sh fell over the open-plan office. The low hum of conversation, the fra

xed on her, a silent, collective stare filled with a potent co

lked through the sea of desks, her heels clicking a steady, unhurried rhythm on

he silence. It belonged to Evelyn Foster, a senior designer on the jewelry exhibition

a fight over a necklace?" Evelyn's voice was shrill with glee. "So

titters of lau

retch, letting the weight of her stillness hang in the air. Then,

eaning against the counter, a smug look on her fac

ugh the room like a razor. "If you have this much time for gossip, perhaps I s

oked panicked. But then, emboldened by the morning's events, a sneer r

rs. Sterling' card with me. Everyone in this

ce entered the fray. It was low, laced with arctic frost, and

mission to speak

ng there, his face a thundercloud of controlled rage. Caleb hovere

a heartbeat. "Mr... Mr. Sterling... I... we w

e room, his presence so immense it seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the air. He moved to stand sl

He turned his head slightly. "Caleb, have HR draw up her se

yn looked like she had been physically struck

enly found urgent business elsewhere

uddenly empty, save

ing in the pale skin and the defiant set of her jaw. A musc

. He frowned, then turned, opened the small refrigerator, and took out a ch

laced with an infuriating condescension. "Drink this. You've made

is grand gesture of firing her tormentor and offering a truce was a gift

im was not the same one who had

to his face, and her eyes were completely, utterly empty. The

ep back, creating d

her voice polite, formal, and as co

, her movements gra

sing grip. "What the hell is your problem?" he growled, his frust

er arm, her expression one of pure, undiluted revulsion. The look o

ssional environment," she said, her voice

cheerful ringtone a jarring intrusion. She pulled it from her po

ffection. She turned her back on Julian completely, walking out of

r bottle in his hand began to crack and buckle under the force of his grip