You look like an angel

Five years have passed since the last time Ayden Emory saw Arya Harley. He knew she was studying abroad, but never where. She had made a separate agreement to never disclose her location to the millionaire. Checking social media was useless, she wasn't on it. Searching for her was futile, as if she had vanished like foam in the sea.

"Miss Edwards, you have a phone call," his assistant announces at the door. "It's from Mark Emory."

"Please put him through. Close the door, Dalila, please," she kindly requests.

"Hey Annie!" Mark greets her when she answers.

"Hey, Mark, how's everything going?" she inquires while pretending to brush imaginary lint off her tight skirt under her doctor's coat.

Mark didn't usually often call, but when he did, she usually answered.

"Here, waiting for you to tell me when you'll be in New York," he comments, hoping she'll say the same day.

Annie Edwards laughs shamelessly.

"Nice joke," she says. "You should come here for a couple of days instead. I'm free next