When she’d got home last night, she had immediately called to terminate her pleasure weekend membership, tearing up the tickets she kept locked in her safe at home. But questions, anxieties rioted around her brain, scaring her. What if this weekend had just been a fling? A one-time only affair? Could she bear to go through it all again, through the pain, the heartache if it turned out to be a one-time only deal? She couldn’t think like that. She was Anya King. Anya King didn’t feel those emotions. She knew better. Her bravado lasted several seconds, until the ping of the lift alerted her to the fact she was finally at her floor. Head held high, she smiled at everyone, greeting the people who acknowledged her but heading straight for her desk. Calm, think calm. Nothing seemed out of place and, with the shaking at a minimum, she started up her computer to check through her emails. Nathan could see her through the glass, her glorious red hair tied back in that horrid bun. His heart raced—he felt like a kid in a sweet shop when she’d walked into the office.
