I miss walking with you .
Clair Daniels wondered if someone would ever write her something so romantic. Then she thought of the emotional ups and downs Abby had suffered for months because of what was called "love." Being independent was safer and less painful, she reminded herself. She'd already been through enough in the last two weeks due to the loss of a man who had been nothing but her friend and counselor.
Despite everything, he hid his envy and returned the note to Abby, smiling as he said,
–How lovely. The wedding is this weekend, right?
Abby, the company's receptionist, nodded as she placed the card back into the extravagant bouquet of flowers Clair had admired.
"I was just telling everyone that..." Abby indicated the women who were having their morning coffee. "I texted you that starting Saturday, we'll be able to wake up together for the rest of our lives..."
Abby broke off when she realized who she was talking to.
The other women looked down.
Clair cleared her throat. She'd never slept with anyone, but she couldn't reveal that. The confidentiality clause with Victor van Eych prevented her from making such a confession.
However, she knew that everyone believed that her relationship with her boss had gone beyond the professional relationship between secretary and boss. She had been deeply bothered by the gossip, but she had allowed it out of respect for a man whose age had diminished his self-confidence. Victor had been very good to her and had

encouraged to create the foundation he'd dreamed of all his life. It seemed harmless to allow people to misinterpret their relationship.
But as a result, Victor's family had denied her entry to their mansion. They hadn't even allowed her to offer condolences. They had ostracized her as if she were a plague victim.
Clair didn't find it easy to open up to people; and now, the only person she'd ever begun to trust had died. Luckily, she had a place to retreat to for a week to cope with the loss she felt. It was ironic that this place was the orphanage where she'd grown up, which made her think about how important it was to have a home, not just for herself, but for all creatures as lonely as her.
At that moment, under the scrutiny of her coworkers, she felt that loneliness more than ever and tried hard not to reveal the weight in her chest and the lump that had formed in her throat. And it wasn't just Victor's unexpected death, but also a kind of despair that overwhelmed her. Was she destined to always live feeling alone?
In that suffocating moment, the elevator doors opened. Clair turned her head in an attempt to vent her anguish, and what she saw made her gasp.
The only way she could think of to describe the tribe of grim-faced men was an executive hunting party. The last one out of the elevator, the tallest, was undoubtedly the leader: a dark-skinned warrior with the expression of a soldier wounded on the battlefield. The first thing she noticed was the scar that ran from his hairline, crossed his left eyebrow, crossed his cheekbone, and then ran down to his mouth, disappearing into his jaw.
The man seemed indifferent to his scar, his energy focused on the new territory he was about to conquer, his impeccably cut gray suit covering his imposing figure like armor. He only needed to sweep his amber eyes around the room for the women to murmur their goodbyes and leave instantly.
Clair couldn't move; she seemed glued to the ground. She lifted her chin, refusing to let him notice how much he intimidated her.