Chapter 9

Claire's POV I'd gone home, packed a small bag, and prepared to essentially live at the company for the next six days. This project, recalculating the entire financial plan, would demand my complete, undivided focus if I wanted any chance of hitting that impossible deadline. Two days later, at noon, a call from Hank broke my intense concentration. "Hank, I'm genuinely swamped right now. I don't really have time to chat," I said, a little agitated, pushing away a stack of complicated charts. The calculations were far more intricate than I had initially imagined. "I know you're busy, which is why I wouldn't dare disturb you," Hank's voice was warm, almost soothing, through the phone. "But you have to eat, Claire. I've prepared your favorite seafood fried rice for you. Come down and grab it." During our dinner last time, we'd exchanged social media accounts and discovered a surprisingly easy rapport. We'd been messaging back and forth since then, a comfortable, platonic connection. Hearin