Chapter 2

First, the situation.

Rhys Calder and I were both heirs. Both families wanted a merger that looked like a love story. They had been pushing us at each other for years.

We took one look and started swinging. Twenty years. Same fight.

Then we hit the age where people start talking rings, and both sets of parents got tired of waiting. They put us in a house for a year.

Like what you see: the marriage happens.

Don't: walk away.

How we swapped —

Day three hundred and fifty-nine. We were fighting again. Things got thrown. The glass lamp that was supposed to be a Calder heirloom hit the floor, and something hit both of us at the same time. Lights out.

We woke up like this.

Seven days left on the year.

I was going to throw the last match on this marriage and watch it burn.

· · ·

Calder Group HQ. Nine in the morning.

I walked in heavy. Top two buttons of the suit undone, collarbone out, mouth tipped like I was looking for trouble.

The whole executive floor froze.

Everyday Rhys Calder: buttoned to the throat. Ice. Do not approach.

Today's "Mr. Calder": a different man.

In the elevator I held the door for the intern from admin.

When we passed, I tipped my head and let that low, expensive bass do the work.

"You did good."

The girl went red to the roots.

I made a note.

Rhys. That frozen face of yours. Do you have any idea how much face you've been wasting.

· · ·

Noon. The cafeteria.

I stood in the middle of the room and clapped until it went quiet.

"Today is March eighth. Women's Day."

His bass. Unhurried.

"Calder Group rule. Women's Day, every woman on staff gets a half day."

A beat of blank. Then the room blew.

I lifted a hand. Wait. The crooked smile stayed.

"Before you go — as CEO, I have decided. I dance for the women in this room first."

Dead.

People looked at each other like they had misheard.

I turned and tipped my chin at a few of the old men from Finance and Legal.

They looked at each other. Then they stood up like they were walking to a firing squad.

I nodded at the DJ.

Cheesy jazz hit on time.

I yanked the tie. Lost the jacket.

The shirt went tight. You could see the abs he actually bothered to train.

The whole room sucked in air. We took the marble.

One hand in a pocket. Step. Sweep.

Six-two of leg, going with the drums like the drums had a grudge.

Absurd.

The body was too good. It came out looking like art with too much hormone in it.

"Mr. Calder! One more! Those legs!"

The women on staff forgot their trays. They were swallowing.

The screaming went for the ceiling.

I was laughing in my head. Rhys. Watch. Tomorrow this video is the whole city. Call it off.