Aaron couldn't accurately gauge his date's progress; Keeley was sending mixed signals. She wasn't openly hostile, as before, but she made no effort to maintain the conversation—she answered direct questions and that was it.

At least she seemed to enjoy the food. It had been a good choice; he recalled her mentioning bringing her father there, so he knew she liked the restaurant.

He suppressed his frustration at her lack of detail. He needed her to mention her cat to enact his plan. This was Aiden's second piece of advice, given before Aaron left his office: asking Keeley for help getting a cat himself would show his softer side and increase his time with her.

He felt a pang of regret. Keeley had inquired about pets during their marriage, but he'd refused due to their numerous antique wedding gifts. That wasn't a problem now; his penthouse furnishings were nice, but not priceless.

Her haircut and the fact that she owned a pet clearly indicated she was enjoying her life without him, doing as she pleased.

This time, he wouldn't stand in her way; only her opinion mattered. She could do anything, and he would support her. He just wanted her back.

He'd spent too much of his previous life worrying about others' opinions, how his social circle would treat her, and her potential danger if he cared too much. No more.

Things had been quiet on both the business and marital fronts. Lacy still contacted him at every opportunity, but Aaron only attended essential functions to avoid her.

His mother's matchmaking attempts had failed; he hadn't even agreed to a single blind date. He was reserved for Keeley. Why waste time on shallow women?

As for work, his plans were progressing, and he'd reached a point where his father couldn't easily control him. This gave him the confidence to pursue Keeley seriously. He believed he could protect her from schemers with his current power.

Keeley's phone buzzed, causing her to frown, check her messages, and then slap her forehead.

"Look, I really have to go home now. I haven't even started my paper."

Aaron was disappointed but hid it. More opportunities would arise. At least she hadn't yelled at him. He signaled for the check and boxed Keeley's leftovers, surprising her. He wasn't sure whether to be insulted; her opinion of him hadn't changed much. He needed to improve that.

He wanted to discuss her cat, but couldn't. The second they were in the car, she pulled out her laptop and furiously typed, radiating "do not disturb" vibes.

He suddenly felt sorry for treating her that way. It was unsettling.

Keeley remained busy during the forty-minute drive, but got off a few blocks from her home, politely thanking him and wishing him well, as if expecting no further contact. It was the same ploy she used in high school.

Aaron was disgruntled. Despite her civility, she was guarded. Her farewell suggested she considered the date a coincidence.

'Nice try, my love,' he thought. 'You're not getting away that easily.'

Back at his apartment, a heavy sense of loss washed over him. This six-bedroom, five-bathroom, three-story penthouse wasn't meant to be a bachelor pad. The first floor contained a guest room, office, and library. The second was for entertaining, with a large terrace. The remaining bedrooms were on the third floor, which also accessed the roof.

An apartment this size was meant for a family. He'd let Keeley decorate freely this time, instead of following his mother's advice and hiring an interior designer, as he had for their previous home. She would appreciate that.

He'd considered buying their old home after college but decided against it. Keeley wouldn't know, but he had unhappy memories there, especially since he couldn't bear to leave after she died.

A fresh start would be better. He wished she'd be comfortable enough to move in soon. Even after seeing her, he missed his wife.

His phone rang as he gazed at the lonely skyline. He answered angrily, recognizing the caller.

"What?" he barked.

"You will attend tonight's cocktail party," Alistair commanded. "Find a date, or I will."

Aaron wanted to break something. So much for a break from his parents' matchmaking.

He couldn't antagonize Alistair yet; he still needed at least half the wildcard shareholders on his side.

"I'll bring someone," he said frostily, hanging up.

He mentally reviewed eligible socialites. He'd rather stab himself than ask Lacy Knighton. Rachel von Dyne was too close to Lacy. Sarah Silver was a sloppy drunk—unacceptable for his family's image; Alistair would kill him.

The list of acceptable women was distressingly short. However, Alistair hadn't specified his date had to be from their circle. An actress or model would suffice. He happened to know an actress needing work.