Rebound (Boomerang #2)(13)

Philippe runs a hand through his blond-tipped auburn curls and sighs. “It was a party.”

“But it wasn’t supposed to be a party for me. It was my job. I went to meet the staff and get a feel for Adam Blackwood.”

Philippe chuckles and shoots me a look. “Well, you did get that feel. And you, um, met his staff.”

I put my face in my hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“Stop that. You’ll smudge.” He pulls my hands away from my face and captures them in his own. “So, you got a little tipsy and had an adventure. Big deal.”

The word “adventure” makes me picture Adam, sitting in the gazebo. Something in the way he held himself and in the sound of his voice—hesitant, relieved—when he told me his one true thing. I felt the weight of every word, and I wanted to pull more from him, let him know that I would be careful with what he gave me.

But this is business. I have to redeem myself with my parents, prove I can be trusted again. Especially with alcohol and boys. Right now, I’m down on both counts.

“I just . . . I didn’t want to screw up again,” I tell him. “My dad’s trusting me with something huge. And I haven’t given him many reasons to trust me lately.”

“That’s not true. You’re brilliant, Ali. And hard working.”

“And I almost flunked out of college. In my senior year. Who does that?”

Only Philippe knew that I’d failed a whole semester’s worth of classes, burned friendships, and made such a colossal mess of things that it had taken a sizable endowment to the college to allow me to walk at graduation and make up the classes during the summer. Instead of backpacking around Europe, I got to plod through online courses. I’m still waiting for my real diploma in the mail.

I look down at my hands. Already, my French manicure is chipped, just a fraction, at the edges. I wanted everything to be perfect today, and nothing is.

“You’re so hard on yourself.”

“Apparently not hard enough.”

Glancing over at the bank of elevators, I catch sight of a familiar figure and realize it’s Mia, rushing across the marble floor to catch the elevator doors before they sweep shut.

Oh, God. Does she know about this? Adam promised he’d keep it to himself and said he trusted his employee—that terrifying woman, Cookie—to do the same. But how do I know they’re not having a huge laugh over it right now?

No. I won’t have that. I’m tired of having my bad choices define me. Worse, derail me. There’s no reason I can’t get in there and take charge of the situation. After all, I’m the one whose father has twenty million dollars to invest. Adam Blackwood needs me more than I need him. I just have to get in there and prove that. Not let the situation rattle me.

I take a deep breath and smooth my hair back from my brow, tidying the few escaped wisps back into my chignon.

“Flawless,” says Philippe.

Far from it, but I just tell him I’m glad he’s with me. Nancy and Simon, the accountant and lawyer on my team, have worked for my dad for years and still treat me like the little girl who used to do horseback riding tricks for them at my father’s parties. It’s nice to have a real ally.

“I’m sure Graham would have preferred to hire a nice intern for you. One who knows the first thing about business.”

We get up from the table and head to the elevator. Inside, I give his waist a quick squeeze. “You know more than you think.”

“Ditto.”

I nod. Now, I just have to own it.

Inside the bright modern offices of Boomerang, Philippe asks where we can find Adam.

Just his name makes anxiety spark inside my chest. But I don’t let it show. It will be fine, I tell myself. We agreed it was just a one-time thing, a mistake. We’ll move on from here.

An impeccably dressed guy rises from his desk and introduces himself as Paolo. He’s Philippe’s height, with bronze skin, gorgeous warm brown eyes, and a pocket square in tan and blue stripes that matches his shirt and no doubt wins him extra points with my best friend.

“I’m Alison,” I say and extend a hand.

“Ah, the big kahuna. Welcome.” He shakes my hand and then Philippe’s. “Let me take you to our fearless leader.”

We follow him, and he introduces us to a few other employees—Pippa and Sadie, who I recognize as the pajama-clad girls from the party. Then a few others who barely glance up from their work to acknowledge us. They’re not rude, just intent on their work, which I take as a good sign.

I turn from a quick handshake with one of the coding team, and find myself face-to-face with Adam.

Only he’s not Adam from the party. He’s professional Adam, in a tailored dove-gray suit that looks sewn onto his body, the way my costume was sewn onto mine. Though it should be impossible, his clothes make him look even more impressive—and sexier—than when he dressed as Zorro.

My face warms at the sight of him, and my body responds on its own, drawing me right back into that car. I see the tattoo of falling birds winding along his muscled arm, hear the sound of his laughter, and feel, once again, the urgency of his lips on mine. That’s the Adam I wanted to find here, I realize. Even though I know we can’t have that again.

“Welcome to Boomerang,” he says, and his smile is all white teeth. Easy charm. “It’s good to . . .” He settles on “see you,” since he can’t pretend we’re meeting for the first time. But he doesn’t add, “Again.”