By the time I returned from the board meeting, Isabella was gone.

The office felt emptier without her—chair pushed in neatly, laptop closed, no trace of the faint vanilla scent that clung to her skin. I hadn’t asked her to stay. Hadn’t told her to wait. But part of me expected her to read the unspoken command anyway. She didn’t.

I grabbed the flash drive I’d left on the desk, locked up, and headed home.

The shower hit first thing—hot water pounding my shoulders, steam filling the glass enclosure. My mind went straight to her. Isabella in the rain, dress clinging, hair plastered to her neck, lips parted as I...