"Everything went well," I report to him. "We have Odermatt Corp."

  It may not have gone according to plan, but in the end, we were able to get the result we wanted, thanks to Ryker and Asher's presentations, the strings I pulled to get the missing files back, and Simone Odermatt's full cooperation.

  I was able to get the result I wanted.

  "Odermatt signed the papers?" Dad asks as he starts to descend.

  "Yes, but there is still more paperwork to be done before everything becomes final and official," I answer.

  My father reaches the bottom of the stairs. "But you have the program files?"

  "Yes."

  I already have them in a secure location.

  "And you're sure no one else has a copy of them? Like Preston or West Cove?"

  I let out a breath. I should have known my father already heard about the details of what happened in Zurich, including the fact that one of Odermatt's employees ran off with his files. He may no longer be the CEO, but it still is his company, as it will always be. None of the gears that keep it running turn without him knowing.

  "I'm sure," I tell him. "The investigative team I formed was able to ascertain that Jonas Schmidt didn't come in contact with anyone after he left the office building. He took the files for a personal reason. His father helped Simone Odermatt make them and he didn't want them in someone else's hands, so he took them and fled to a dead relative's house in Liechtenstein. He intended to destroy the files, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was found just locked up in his room."

  "I see." My father sits on the stairs. "That's the story he gave you?"

  I give him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

  What does he know that I don't?

  "Did Reuben talk to you?" I ask him.

  I have a feeling it was that cantankerous old man who told my father about all this. I wouldn't be surprised if he kept something from me while he was biting my head off over the phone.

  My father draws a breath. "Reuben is a fool. And a traitor. He paid Schmidt to steal those files. He was going to give them to either Preston or West Cove, whoever gave him more money. But I stopped him."

  My eyebrows furrow. "You stopped him?"

  My father grins. "I'm not completely useless yet, you know."

  Far from it.

  "But Schmidt had the files," I say. "And if not for the team I sent out, he wouldn't have been found. Are you saying you knew where he was all along?"

  "Schmidt had the files because I told him to hold on to them. I also told him to hide for a while."

  "Excuse me?"

  That was all my father's doing?

  "Odermatt still had doubts about selling his company, didn't he? I thought I'd give him some time to make up his mind."

  "So you let him believe he'd lost those files, his life's work, so that he'd realize that they'd be better off with us?"

  "Exactly. And after he'd made that realization, I told your team where Schmidt was and he was found right before you left Switzerland."

  I frown. So he really was the one pulling all the strings.

  The bitter taste of frustration rises in my throat. Until when am I going to be his puppet? When will I be able to call the shots for real?

  "You didn't think to tell me any of this?" I ask him.

  He could have spared me a great deal of anxiety.

  "I knew you would be able to handle it," he answers.

  Yeah, right. Except I didn't handle it. I didn't do anything.

  I walk past him and climb the stairs. "I'm going to my office. I still have work to do."

  And I don't want to let him make me feel like an incompetent fool anymore.

  "One last thing," my father says.

  Of course he's not going to let me go that easily.

  I stop on the steps. "What?"

  "Did you find yourself a woman in Switzerland?"

  My eyes grow wide. Did Reuben tell him about Stella, too? Or did he find out on his own?

  "No," I answer.

  He sighs. "Pity. I'm not getting younger, you know. Are you really going to deny me a grandchild?"

  Tempting.

  I look at him. "If you want another kid in the family, why don't you just marry again and make one yourself?"

  He snorts. "Marriage is too much trouble."

  "But you want me to marry?" Unbelievable.

  "I married because that's what you did back then," he says. "And if I hadn't, you wouldn't be here."

  I know, I know. I owe him my life.

  "But I'm not saying you have to," he continues. "What I am saying is that it's your turn to provide an heir for the company now."

  I narrow my eyes at him. "Has it ever occurred to you that I'm tired of you telling me what to do?"

  "You did promise me," he reminds me.

  And I remember I did.

  Fuck.

  "And it's not entirely for me, you know. It's also for you. Maybe you're still too young to be thinking about this, but trust me, there will come a time when you'll be glad to have someone to leave the company to. And if you find the right woman, it will be nice to have someone by your side when the world seems against you. As it often will."

  I know. That's how I felt when I found out Odermatt's files had been stolen. And who was by my side?

  Stella.

  Dad pokes me in the ribs. "Besides, if you had a woman, she'd be the one welcoming you home. Not me."

  I have to admit that sounds better. Better yet if it's Stella waiting for me at the top of the stairs in a dress, her hair down and a smile on her lips.

  I pause. Whoa. Where did that image come from?

  I wouldn't mind having Stella as my partner, but I can't. She's my assistant. If I'm with her, she'll have to stop being my assistant, and even after she does, the world will never forget that she was. Every chance they get, they'll ridicule her for it, call her names. Also, I'll barely get to see her. She'll be stuck at home with a baby and I'll be stuck in the office.

  I'll only end up hurting her, and she'll only end up being unhappy.

  I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to ruin her life. Which means I'll have to find someone else to make miserable, which I don't have time for right now.

  "I'm not going to have a kid anytime soon, Dad," I tell my father. "Not yet."

  He sighs. "Fine."

  "I have to go to work."

  I continue up the stairs before he can say more. He doesn't, but the voice inside my head won't keep quiet. It keeps whispering Stella's name, reminding me of her, of how it felt good to be with her, of what I'll never have again.

  I zip it as I walk to my home office.

  Stella and I are done. There's no use dwelling on it. We're back in Chicago now, which means we're back to being boss and assistant, maybe friends who chat once in a while.

  It will be just like old times.

  ~

  Or so I thought. But I was wrong.

  I can pretend that I never had sex with Stella, but I can't forget about it. It's been a week since we got back from Switzerland, and yet each time she walks into my office, all I can think of is how amazing she looked in bed. Or on the couch. Or in the shower.

  Like right now.

  Fuck.

  Why did I agree never to have sex with her again? I can't remember.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave, sir?" she asks.

  Sir. She's been calling me that since we came back, even more than before we left for Switzerland. Why? To remind me about our agreement? Of the fact that I can't have her?

  If only I could.

  "Let me check," I say as I go through the papers on my desk.

  In truth, I'm just stalling because I don't want her to leave.

  Anything else she can do for me? She can climb onto my lap and let me kiss her. Or kneel beneath my desk and suck me off. Or let me lift that burgundy dress of hers and fuck her on top of my desk.

  Damn it, Ethan. Are you a sex-crazed maniac now?

  "No." I put the papers back in a pile. "Everything's fine."

  "Okay."

  She turns on her heel and walks towards the door. Her ponytail sways behind her shoulders.

  That's another thing that has changed. Before, she only wore her hair in a bun. Yesterday, she had half of it down like she did that time we did it on the couch back in Switzerland. Now, it's in a ponytail.

  Is it because she knows I like her hair loose? I guess I should be glad she didn't decide to cut it.

  "Stella." Her name leaves my lips when she's almost at the door.

  She turns around. "Yes?"

  I don't know why I called her. I just did. Maybe because I wanted to look at her a little longer? I can't just stare, though. I have to say something.

  "How are you? Has the jet lag worn off?"

  The moment I finish speaking, I want to hit my head on my desk. What kind of a question is that? Lame. That's what.

  "I'm fine," Stella answers confidently.

  Of course she is. It's been a week.

  "What about you?" she asks softly. "Have you been sleeping well?"

  My eyebrows almost arch. She's concerned about me? That's the first time this week I've seen any evidence of it.

  "Fairly," I answer.

  I'd sleep better if she were by my side.

  "Have you given your friends their chocolates?"

  "Yes."

  "They liked them?"

  "Very much."

  "And your chocolates?" I ask. "Did you finish them already?"

  "No." She looks at me like I'm crazy, then glances at her stomach. "I think I gained enough weight from all the food we ate in Switzerland."

  "You still look good, though."

  The words leave my mouth before I can think. Stella's eyes grow wide. Her cheeks turn red.

  Great. Now I've made her uncomfortable.

  She runs her fingers behind her ear. "I'll be going. Good night... sir."

  That again.

  "Good night."

  Stella leaves my office. As soon as she's gone, I lean back in my chair and let out a sigh.

  This is going to be harder than I thought.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Stella

  I can't do this.

  I pull my ponytail off as I sit on my bed. My chest feels tight as tears threaten to well up. I draw a deep breath to try to keep them at bay.

  Why does it still hurt so much?

  When I cried my heart out that night after I left Ethan's hotel room, I thought that would be the last time I would cry over him. The day after, during our flight back to Chicago, I felt fine. But maybe that was because Asher was on the plane with us.

  Whenever I'm alone with Ethan, my mind gets transported back to Switzerland - to the puddled cobblestone streets of Zurich, to that cafe with that amazing strudel, to the top of Uetliberg, to the sea of roses in Bern. And yes, my heart skips a beat at first, but then I remember that those memories are all I'll ever have of Ethan and my heart just shatters all over again.

  I clutch my chest as my tears escape. The first one trickles down my cheek and lands on my lap.

  It's no use. No matter what I do, I can't forget about Ethan or keep myself from wanting him.

  I thought I'd be okay not having Ethan love me back. I thought I'd be happy just being by his side like before. I thought I was strong enough to just be friends with the man I love.

  I was wrong.

  I want Ethan. I want him not just as my boss or my lover but as my boyfriend, my husband. I want to be by his side not just at work. I want to fall asleep on his shoulder after a long conversation every night and wake up next to him every morning.

  I want him in my life.

  That's why I couldn't help but ask if he was fine. I couldn't stop myself from talking to him even though I said I wasn't ready for the chats we used to have. And when he gave me that unexpected compliment, when he looked at me like he wanted to fuck me, I nearly threw myself at him.

  I slap my forehead as I lie down on my bed.

  "Oh, Stella, what are you going to do?"

  Seriously, I don't know. I don't know what I can do. But I know this: I can't keep crying every night.

  I sit up and pull out a few sheets of tissue from the box on the nightstand. As I blow my nose, my gaze falls on the box of chocolates from that shop in Zurich.

  I wasn't lying when I said I haven't eaten all of them. In fact, I've only been eating one piece every night. And not because I don't want to gain weight, though I really feel like I have.

  At first, I thought it was just because I wanted to relish the chocolates that Ethan chose and bought for me. I wanted them to last because I'll likely never have them again, just like I'll never have Ethan again. But then after the third day, a part of me started thinking of each piece as a symbol of hope. Every night, when I popped a piece into my mouth, I'd hope and pray for Ethan to come to his senses and love me. I started believing that until I finished all the chocolates, there was a chance that could happen.

  Stupid.

  I grab the box and open it on my lap. I'm thinking I'll gobble up all the chocolates right now and do away with my hope and my stupidity. To hell with getting fat.

  I grab two pieces and stuff them both inside my mouth. Like before, I close my eyes to savor the texture, the taste...

  I cover my mouth as I gag. What the hell?

  I run to the bathroom to throw up. Afterwards, I wash my mouth.

  What was that horrid taste? That wasn't there before. Did the chocolates go bad?

  When I go back to the room, I check them. They all look exactly the same and they all seem fine. I consider trying one more, but just remembering that awful taste is enough to make me shake my head.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  I put the box back on the nightstand. My journal falls to the floor.

  As I pick it up, I remember the night I accidentally brought it to the office. That was a Friday night, too.

  It's strange how so much has happened since then.

  I read my latest entry, the one where I wrote down everything that happened in Switzerland. Well, everything but the sex. That's firmly embedded in my memory.

  Should I write a new one tonight?

  I'm still thinking about it when my phone rings. I wonder who's calling as I take it out of my purse. My eyes grow wide when I see Jess's name on the screen.

  Right. She asked for my number after I gave her the chocolates.

  I answer the call. "Hello."

  "Stella. Hey, are you busy?"

  "No," I tell her.

  "Then would you like to come over? I'm at a bar my friend owns. It turns out he met this Swiss girl online and he's obsessed with her so he's trying to learn all about Switzerland. When I said you'd just been there, he told me to invite you over. He even said he'd give you free drinks. What do you say?"

  I take a moment to think. I've never really been to a bar. Then again, there's a first time for everything and I can't think of any reason why tonight can't be that first time. I don't have anything better to do.

  Besides, going out might help me forget about Ethan, even for just a little while.

  I grab my pen.

  "What's the name of the bar?"

  ~

  So this is what a bar looks like, I think as I step inside The Red Barrel.

  I see the bar alright, the counter gleaming and about half the leather stools lined up beside it occupied. I see wine barrels painted red and converted into tables. Dim lights hang from the ceilings. Red vinyl records encased in huge bottle caps hang from the wall. There's a dartboard in one corner and a billiards table in another. Piano music streams softly from the speakers.

  Weird. I thought a bar would be noisier.

  Just then, I hear shouts from upstairs. I guess that's where the party's happening. I wonder if Jess is up there.

  I'm about to walk towards the spiral staircase when I hear my name.

  "Stella!"

  I turn and see Jess, who runs over to me and gives me a hug.

  "I'm glad you could make it."

  "Me too," I tell her. "I've never been to a bar before."

  Her eyes grow wide. "No kidding?"

  "Nope." I glance around. "Is Randy here?"

  "No. He has his own thing Friday nights."

  I'm curious about what it is, but I don't ask.

  Jess grabs my hand. "Come on. I'll introduce you to my friend, Pete. I think you'll like him."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ethan

  I can't believe Stella has moved on to another guy.

  I gulp down my Scotch, hoping it will burn the image of Stella flirting with a guy in a bar out of my head. Or at least blur it. It doesn't. I set my empty glass down with a thud, my temper still fuming.

  Fuck.

  I dropped by her apartment because I was worried about her. I was afraid she'd be feeling lonely again, crying while scribbling in her journal or staring at the picture of her dead parents. I was just going to check on her but then I saw her coming out of the building. She looked like she was in a hurry.

  She hailed a cab around the corner. I had my driver follow it. Five minutes later, she got off in front of a bar. I got even more curious.

  I thought Stella didn't go to bars.

  I follow her inside, half expecting to see her sitting alone at the bar. To my surprise, she's at a table with four other people - two women and two men. I'm only interested in the man she's talking to. Tall, with dark hair just like me but with a thin beard. And scrawnier. I don't know what they're talking about, but they seem to be having their own conversation apart from the group. They look absorbed in it, too, and Stella seems to be having fun. Her face is lit up. When the man beside her laughs, she does, too.

  After I see her whispering something in the man's ear that makes him laugh, I can't watch any longer. Unfortunately, the image is still stuck in my head.

  Fuck.

  I thought Stella would at least feel a little miserable now that she doesn't get to have sex with me. But it seems it's just me.

  I'm the only one who's miserable.

  I signal the bartender to refill my glass. As he does, I feel a pat on my back.

  "What did I miss?" Asher asks as he slides on top of the stool next to me.

  "My first two glasses," I answer.