I’ll give her a month. But that’s all she’s getting. I’m not taking no for an answer. This is my girl—all that’s required is for the stubborn, irresistible little Miss Roth to see it.

Livvy

I’ve heard it too many times. Be careful what you wish for. But still millions of people are out there wishing. I got my wish. I got a kick-ass internship, a kick-ass recommendation from Callan Carmichael, CEO of Carma Inc., and Daniel Radisson scooped me up like a football for the touchdown.

It should feel absolutely great—I’m climbing the ladder of success, step by step.

I could think Callan’s recommendation might have been influenced by my bed skills, but I know that man too well: he wouldn’t endorse anything or put his signature on any paper that he didn’t fully believe in.

And he fully believed in me, right from the start—he gave me a shot. Taught me the ropes. He even let me go so I could chase this dream.

The satisfaction I should feel isn’t there, though, because somewhere along the way I started thinking of other possibilities for my life. I should be proud I stuck with the plan. Instead I feel like there’s this giant vacuum in my life and nothing can fill it.

Radisson Investments in Austin wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be. Even with me living with Mom and Dad only an hour away and Nana’s grave so close, I’m not as motivated. Daniel leaves me alone and just says, “Good job.” Always “Good job.” I wonder if he’d say that even if I were putting in only a halfhearted effort. I almost am.

I crave Callan’s voice telling me, “You can do better.”

I’m thinking of veering off on my own a little earlier than expected, but I know I’ve yet to sharpen up my investing skills a little more.

Daniel isn’t a corporate raider. He couldn’t pull it off if he tried. After working at the massive Carma headquarters in Chicago, I feel like the smaller offices of Radisson—no uniform, casual, easygoing surroundings—really don’t inspire me to step up my game and get sharp.

It doesn’t help that I heard about the Alcore deal. Callan once again surprised me—he holds majority now but allowed the previous stockholders to retain their seats on the board and a larger percentage of stock, and he’s injecting capital for an expansion that will take Alcore to the next level—one where millions of sales will become billions. The debt will grow, temporarily, but only until the huge new deals with high-tech companies start bearing fruit.

I applied for a real job, at Carma. I don’t feel at home here anymore, even though my parents are amazing and I love seeing my friends. What I got in Chicago may not have been what I wanted for myself. I realize now that life gave me better, so much more than I imagined. I fell in love in a way I never thought I could. I never thought I could have both a career and him. I want nothing less.

Fuck the plan, it’s not what I want anymore.

I want Chicago and I want for the hottest man in Chicago to be as crazy about me as I am about him.

My new plan is: Do anything for career except give up the man you love.

I keep refreshing my email all day. It’s been a week since I submitted my application, but I’ve received nothing yet. I’m even considering calling Tahoe but maybe Callan doesn’t want me there anymore. I’m home after a full day of work and refresh my calendar to verify it’s a month mark. I want a cigarette. I really do.

Me: Month mark tomorrow. Did you make it? I almost didn’t. YOU?! Did you stay away?

Him: Hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m ready to cave in.

Me: Me too. I’d have one if I had any. I’m too lazy to get some.

Him: I got you.

Me: Haha. Please do. I’m waiting. Make it fast.

Him: Fast enough for you?

I don’t understand the message until I see movement on the front porch as I walk up to the house. Standing before me is a vision—a complete hallucination—of Callan in jeans and a black crewneck T-shirt that clings to his muscles and has him looking his hottest.

He’s only a few feet away—instead of a whole bunch of states away. And he’s hot, amazing, right fucking here—his jaw a little shadowed by stubble, his hair rumpled by the wind—and he’s never looked as real.

As adorable.

As bad-boy sexy and as fucking good.

I swallow the lump that seems to immediately well up in my throat.

I want to sprint to him, climb him like my tree house, and move into him as my permanent home.

I want to crawl on him and touch him all over, kiss him all over. My fingers itch at my sides and my mouth dries up. I feel the attraction crackling between us. The air around him is testosterone-laden and my whole body feels it, senses it. I see it in his eyes as he looks at me the way he used to—with a touch of amusement, and a whole lot of interest, and just a gleam of admiration too.

“Callan,” I gulp.

“Olivia.”

His voice, oh god.

Oh god oh god.

It sparks up a sea of tiny goose bumps across my arms and I laugh at my own reaction, marveling at his effect on me—always his effect on me—and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear with a shaking hand.

I’m shaking all over as I walk up to my front porch, catching my breath when the air I breathe begins to smell of his cologne.

I take a seat, and he sits beside me.

“Thanks to your recommendation, I got the job at Raddison.”

He shifts to his elbows, looking at me intensely, his lips hiking up at the corners. “That’s a pity.”

I’m surprised by his comment. “Huh? Why?” I scowl at him.