The robe was the resort's fault.

Every guest at Hollow Pines got the same one. Charcoal silk, a sash at the waist, cut close enough that it hugged everything I usually hid under blazers.

I stepped out of the changing room, and the lounge went quiet.

"Wow," someone from Accounting said. "Maren?"

"Don't," I said. "It's a bathrobe."

"That is not a bathrobe," Priya from Legal whispered, handing me a cup of cucumber water. "That's a statement."

Across the lounge, Nolan stood by the fireplace. Sienna was tucked under his arm, her robe loose at the collar. When he caught me looking, he bent and kissed her neck. Slowly. Right there, in front of half the company.

Sienna giggled and waved at me with two fingers.

I turned my back on them.

"Hey. Maren, right?" Theo Pruitt from Finance came over, smiling, a little shy. "I'm grabbing a seat for the cedar pool. Want to join?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Great. I'll save you a spot by the—"

"She's busy."

Nolan was suddenly beside us. Sienna was gone. His jaw was locked tight.

Theo blinked. "Sorry, man, I didn't know you two were still—"

"We're not," I said.

"Give us a minute," Nolan told him.

Theo looked at me. I gave him a small nod. He backed away, and I regretted it the second he was gone.

◇

Nolan didn't wait for privacy. He walked me backward into the corridor toward the hot springs, where the steam fogged the windows and the lights were low.

"Cute trick," he said.

"What trick?"

"The robe. The Finance guy. The ring on the table." He laughed through his nose. "You want me to propose. That's what this is."

I stared at him. "You had your hand up Sienna's skirt."

"And you walked out instead of fighting for it. Because you knew I'd come after you." He grabbed my wrist. Hard. "Five years, Maren. You paid my rent. You wrote my proposals. You don't walk away from that kind of investment."

"Let go of my arm."

"You're not leaving me." His thumb pressed into the soft inside of my wrist. "You'd be nothing. You know that, right? You'd go home to that sad little apartment and—"

"Nolan. Let her go."

The voice came from behind him. Calm. Very cold.

Callum stood at the end of the corridor in a resort robe, a towel over one shoulder. He didn't move closer. He didn't need to.

Nolan's grip loosened, but he didn't drop my hand. "Mr. Ardmore. This is personal. Just a disagreement between me and my girlfriend."

"Ex," I said.

"I heard her ask you to let go," Callum said. "Twice."

Nolan finally released me. My skin throbbed where his fingers had been.

"With respect," Nolan said, "this isn't company business."

"Anything that happens to my employees on a company trip is company business." Callum's eyes didn't leave him. "So let me be clear. Anyone who harasses a female employee will face the consequences. Anyone. Including managers."

Nolan's face went red, then white.

"Understood," he muttered, and walked off.

I rubbed my wrist. Then, for no reason at all, I started to laugh.

Callum frowned. "That's funny?"

"No. It's just—he thinks I want him to propose."

"Do you?"

"God, no."

Something in his shoulders relaxed. "Good," he said. Then, after a beat, "Your wrist. Let me see."

"It's fine."

"Maren."

I held it out. He turned it toward the light, gently, and studied the red marks. His jaw flexed once.

"Ice," he said. "Tonight. That's an order."

◇

The cedar pool was steaming when I slid in. Theo had wisely chosen a different pool.

Then Callum came out of the changing area and dropped his robe on a bench.

I had seen him in suits for three years. I had never seen this.

His shoulders were broad and heavy with muscle. His back tapered down into a narrow waist. When he stepped into the water, it rose over his stomach, his chest, and a few drops slid down the center of him, slow, catching the light.

I jerked my eyes to the trees so fast my neck hurt.

"Water too hot?" he asked, settling across from me.

"Nope. Perfect. Very… wet."

He raised one eyebrow.

I sank until the water reached my chin.

◇

That night I lay in bed and could not stop seeing it.

The water on his chest. His thumb on my wrist. His voice saying Maren like it was the only word that mattered.

I told myself to sleep. My hand slid under the waistband of my shorts anyway.

I was already wet. Embarrassingly wet. I found my clit and rubbed it in small, tight circles, and I pictured him across that pool, pulling me onto his lap.

Fuck. I pressed harder.

In my head, he said, "Look at me, Maren." In my head, his fingers were the ones between my legs, thick and sure, pushing into me while his mouth was on my neck.

"Callum," I whispered to the empty room. "Fuck, Callum, please—"

I pinched my clit and my hips lifted off the mattress. The sheets under me were soaked through. I was so close, my thighs shaking, my heels digging into the bed—

My phone rang.

I nearly fell off the mattress.

The screen read Callum Ardmore.

I stared at it for two full rings before I answered. "H-hello?"

"Sorry to call late." His voice was low, rough with tiredness. "The Ingram numbers need sign-off before the board call at eight. Can you bring the file to my suite?"

"Now?"

"If you're awake. Are you awake?"

My hand was still wet.

"Very," I said. "Give me five minutes."

◇

I washed my hands twice, pulled on jeans, and twisted my hair into a knot. It didn't help. My face in the elevator mirror was pink from my hairline to my collar.

He opened the door in a T-shirt and sweatpants. His gaze stopped on my face.

"You're flushed," he said. "Are you sick?"

"No."

"You sure? You're really red."

"Hot springs," I said. "Delayed reaction."

"That's not a thing."

"It's a thing now."

He let me in. I sat on the edge of his sofa and opened the file, and he leaned over my shoulder to point at a column. He smelled like cedar and soap.

"Q3 projection," he said.

"Four-point-two million."

"It's two-point-four."

"Right. Sorry. Two-point-four." I cleared my throat. "And the margin is eighteen percent."

"Eighty-one."

I shut my eyes. "Eighty-one."

He was quiet for a moment. "Maren. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm great. I'm amazing. I'm leaving." I signed, stood, and practically ran to the door. "Goodnight, Mr. Ardmore."

"Goodnight," he said, and I swear I heard him smile.

◇

I made it all the way to my door before I reached into my pocket.

No key card.

I pictured it clearly: slipping out of my jeans when I sat down, lying on his gray sofa cushion.

"No," I told the hallway. "No, no, no."

I walked back. I knocked. Nothing. I knocked again.

The lock clicked.

The door swung open, and steam rolled out around him.

Callum stood there with water still running down his chest, his hair dripping, and nothing on but a white towel slung low on his hips.

His eyes moved over my burning face.

"Forget something?" he asked.

I grabbed the key card off his sofa without looking below his chin. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

The next night, I did something stupid on purpose.

I sprayed perfume on my wrists and behind my ears, the expensive bottle I'd been saving for an anniversary that never came. I put on the black dress I'd packed and never planned to wear. It was short, with thin straps, and the back dipped low.

Then I picked up a folder I didn't need to deliver and knocked on Callum's door.

He opened it in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes went to the folder, then the dress, and stayed there.

"The revised Ingram summary," I said.

"I didn't ask for a revised summary."

"I revised it anyway."

He stepped aside. I walked past him close enough that my shoulder brushed his chest.

He shut the door. "That's not what you wore to dinner."

"You noticed what I wore to dinner?"

"I notice a lot of things." He took the folder and set it on the desk without opening it. "Like how there's nothing in here I haven't already signed."

My pulse jumped. I sat on the arm of his sofa and crossed my legs slowly.

"Last night," I said, "when you opened the door in that towel. Did you want me to come in?"

He didn't answer. He leaned against the desk and folded his arms.

"Because I think you did," I went on. "I think you've been thinking about it all day."

"Maren."

"What?"

"You're testing me."

My cheeks went hot. "Maybe."

"Then stop circling." He pushed off the desk and sat down on the sofa beside me. His voice dropped. "If you want to know something, ask me."

I swallowed. "Do you want me?"

He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap.

I landed straddling him, my dress riding up my thighs. His slacks were thin. My panties were thinner. When I settled against him, I felt exactly how much he wanted me, hard and thick under my weight.

We both went still.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn't gentle like his thumb on my cheek had been. He kissed me like he'd been holding it back for three years. His hand spread across the small of my back, then climbed my spine, over the bare skin where the dress dipped low. His fingers found the edge of the zipper and paused there.

I rocked my hips without meaning to. He groaned into my mouth and gripped the back of my neck.

He kissed along my jaw, then lower, his teeth grazing my throat. I tipped my head back and felt like the room was spinning.

He wanted me. He actually wanted me.

So I did what I'd always seen other women do. I played hard to get.

"Wait," I breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. I put a little smile in it. "We shouldn't."

His hands were gone instantly.

Off my back. Off my neck. He held them up and away, like I'd burned him.

"Okay," he said.

I blinked. "Okay?"

He lifted me by the waist and set me on my feet. Then he stood, stepped back, and put the coffee table between us.

"Go back to your room, Maren."

I stood there with my dress twisted and my lipstick smeared across my chin. My whole body was humming. And he was straightening his collar like he'd just finished a meeting.

The silence stretched until I wanted to scream.

"Are you serious?"

"You said wait."

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then you shouldn't have said it." His jaw was tight. "I don't guess with that word."

The heat in my face turned into something sharper. I yanked my strap back onto my shoulder.

"Don't act like you're above this. You wanted me. I felt how much you wanted me."

"I did." He met my eyes. "I still do."

"Then what—"

"Two days ago, you walked in on Nolan with another woman." His voice stayed level, but his hands had curled into fists at his sides. "Tonight you show up in a dress you've never worn to work, smelling like that, asking me questions you already know the answers to."

"So?"

"So who's it for?"

"You."

"Is it?" He tilted his head. "Or is it for the guy who'll hear about it tomorrow?"

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"I'm not going to be your revenge," he said quietly. "Not while you're still bleeding from him. When you come to me, I want it to be because you want me. Not because you want him to hurt."

My eyes stung. I hated that. I hated that he could see it.

"You don't know anything about what I want."

"Then prove me wrong. Some other night. Not this one."

I grabbed my shoes off the floor. I didn't bother putting them on. I walked out barefoot and let the door swing shut behind me, and I didn't cry until the elevator closed.

◇

The next morning, the office was too quiet when I walked in.

Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Two women from Accounting bent their heads together as I passed. Theo Pruitt glanced up from his desk, then quickly dropped his eyes to his screen.

My phone buzzed. Priya.

Have you seen the group chat?? Call me.

I opened it.

A photo filled the screen. Me, in the black dress, standing at Callum's door at eleven at night. My hand raised to knock. My bare back turned to the camera.

Underneath it, Nolan had written: Some of us knew what she was doing the whole time.

Forty-two replies. I didn't read them.

"Maren!" Sienna's voice rang across the floor, bright and sweet. She was perched on the edge of a desk near the copy machine, a little crowd around her. "Love the new look. Very executive."

A few people laughed.

"Is that how you get the good desk?" she asked. "I've been doing it all wrong. I've been using a résumé."

More laughter. Louder now.

Nolan stood at the coffee station with his mug. He didn't look at me. He talked to the guy beside him like I wasn't there.

"Honestly? I knew for a while," he said. "Late nights. Calls on weekends. She'd come home and say she was working." He shook his head sadly. "I wanted to believe her. Five years, you know?"

"Man, that's rough," the guy said.

"It's fine. I'm over it." Nolan sipped his coffee. "I just feel bad for whoever's up for promotion next. Hard to compete with that kind of dedication."

My hands were shaking. I set my bag down on my desk very carefully so no one would hear it.

"That's a lie," I said.

The floor went silent.

Nolan finally turned. He looked almost pleased.

"Which part?" he asked. "You weren't in his room last night?"

I couldn't answer that. And everyone saw that I couldn't.

Sienna slid off the desk and strolled over. She leaned close, her perfume cloying and sweet, and dropped her voice so only I could hear.

"Don't worry, sweetie. That was just the first picture."

She held up her phone, screen turned toward her chest.

Then she smiled.