Trapped . . .

She’d go to New York and have his baby, and he’d be miserable. Or he’d decide to stay to be a father and be miserable. She’d be a mistake, along with his child. Could she live with that? She’d been one of those kids, with her junkie mother and a father who took off, leaving her in the care of her grandparents. Always feeling unwanted. Was this what she dreamed for her future?

Coldness lodged in her gut. No. She couldn’t do that to any of them. Even if she had to lose the man she loved in the process.

“I don’t want to go to New York, Tristan. This is my home. I like my job at Pierce Brothers, and I can’t leave my grandmother. She took care of me my whole life, and I owe her. I want to enroll in business school and get my degree. I can’t start all over in the city.”

“Of course, you can! Don’t you want more for yourself, Syd? More from your life?” Frustration clung to his aura. He clenched his fists and faced her down. “Is this it for you? Working for my father and settling in the same town you were born in? You can be anything in New York. I thought you weren’t going to be that scared little girl anymore. Just take the chance, and let’s do this. Let’s leave together.”

If he’d told her he loved her, she’d probably fly off the bed and follow him to Siberia. If he’d given her any indication emotion ruled his speech, she’d tell him about the baby and take a leap of faith.

Instead, she looked deep into those gorgeous amber eyes and saw . . .

Nothing.

The numbness took over. She knew the pain would come much later. Right now, she needed to do this and set him free. He didn’t love her the way she did him. There was something bigger out there for him. His dreams weren’t about her. And damned if she’d spend the rest of her life trying to be someone who always doubted she was enough. Someone who trapped him into a life of what-ifs and regret.

“I can’t leave, Tristan. I’m sorry. This is my home. I need to stay. And to be honest, I don’t think you really want me to go.”

He spun away from her. Anger beat from him in waves she could almost touch. “Are you kidding me? I ask you to go away with me, and you say you don’t believe me? Are we playing these ridiculous games again, Sydney? ’Cause I’m tired. You can do anything you want, and nothing is keeping you here except yourself. But I’m not about to beg.”

He grabbed his shirt, quickly dressed, and walked to the door. “Just remember you made your choice. I tried. I’m leaving on Friday, and I’m not looking back.”

The door shut behind him.

She wrapped the sheets tight around her and bowed her head. Body shaking, she let the surge of pain and fear wash over her and wondered if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.

chapter one

Sydney Greene-Seymour rushed into the office of Pierce Brothers Construction, frantically calculating how she’d make up the twenty minutes she’d lost in morning madness. Her daughter, Becca, had insisted on wearing her hair in a French braid, then raced back to her closet to change twice before school. If she acted like this at six years old, what would happen when she reached high school?

Sydney shuddered at the thought. Juggling her purse, laptop, and briefcase, she dug for the key. She was a bit of a control freak when it came to running the office where she’d worked since she was sixteen years old, and she liked to arrive before everyone else started. Order was the key to dealing with chaos. Her life had been such a series of sharp turns and fear-inducing hills, her soul was soothed in the one place she could not only control but thrive in.

Her job.

And finally, she was ready to take it to the next level.

The office was quiet, immediately calming her. She dropped her stuff on her desk, then headed to the kitchen in a hunt for sanity.

Or, at least, some clarity.

The kitchen was high-tech, from the stainless steel refrigerator to the cappuccino maker, soda machine, and various vending machines. With skilled motions, she quickly brewed the coffee, then grabbed her fave Muppets mug and filled it to the brim.

Trying not to gulp the wicked-hot liquid, she sipped and breathed, bringing her focus to the upcoming presentation. After years of running Pierce Brothers as executive assistant and general office guru, she was about to make the pitch of a lifetime. It was time to take the next step and prove her worth.

It was time to be promoted to CFO.

And they had no idea it was coming.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she ignored them. She walked back into her office with her coffee, her Jimmy Choo high heels sinking into the plush carpet. She’d dressed to impress in her designer Donna Karan apple-green suit and even managed to pin up her crazed curls in a semblance of professionalism. Her black-framed glasses added a flair of style and seriousness. After grabbing her flash drive with her PowerPoint presentation loaded, she quickly set up the conference room with her handouts and laptop, then brought in a tray of pastries from Andrea’s Bakery with a pitcher of water. Nothing wrong with a little bribing, especially when it involved sweets. She double-checked the room.

Perfect. She was ready. She picked up her mug for another sip. She’d calculated this quarter’s profits and could clearly show the margin of growth once she brought in this new—

“Morning.”

She jerked at the deep, cultured voice breaking into her thoughts. Coffee splashed over the edge of her mug onto her jacket. Cursing, she swiveled her head, her gaze crashing into whiskey-colored eyes that were as familiar as her own beating heart. Familiar yet deadly, to both her past and her present. Why did he have to be the one who was here first? The man possessed an inner alarm clock that detested lateness.

She still hated the little leap of her heart when she was in his company, but it’d just become part of her routine. Kind of like eating and breathing.

Anyone else would’ve brought a smile and a bit of chatter. But Tristan Pierce didn’t talk to her. Not really. Oh, he lectured and demanded and judged, but he refused to actually have a conversation with her. Not that she cared. It was better for both of them to keep their distance.

“You scared me,” she accused. “Why don’t you ever make any noise when you walk into a room?”

Those carved lips twitched with the need to smile. Unfortunately, her presence rarely allowed the man to connect with any of his softer emotions, so he kept his expression grim. They’d been dancing around each other for two years now, and still struggled with discomfort in each other’s presence. Well, he experienced discomfort in the form of awkwardness.