el. Foster Deron stood beside Eleanor, his presence as unobtrusive and a

spoken power. The only sound was the click of Eleanor's new, sensible heels on the Italian marble. Heads bowed over ke

mahogany doors. A simple brass pl

e," Deron stated, his voice fla

O's door. There were no cubicle walls, no privacy screens. It was an island of exposure, designed

tablet. "First rule: anticipate Mr. Vanderbilt's needs. Second

cool metal was a dead weigh

figure in a violently pink Chanel suit, walking with the arrogant stride of someone who h

rigid. A jolt, like

rbilt

hell. And, as rumor had it, a distant cousin of Sebastian's who was

on Eleanor. First, a flicker of confusion. Then, recognit

her perfect lips. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Eleanor Ba

digging into her palms. She forced a placid, professional

b. Amber's face tightened. She hated being reminded s

here," Amber hissed, he

ist, a motion so deliberate it was almost artistic, she "stumbled." The

oed in the quiet office

ing, a secret she kept buried, took over. It wasn't a dramatic leap. It

less Persian rug behind her with a sickening sizzle. A few dark drop

ven glance a

sing them against the stain on the rug. Her movements were calm, efficien

the executive floor. Requesting immediate cleanup crew."

ape. She had expected screams. Tears. A s

heir chairs. The pity in their sidelong glances h

cern. She met Amber's stunned gaze. "Ms. Vander

a slap, deliver

any doors to the CEO

es took in the scene in a single, sweeping glance: the dark stain on the rug, Amber's furious, th

terrifying speed, bustled pas

ply looked at Eleanor and lift

offic

ned her spine, and walked past Amber'

sed behind her, shu