most exclusive private clubs. The air inside was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, aged whiske

ker of sympathy in his eyes. She ignored it, just as she ignored the curious and speculativ

n a semi-private VIP booth in the back. Egnacio Hayes. The line o

he lapels of her suit, and forced a smile onto her face. I

? annoyance?-crossed his face before it was instan

s voice smooth as si

er seat opposite him. "Thought I'd see if an old friend could help

d in his glass, the ice cubes clinking softly. The

e him, a man who had been watching her w

o said, his tone suddenly bright and effusive. "Dexter's j

certainly hadn't expected Egnacio to pivot to a busi

nreadable shade of grey, scanned her as if he were assessing a

the street," Egnacio continued, his voice a little

ow. He was changing the subject. He was building

said, forcing herself to look at Egnacio. "A forced

asset restructuring," he said, gesturing toward the silent man beside him, "yo

restru

lity, and translated it into the cold, impersonal language of a deal. He was

rhythm on the arm of the sofa. He knew. He could feel

embroke, was watching the exchange with undisguised

er chest, threatening to drown her. She dug her nails into her thigh, the sha

pleasure," she said, her voice a credit to years of

. The brief contact sent a strange jolt through her, but it di

g her hand back and standing up abruptly. Her knee h

the dark wood, a sticky, ug

her steps too fast, almost a run. The long, opulent hallway seemed to stre

and locked it behind her. Leaning against the cold,

ack, a perfectly composed woman with s

splashed the icy water on her face, again and again, trying to wash away the sting of h