She did not want to walk into his glass tower in Manhattan and sit across from the man who had called the most beautiful night of her life a mistake.
Another text arrived.
My office. One hour. Come or don’t. Your choice. I have solutions.
Maya laughed once, without humor.
Still arrogant.
Still impossible.
Still the only person she knew with enough power to move mountains in forty-eight hours.
One hour later, she entered Adrian Cole’s office wearing her best black suit and a face that revealed nothing.
His assistant, Dominique, waved her through as if she had been expected.
Adrian stood at the windows overlooking Central Park, hands clasped behind his back.
He looked thinner.
Tired.
Less polished around the edges.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
“I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“I know.”
She set her purse on the chair. “Talk.”
“The Meridian Gallery is available Saturday night.”
Maya stared at him. “No, it isn’t.”
“It will be.”
“It’s booked for Yamamoto Corporation’s product launch.”
“They owe me favors.”
“That launch is worth millions.”
“So is your future.”
The words hit her before she could defend herself.
Adrian turned fully then.
His dark eyes were not cold today.
They were exhausted and painfully clear.
“I can get Delaqua Catering,” he continued. “Their head chef is in Paris, but he’ll fly in. Vivian Flores can handle flowers. She’s Isabelle’s cousin, which will help calm the family. I’ve already spoken to the Meridian’s director. They’ll hold the space for two hours while you decide.”
Maya’s mind raced.
“That’s impossible.”
“You specialize in impossible.”
“How do you know about Vivian Flores?”
“I’ve spent three weeks learning your business.”
She went still.
“What?”
His jaw tightened. “Your clients. Your competitors. Your contracts. The people who dismissed you. The people who underestimated you.”
“Why?”
“Because I missed you,” he said simply. “And because I was too much of a coward to say that, so I tried to help from a distance.”
Maya looked away.
“You don’t get to fix this with favors.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to throw money at what happened between us.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why am I here?”
Adrian stepped closer, then stopped, careful not to crowd her.
“Because I love you.”
The office went silent.
Maya’s pulse thundered in her ears.
Adrian’s voice was rough when he continued.
“I loved you before the storm. I loved you during it. I loved you the morning I ruined everything because I was terrified. And I have loved you every day since, badly, selfishly, from behind walls I should have torn down myself.”
Maya swallowed hard.
“Adrian…”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me because I can make phone calls. I’m not asking you to trust me because I can fix a wedding. I’m asking for the chance to show up when things are hard and not run.”
Her eyes burned.
“I can’t survive you breaking my heart twice.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” Her voice cracked. “You were not the one standing in that room, listening to someone turn love into a business mistake.”
He closed his eyes as if the words physically hurt.
“When I said that, I was trying to make the night smaller because it terrified me. But it wasn’t small. It was the most real thing that had happened to me in fifteen years.”
Maya looked at him then.
Really looked.
The great Adrian Cole was standing in front of her without armor. No command. No arrogance. No escape route.
Just a man with everything to lose.
“I need to save this wedding,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“And after that, we talk. Really talk. Boundaries. Work. Power. Everything.”
“Yes.”
“If you panic and run again, I’m gone.”
Adrian nodded. “Then I won’t run.”
Maya held his gaze for a long moment.
Then she opened her tablet.
“Fine,” she said. “Call the Meridian. I want floor plans, load-in access, kitchen capacity, and insurance documentation in the next ten minutes.”
For the first time in three weeks, Adrian smiled.
“Yes, Ms. Thompson.”
She pointed at him. “Don’t make that sound romantic. I’m still mad at you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m leading this.”
“Obviously.”
“And if you try to take over, I will personally throw you into the Hudson.”
His smile widened.
“There she is.”
Maya hated how much she wanted to smile back.
Part 3
Forty-seven hours before the Thornfield wedding, Maya’s apartment became a war room.
Blueprints covered the kitchen table. Vendor lists were taped to cabinets. Three phones buzzed constantly. Maya’s laptop had nineteen tabs open, and Adrian Cole sat in the middle of it all with his sleeves rolled up, his tie abandoned on the back of a chair, and a paper cup of terrible bodega coffee in his hand.
He looked wildly out of place in her small Brooklyn kitchen.
He also looked determined.
“Delaqua confirmed,” he said, ending a call. “Full menu, cocktail hour through dessert. They’re flying in their head chef.”
Maya looked up from her spreadsheet. “Their waitlist is two years long.”
“I may have implied that assisting you would improve their reputation among people who matter.”
“So you threatened them politely.”
“I inspired them strategically.”
Despite herself, Maya laughed.
Adrian froze for half a second, as if the sound mattered more than any deal he had ever closed.
Then her phone rang.
“Vivian Flores,” Maya said, answering quickly.
“Ms. Thompson,” came a crisp voice. “I reviewed your emergency brief. Challenging, but not impossible. White peonies, jasmine, gold accents, modern romantic, not funeral garden. Correct?”
Maya almost cried from relief. “Exactly.”
“I can do it. Full payment by noon.”
Maya’s relief collapsed.
Her original vendor payments were tied up in legal claims and bankrupt invoices. Full payment would gut her business account and most of her personal savings.
“Of course,” she said. “You’ll have it within the hour.”
She hung up and stared at her banking app.
Adrian watched her face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Budget adjustment.”
He reached for his phone.
Maya narrowed her eyes. “Do not.”
He dialed anyway.
“Vivian, Adrian Cole. Send the invoice to my office. Full amount.”
“Adrian!”
He ended the call.