Theodora’s rage grew with every passing moment. The opportunity for retribution, the one she’d never thought to have, was close at hand. The prospect of getting even with Max for everything that had happened to her in this life, all of which was his fault, was enough to make her dizzy.
But she couldn’t make a mistake.
And she didn’t want to let Armand down.
The elevator was slow, painfully slow, seeming to inch its way between floors. The eighteenth floor could have been an eternity away. There was another shade in the elevator, taking a room service tray to floor sixteen, so they didn’t talk.
The elevator was filled with the smell of steak—though surely it would be faux-flesh styled to look like beef—and she realized with a start that she hadn’t eaten in more than a day.
Hunger kept
