My entire car ride to work that morning was consumed without thoughts of how weirded out and worried Rosalie had been the night before because of Ian's impromptu proclamation of love for her.

She had paced up and down in her living room the night before, relating everything that had happened to me.

I listened.

I wasn't entirely sure what to do or how to tell her that I would make everything better in a way that Rosalie would believe me, but I had managed to calm her down enough for her to be able to eat three servings of the spaghetti that I had made.

That made me smile.

The passion and vigour with which Rosalie ate the food she liked; it was almost the same passion and vigour with which she planned her weddings.

I had an inkling of a feeling that I knew what had made Ian suddenly remember Rosalie, but I didn't want to worry her with it.

Instead, I had woken up a little earlier and made waffles for her, for a change and watched her eat it like she hadn't seen food for days.

That had ensured that Rosalie went to work happy, while I had the opportunity to get to the bottom of the goings on of the night before.

Right before I got off the car, I sent a quick text to her:

Waffles for breakfast and pancakes for dinner might be a bit overkill. I'll bring some sushi home for dinner. I hope you have a day as wonderful as you are.

Hoping that would make her smile, I went up to the thirty-sixth floor, where investment bankers and employees from Arthur's company were milling around with the employees of mine, going through document after document, penning in alterations and cuts while they drank copious amounts of coffee.

I watched them, standing outside the conference room. Hardly any of them even raised their head, making me wonder whether they would even know if a war were waging outside.

"Enjoying the view, Aiden?" Arthur's voice touched my ears.

I turned to see Arthur nodding to the world outside the windows as he approached me. "I went over to Woods Towers recently. That Hardwood boy has a spectacular view, too."

I nodded, knowingly. "No, Arthur, I'm watching our employees."

"Do they seem to be working hard enough?" he asked, jovially.

I laughed with him. "I sometimes wonder whether they work too hard. Do you think they would know if the building was on fire?"

"Are you kidding me? Those investment bankers would be the first ones out of here and the first whiff of smoke," he said to me. People had a strange thing against investment bankers, I had come to realize. "The others, however, I don't really know."

I saw Arthur look up at me from the corner of my eyes. He cleared his throat. "I, uh, heard about the split, Aiden."

A slow smile spread across my face. "Oh."

"Yeah, I'm, uh, sorry about that," he said, like he had no idea what to say or do.

"All for the best, Arthur," I told him.

He turned to me. "You're not upset, huh?"

I shook my head lightly. "Not in the least."

He huffed, but it was a laugh. "That's what Isabella told me," he said, referring to his daughter, whom I had known since we were children, "When she heard the announcement, she scoffed at me and told me that she would bet all my money that 'the Aiden Carlisle she knew wouldn't marry Caroline Baxter even if she were the last person on the planet'."

I had to laugh. Isa always managed to say exactly the right thing.

"Did she?" I asked, as I laughed.

"When the split was in the papers, she waltzed into the dining room that morning and slapped it down right in front of my coffee and said 'Hah!' and claimed that I owed her something for the correct prediction. I don't understand that girl and her brain sometimes."

I laughed again. "Tell Isa that I'll buy her that huge dollhouse she wanted as a kid. Remember, Mrs. Hammond refused to keep something so big in the house? That was before you moved to your current house."

Arthur's eyebrows raised and he nodded. "Musn't remind Isa of such things. She might actually want one now."

"That sounds like the Isa I know. Tell her I gave her my regards," I clapped Arthur on the shoulder, "Will you be coming in?"

He shook his head. "I have a meeting with that bastard, Burke. I'll be back after that."

He walked away and I headed into my office.

I reached into my suit pocket to pull my phone out and felt a piece of paper inside. I pulled it out. Rosalie's dainty handwriting sat on a folded piece of paper.

Pancake-Man, it called me.

I smiled and flipped it open.

You know, if you think about it, waffles are just pancakes with abs.

Pancakes are waffles without abs.

In this equation, you are waffles and I am pancakes.

So, I guess I should call you Waffle-Man.

I'm 28. I shouldn't be writing ridiculous notes to my 30-year-old boyfriend.

Have a good day, Waffle-Man.

If anyone looked into my office, they probably would have been seen my idiotic grin. Even when Rosalie wasn't there, she was making me smile.

I pulled out my phone and texted her again:

Waffle-Man appreciates the notes and would like more in future.

After I folded the note gently, I put it into my wallet, where I was sure it would remain for a very long time.

I had wanted to leave this matter for later, but sitting there, the words from Rosalie's note running through my mind, I knew I couldn't wait. I pressed the button on my intercom for my secretary.

"There's an investment banker in the conference room named Ian Jeffries," I told Molly, my assistant, "Can you ask him to come in, please?"

"Right away, Mr. Carlisle."

The light on the intercom disappeared and I waited, watching the door to my office, my hands steepled.

Ian's face appeared on the other side of my door soon enough.

He opened the door and stepped in. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Carlisle?" he asked.

His tone wasn't shaky, but his eyes defied him; there was a flash of apprehension, of fear. I nodded.

"Come in, Ian."

Ian closed the door and stepped further into my office. He stood on the other side of my desk.

"Tell me, Ian. How are the agreements going?"

He glanced at me and slowly, looked visibly relieved. He even let out a nervous chuckle before he answered me.

"Oh," he said, scratching the back of his neck, "It's going fine. We're looking through the fourth set of documents at this point and we'll be ready to present them any time soon."

"Beneficial to both companies, I imagine?"

He nodded, vigorously. "Oh, yes. Definitely, Mr. Carlisle. You and Mr. Hammond don't have to worry about a thing. These agreements will definitely benefit you both."

"Hmm."

He looked at me, like he didn't know what else to say.

"Then tell me, Ian. The agreement that you have with Caroline Baxter, does that benefit both parties as well?" I asked.

It seemed as if Ian stopped breathing.

There was pin-drop silence in the room.

"What?" he asked, dismissively.

I leaned back in my chair. "You have an agreement with my ex-fiancée, Caroline Baxter. I want to know whether it benefits you as well as her."

Ian shook his head so fast. "What do you mean? There's no agreement."

"Am I to believe that you suddenly showed up on Rosalie's doorstep on your own volition?" I asked.

He looked as if he didn't expect me to know that. "I, uh, I still l- I still love Rosalie."

I raised an eyebrow. "You really think you made a convincing statement there, Ian?"

He said nothing.

"Now, Ian. I'll ask you this very plainly, and you will give me a straight answer, do you understand?" I asked, "You are inside my office, doing the work that I am paying you to do, so the least you could do is be honest with me. Do you think you can manage that?"

Ian watched me for a while and then nodded very slowly, almost like he didn't want to nod.

"What did Caroline tell you that she will give you if you manage to get Rosalie back?" I asked.

He hesitated.

He was blowing out breaths like he was dying to tell me, but he was also reluctant to.

"Did she promise you money?" I asked.

Ian shook his head, and then realized his mistake in confirming my suspicion.

Caroline Baxter had stooped to finding Rosalie's ex-boyfriend to try and get back at her.

"What was her plan exactly?" I asked, "What could she possibly gain from Rosalie getting back together with you?"

"I don't know, Mr. Carlisle," Ian said, in a rush of words, "She didn't explain everything to me. She found me at a bar. I don't know why I agreed to it even. She told me that if I got Rosalie back, she would use her influence and make sure that I make partner in my firm. She said that if Rosalie wasn't with you, you'd break."

I nodded.

"You went along with it so that you could get a promotion?" I asked.

Ian looked shame-faced. "She found this agreement in which I had made a mistake way back when I was a trainee at my company and she threatened to expose that. It would have ruined my career. She said if I did this, she'd make sure that that mistake never saw the light of day and that I would get promoted."

I stood.

"Ian, I want you to listen to me very carefully when I tell you this: you stay away from Rosalie. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"If I ever hear that you've so much as breathed the same air as her, I will make sure that you never work in this town again. I think you know that I have way more power than Caroline does."

He nodded again.

"In return, I will make sure that Caroline poses no threat to you or me."

He nodded, slower this time.

"Now, get out of my sight."