Chapter 122

DIANA

I have no one to blame but myself.

This is what happens when you overestimate people. Emilia really is as pitiful as I remembered—not even interesting enough to provoke. Just exhausting.

I’m already heading for the elevator when I text Amanda.

You have three minutes to get a car and prep the jet. Miss that window, and start rewriting your CV.

I don’t care how impossible it is—that’s what she gets for spying on me and not having the brains to do it right. No job that involves me is easy.

As I near the elevator, the doors slide open and someone steps out—tall, broad, hoodie up, arms full. A bouquet of slightly wilted flowers in one hand, greasy paper bag in the other. It smells like overpriced pasta.

I pause, tilt my head.

So this is the idiot who’s been pacing outside like a lost mutt.

I should ignore him. I almost do. But then I feel it—that tight coil behind my ribs. Not curiosity. Not interest. Just pure, sharp irritation