Brett's POV

She was driving me fucking insane.

Three days since the storm. Three days of watching Riley move through my penthouse like she belonged there. Three days of remembering how she'd felt in my arms, how she'd looked at me like I was worth saving.

Three days of pure hell.

"The Morrison contracts need your signature," Marcus said, setting the papers on my desk.

I didn't look up from my computer. If I looked up, I'd see Riley curled in the chair by the window, reading to her daughter over ...