"Three weeks out, minimum," the receptionist said after checking her screen.

Lila's heart dropped. That might as well be three years.

The elevator dinged, and her breath caught.

Because there was Ethan, looking like he'd stepped straight off a GQ cover in a suit that screamed old money.

Next to him stood a knockout redhead pushing forty, but fighting it with expensive taste and even more expensive procedures.

Ethan's eyes flickered to Lila for a microsecond before sliding right past her, cool as ice, as he walked his client to the door.

"Mr. Caldwell," the redhead purred, "I never would've gotten a dime out of that cheapskate ex if it weren't for you. The way he turned into Mr. Generous with his little sugar baby..."

His smile was perfectly professional.

"Just doing my job."

She gave him a once-over that could've melted steel.

"How about we celebrate over drinks tonight?"

Lila watched, wondering if any man alive could resist an invitation that obvious from a woman that gorgeous.

But Ethan just checked his Rolex. "Unfortunately, I have prior commitments."

The woman was smart enough to read between those polite lines.

She knew a brush-off when she heard one, even a million-dollar one.

After she clicked away in her Louboutins, Ethan turned to Lila.

"Changed your mind about last night?"

Lila felt her cheeks burn.

"I... I brought your coat back."

She thrust the shopping bag at him like it was on fire.

"Thanks." He took it and headed for the elevator without another word.

"Mr. Caldwell, wait!" Lila darted after him into the elevator. "I need to—"

"Save it," he cut her off, straightening his tie.

"I'm not taking your case."