“Good name. The other was ironic.”

She’d never had a proper conversation with Royce before. Clearly she hadn’t missed anything. He certainly didn’t pull his punches. “I’m glad you approve.”

“So that’s it, then.” He studied her so intently her skin prickled. “You and Sam. It’s over.”

“I guess so.” She looked around. “He said I left some papers behind.”

“In the boardroom.” He jerked his thumb in that direction. “It’s a tragedy.”

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t get justice or the girl . . . I’m sure you’ve seen a Shakespearean play or two.”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

“My favorite.” He followed her to the boardroom. “Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy regains girl. Boy dies for girl. Girl dies for boy. Audience is spared a saccharine happy ending.”

Layla turned and frowned. “Are we talking about the same boy? I just saw Sam at St. Vincent’s. With his girlfriend.”

“What girlfriend?”

“Karen.”

“The HR chick?” Royce chuckled. “Sam and I had lunch with her the other day. Those two together would be a tragedy.”

“But . . . they looked . . . friendly. They were going out after work . . .”

“With me.” He perched on the edge of the table. “I’m thinking of hiring her to take Sam’s place when he moves to New York.”

Layla’s heart squeezed in her chest. “He said he’s trying to get into a local program.”

Royce shrugged. “There’s nothing to keep him here. He reconciled with his parents, and his sister hooked up with John ‘I’m so nice it’s a character flaw’ Lee, who convinced her to live her dream of becoming a lawyer because we need more lawyers in the world.” He shuddered and loosened his tie. “That’s my idea of a nightmare. Rooms of books filled with laws and rules, being lectured by people who couldn’t make it in the business world . . . I can barely breathe thinking about it.”

Can we talk?

No.

Oh God. Had she just made the biggest mistake of her life?

“Where are the papers?” She clenched her fist around the strap of her handbag. “I need to go. Fast.”

Royce pointed to the box. “There wasn’t much. You should just go through them here and we can shred what you don’t need.”

Layla sifted through the documents—mostly old logo designs and lists of companies she had cold-called when she didn’t even have a name. “Sam said he thought the documents were important, but there’s nothing here.”

Royce gave an exasperated huff. “Keep looking.”

She checked every document in the box until, finally, at the very bottom, she found a copy of the lease agreement between her father and Bentley Mehta World Corporation.

“This isn’t mine.” She offered it to Royce, who raised a dismissive hand.

“You might find the legal opinion stapled to the back interesting, so I’m waiving my attorney-client privilege.”

Layla skimmed the legal opinion. The one-page document stated in no uncertain terms that Sam had the full legal right of occupancy to the office and that her claims had no merit. John had signed and dated it at the bottom. Instantly, she understood why Royce had let her read it.

“This is dated the day after Sam and I met.”

“Fancy that.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “He always knew I had no right to be here. He could have kicked me out at any time.”

“If it had been me, you and your purple couch would have been out on the street on day one, but then I’m coldhearted that way.”

Layla sat heavily on the nearest chair. “Then why did he play the game?”

Royce shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t want you to marry a douche.”

“Or someone like Ranjeet,” she said, considering. “He was trying to protect me. But if I didn’t find someone, would he have honored the rules and walked away?”

“He does have that character flaw.” Royce leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “That’s why we made a good team. I have no scruples and he has too many.”

“Would you give him a message from me?” An idea started to form in her mind. “I deleted his contact details from my phone.”

“Do I look like a receptionist?”

“You look like a guy who pretends not to care, but whose colorful clothes hide a warm heart.”

His lips curved. “What does that make me in this tragedy? The comic relief?”

“It’s not a tragedy.” Layla wrote a quick note on the back of the legal opinion. “It’s a romance. Except in this version, Buttercup saves herself.”

• 28 •

THE game is over. You win. Enjoy your prize.

Sam stared at the words on the document Royce had given him. “What does it mean?”

“How should I know?” Royce put his feet on his desk as he nibbled his brioche. “I have no magical insight into the inner workings of the female mind.”

“It sounds like she’s getting married.” Sam slammed the note on Royce’s desk. “Did she read the legal opinion? You were supposed to make sure she read it.”

“Jesus Christ.” Royce dropped his head back. “I’m a businessman, not a matchmaker. Yes, she read it. I sat in the boardroom and made sure she got to the bottom of the box. She noticed the date right away.”

“And then what?” This wasn’t how the scenario was supposed to play out. After getting the message that the game had really been all about her, she was supposed to connect with him, and then they would apologize to each other and he would pull every string to secure a residency in San Francisco, and she would move back into the office to run her business, and they would live happily ever after.

“Then she wrote the note, told me this was a romance, and walked out the door.”

“A romance? Fuck.” He slammed his fist into the wall. “A romance means marriage. She’s marrying one of the dudes on her father’s list. It’s probably the yoga guy. You know how flexible they are.”

“Wasn’t that what she wanted?”

Sam paced the room. “She was supposed to want me. I waited too damn long. I wanted to fix everything first. I wanted to show her I was worthy.”