think about it," she fanned herself dramatically. "Hot, steamy office romance. It's giving power play."

I groaned. "Please. Can we not?"

"Fine, fine," she said, grinning like the devil. "But if he ever pulls a Christian Grey on you, just know I told you so."

I shook my head, smiling as we waded through the crowd to get a better view of the stage. A trio of elves... okay, teenagers in velvet costumes started strumming their guitars, and then the singing began.

The voices of hundreds joined in. It was beautiful, in a chaotic kind of way. And for a second, I felt lighter. Maybe Stacey was right. Maybe next year would be better.

Halfway through the second song, she leaned close. "I'm gonna grab us some candles."

I nodded, watching her disappear into the sea of people. I was still smiling when a voice from behind knocked the wind right out of me.

"Catherine."

My heart stuttered and I snapped my head back.  Blue eyes like winter sky, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked maddeningly calm despite the noise and color and movement around us.

"Mr Turner," I breathed. A bystander shoved past, pushing me forward, I stumbled, but he caught my arm, steadying me with alarming ease.

"Call me Ronald, Catherine," he said, that smooth tone making my spine straighten. "We'll be working together for a while. Might as well get comfortable."

"In a business sense," he added.

"Sure... thing. Mr. Turner... I mean, Mr Ronald." I stammered, pulling gently away from his grasp.

"Just Ronald is fine."

I nodded too fast. "My friend's been gone a while. I should... probably go check on her."

I didn't wait for his response, I bolted like a deer escaping headlights. God, why couldn't I be as cool as Stacey? My cheeks burned as I reached the candle stand and scanned the crowd.

No sign of her.

I pulled out my phone, texting her as I walked, weaving through bundled-up bodies. I hadn't taken two steps when I slammed into someone.

"Ah... I'm sorry I-" the words died in my mouth as I laid eyes on the last person on earth I wanted to see. 

"It seems you can't stay away," He drawled, flashing a sleazy smirk, the same one he pulled every time he was drunk out of his mind. There was a girl hanging off his arm... brunette, glitter makeup, dead in the eyes.

I rolled my eyes, despite the way my heartbeat thundered. There was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me down. He was the one who messed up.

"This is a public space, Jayden. Not everything revolves around you."

He scoffed. "We're already over, Catherine. No need to keep pretending you didn't want it to happen."

I took a breath. "I didn't want to walk in on you screwing Carol on my couch, Jayden." My voice was louder than I intended and heads turned.

His grin faltered. The girl on his arm blinked.

I gestured to her. "If you have two brain cells, you'll run now and never look back. He doesn't know the first thing about commitment. And the sex?" I leaned in with false sweetness. "Wasn't that good. I had to fake every moan so his pride wouldn't cry itself to sleep."

The girl snorted. Jayden's face twisted. He yanked his arm away from her and stepped toward me. "You crazy b-"

He swung aiming for my face but the slap never landed. A hand gripped his wrist mid-air. My eyes snapped. Mr. Turner.

His usually calm expression was gone, replaced with something terrifyin... fury burning in his eyes.

"You've had too much to drink," he said evenly, but the threat in his voice was razor-sharp. "You're not thinking straight. Walk away before we both do something you'll regret."

Jayden yanked his wrist free, looking between me and his father.

"Is this some kind of 'good cop' moment?"

He shrugged, glancing at me. "Translate it however you want. Besides... she's not the one swinging fists."

Jayden sneered. "Whatever." He turned, grabbing the girl roughly by the wrist. "Let's go." She hesitated, then followed him.

The moment they were gone, Mr. Turner looked at me. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," I said, even though it wasn't. "I think I've had enough drama for one night. Just need to find Stacey, then I'll head home."

"I'll stay with you until you're in a cab," he offered.

"I'll be fine."

"I insist."

I hesitated... then nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

We barely moved a step before the world split open.

A thunderous blast exploded in the center of the square with bright light, flames, people screaming, chaos blooming like firecrackers.