The professional pictures from the wedding started to come out the next weekend. First it was the reel from the rehearsal dinner where every guest, man, woman or child, was dressed in impeccable white. Meanwhile the bride and groom dressed in vibrant turquoise.

I found a snap of a girl dancing alone with abandon by the shore. The sand she kicked up glinted against the sunset, its glare obscuring her face from the shot. But upon closer inspection I noted that her hair was a soft pink, and after doing a double take I realized it was me. That was the best picture of me anyone had ever taken, so I saved it to my files and kept browsing.

There weren't many pictures of the actual ceremony yet, but I did find one of Page in her dressing room after she'd put on the wedding dress I made for her. Estelle kneeled behind her on the floor, fixing up the train, and although Page's profile was the most outstanding focus of the shot, I could be seen half obscured by her as I made sure the details of the gown were as they should be.

I downloaded that one too, and with the ladies' permission uploaded it to my personal website. I'd made a full blog entry of the preparations leading to Page's wedding, and taken quite a few artistic pictures of the finished dress with Poonam's help. It wasn't necessarily that I wanted my specialty to be wedding gowns, but I did want it to be an important revenue stream of my own future brand.

I'd been trying to come up with a good name for it for weeks. I kinda liked Berry Happy, but that was probably a good name for a kids' line. All I could think of was using my name, Adele Holt, but I kept wondering if one day someone would make the connection between me and my multimillionaire conglomerate owner father. I didn't want anyone to ever think I owed my success to him, whatever that may shape up to be.

Meanwhile I spent the week working hard on the business case for Miguel. I already had quite a lot of research on the topic of apps done, let alone on consumer behavior patterns and fashion and retail data. It was more of a matter of consolidating everything while making sure of emphasizing the gains for Tropicana, rather than the expenses we would have to incur.

I felt a lot of nostalgia while I worked on this, thinking back to the time in college where he and I worked on a similar project together. How would I have imagined back then that one day it'd be Miguel whom I'd have to impress, and not some random, faceless investor? Who would have known that we would go down our different paths and find each other this way?

Well, technically we'd found each other naked first. Small details.

The following Friday caught me on my work bench, typing away on my laptop at six in the morning. This was a good two hours or more before my usual arrival to the office, but I hadn't been able to sleep well the previous night. Despite the fact that with the design review being after lunch, I would have all morning to work on the last touches of the business case, I just didn't want to leave anything to chance. Who knew, I might take a bathroom break in the middle of work and return to find my laptop mysteriously under a tractor with Mr. Diapers whistling innocently in a corner.

"Good morning."

I swiveled on my stool and found Miguel behind me, walking into the office with his fancy suitcase and a travel mug. Today he was in a classic grey suit and white shirt.

Out of the many obvious things I could have pointed out, one of them being what he was doing here so early for example, the one I brought up was, "Huh, I like that your shoes are the perfect shade of your suit."

Props to a guy who'd found perfect grey loafers.

Miguel smiled so wide that it transported me back to college.

"If I'm going to work in a fashion design company I have to look the part, right?"

Then he took one turn for me, allowing me to inspect his full outfit. I startled him a little when, upon returning to face me, he found me right in front of him. He looked good enough to eat, but there was one simple way his look would be even more devastating. I popped open one more button in his shirt, not enough to make him look sleazy or anything, but enough that he looked relaxed. Less corporate.

"There. Perfect," I said, taking a step back.

Miguel took a deep breath, so deep that he appeared to deflate entirely when he released it.

"Addy, don't do this to me."

"What?" my eyes widened. I looked down at the button, trying to understand what he was saying.

Miguel closed his eyes and said, "I'll be in my office, okay? It's early, but someone might come in and see me struggling to not push you against the nearest desk to have my way with you."

My jaw dropped.

His smile was tight. At a glance, he looked like someone who struggled under the strain of heavy weights. Without further ado he went into his office and closed the glass door.

For all intents and purposes, the floor had become water under me. I waded back to my stool and had to hold myself upright by grabbing onto the furniture. A glance at him and he was shrugging out of his jacket as though the office weren't freaking cold with nobody else around. As though he were as hot and bothered as he'd left me.

Oh Lord. I was in danger.

"Work, bitch," I told myself, paraphrasing Britney Spears. I took an Ayrton sized gulp of coffee and got back to it.

The relief I felt when the first of my coworkers started arriving an hour later couldn't be expressed. All that time I'd been fearing what could happen if either of us moved from our spots and met somewhere in the middle, but now that I wasn't alone I dared to go to the common area again and get more coffee.

"Ready for the big presentation?" Marisol asked me for a greeting as soon as she joined me in our area.

"Just putting the finishing touches, but otherwise yes."

She grinned. "I'm so looking forward to seeing what Mr. Diapers' face will be when you wipe the floor with him."

I shushed her and looked around. "Geez, say it louder, will you?"

"Who cares?" She shrugged. "The asswipe is finally on his way out and he knows it."

We would see about that. I didn't think that would be the case, even if both Miguel and Angela approved of this idea. Somehow he would find a way to grab it and do with it what he wanted, as though he'd been the originator. That was his modus operandi. I couldn't begin to count how many of my designs he'd passed for his own since he came on board three years ago.

The good thing was that with the way things had developed it was clearer than ever that this hadn't come from him and that thought alone gave me renewed energy.

By the time the afternoon meeting time rolled in, I was so ready to crush this. My laptop had gone with me everywhere I went, which was totally the right move considering the way Jean Paul glared at me as I took my seat at the table for the design review. When it was my turn, I walked in front of the room in the fabulous cream power suit I'd made, with delicate copper pinstripes that emphasized my curves the right way. The silky blouse matched the hue of the stripes and showed just enough skin to be interesting but never vulgar.

I looked good and I knew it, which was a major boost in a room like this, especially as I delivered the key aspects of my business case on how to help people take ownership of the design pieces that were meant to make them feel like a million bucks on the daily.

There was applause after I was done, and I took a bow that made Jean Paul's color rise.

After the ruckus died down Miguel said, "I'm intrigued, but I'm not saying yes quite yet. Once the meeting is done I'd like you to come into my office and tell me more details."

"Certainly," I said, clearing my throat.

It was at that moment that my heart started hammering in my chest.

The presentation had been nothing. I'd been in more nerve wracking situations in front of clients with impossible requirements and all the money on their side. Walking into Miguel's office with only clear glass panes to separate us from the rest of Tropicana, though, was terrifying. For ten work days I avoided being in closed quarters with him for a goddamn reason. That being that I was sure the hunger I felt for him could be seen in my stupid face.

He motioned me in as I approached, and I closed the door because at least that way no one would be able to hear what we spoke about.

"Should we take a seat on the couch?" he asked, glancing at the cozy nook in his office with a rich navy couch, a coffee table and reading lamp.

"No. Too comfortable," I said as I plopped on the guest chair by his desk. "This is better."

I didn't like the smirk on his face.

"Are you afraid of me?"

I shrugged, understanding that it wasn't like he was the one with all the attraction power. He hadn't fucked me three times and given me more than as many orgasms for no reason. Besides, this morning had been the first time his perfectly professional business persona had cracked since he joined the company. All because I'd unbuttoned one button.

"Not anymore than you are of me," I said.

He laughed. "Touché."

I cleared my throat and pulled open my laptop. We went over the details of the business case like no interlude had happened at all and by the way his eye shone, I could tell that he was biting.

"This is really good, Addy." He sat back, shaking his head. "Why wasn't this approved before?"

I pursed my lips and looked back. To my relief, no one was paying us one iota of attention, and with my back to the general room no one would be able to read my lips. So I faced him again and simply said, "I'm going to speak to you as a friend, not as an underling, okay?"

"Go for it," he said.

"Jean Paul is full of shit and pretty much the reason why Tropicana is in the financial trouble it's in."

I probably should've measured my words better, but I was past the point of caring and this was Miguel. The fact that he was the main investor in the company I was an employee of didn't erase the fact that I trusted him like a friend.

"Why the hell is he the lead designer then?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "Why not you? You have the ideas, the drive and clearly the support of the rest of the people."

"I—well." The praise made me squirm, but I squared myself. It wasn't just praise, it was a fact. "It's probably because Jean Paul and Angela go back. I don't know how, but the reason he's here is because they're friends."

He snorted. "Friendship and business acumen don't go hand in hand."

My eyebrows went up and I motioned between us, pointing out the irony in his words.

Miguel gifted me with a dazzling smile. "See, but the difference between us is that we're friends with... business acumen."

I had to purse my lips not to laugh.

"I really appreciate the efforts you're making to keep this professional," I said, although my entire face was trembling with the effort.

Miguel rested his elbows on his desk, typing something on his computer with the obvious intent of looking busy. I thought that'd be that for that train of conversation but instead he said, "Go out with me on a date."

"What?"

He also was finding it hard not to laugh as he said, "Well, we haven't exactly followed the standard pattern. Normally it's from friends to dating, to having sex, right?"

"Oh my God," I whispered, looking all around us. People were still focused on their work though. "What if someone hears? This is isn't what we agreed-"

"So I was thinking," he continued saying. "Since we're back to being friends with business acumen who definitely don't get benefits from each other in the office, maybe we can give a bit of casual dating a try. See where it goes."

Casual dating.

What did that even mean?

My mouth flopped open and closed. The cocktail of emotions dancing in my belly had me almost nauseous. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say no. Just friends was okay. But being able to hold hands might be better. Kissing might make me explode into a supernova of happiness, so that would definitely be the best. Then there was the problem that despite the fact that Miami had something like six million people, someone we knew might be able to see us if we went out on a date. And then there was the fact that if we were alone, I might say something that I wouldn't be able to take back. Something along the lines of no one else had the power to make me feel the way he made me feel.

"Hey," Miguel called softly, and I focused back on him. The amusement had disappeared from his face. He was almost sad. "I'm not trying to pressure you. If you really want to be just friends I—I'll be fine with it."

But would I? Could I stand by and watch as another woman like Becca showed up, recognized him for the gem he was and did her darn best to keep him for herself?

The painful twist in my heart gave me the answer I needed.

I took a deep breath, then another one. And I did the scariest thing I'd done that day, or maybe that year. Pitching an app, facing my boss from hell or even jumping into bed with Miguel hadn't scared me as much as that moment had.

I fixed the lapels of my power suit and drew strength from it to say, "Okay, I think I'd like to go on a casual date after all."