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Chapter One
James
Sometimes, I have nightmares about my parents’ death. It doesn’t make sense, not really. I wasn’t on the plane, and I didn’t hear any details until two weeks later when pieces of the wreckage were found floating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Still, I wake up sweating, my eyes burning with exhaustion.
I wasn’t able to sleep last night, which is why I’m in my office at seven in the morning. I stare at the pages in front of me, trying to discern any meaning. I was raised to do this job, and I have a business degree from Wharton. I shouldn’t have any trouble, except I’ve gotten a combined ten hours of sleep in the past three days, and I don’t know how much longer I can stare at charts and numbers without going completely off the wall.
“Mr. Preston,” my assistant says, and I look up to see her standing in the doorway. Her hair is a mess, she’s breathing heavily, and she’s holding a paper coffee cup from the local place I like a block away.
“Camilla,” I say, using my most formal voice. I may be confused and terrified, but I’ll never go so far as to show it. She knows me as well as anyone, but I’m not willing to show her just how stressed I am.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, rushing over to my desk and setting the coffee down carefully. “I had no idea you were coming in early or I would have—“
I hold a hand up. “No need to apologize. I didn’t need anything. Thank you for the coffee.”
She takes a step back and nods, straightening her blazer. She’s been my assistant since last year, and she’s been nothing but great at her job. I’ve tried to convince her to take time off, but the idea of it seems to make her even more anxious than she already is. Ever since the accident, she’s been shaky and nervous, always insisting on doing everything perfectly. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Preston?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m just going over the numbers from last quarter.”
She gives a single nod and spins on her heel, exiting the room swiftly and closing the door.
I set down my files and turn, looking out at the ocean sparkling in the morning sun. I’ve always loved the view of Miami, and being back after years away at college would be amazing if not for the situation at hand. It was on their way to Dubai from my graduation that my parents’ jet went down, and the guilt has not left me for a moment since. Maybe if I’d done more, they wouldn’t have gone. Maybe someone would have caught the plane’s defect on time.
I stand and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my executive office, sighing as I roll my shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension.
It didn't help, but it was worth a shot. My eyes trace over the water, a sailing club the first sign of life on the water this morning. I wish I could be out there with them on my own vessel, but I haven’t had a moment to myself since being shoved into a position I’m not ready to have.
I pull out my phone, swiping past the image of my sailing catamaran to unlock it and call my best—and only—friend.
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