PHOENIX IN PRADA
— NATHALIE —
I was enjoying the view.
Specifically the view of a perfect set of abs belonging to my fiancé, who was standing at the window in the early morning light doing absolutely nothing dramatic and somehow still managing to look like a Renaissance painting that had decided to skip the robe. I had been quietly calculating how long I could justify staying in bed before the Corporate Shark part of my brain took over when my phone rang.
Daniel. Seven in the morning. Daniel never called before nine.
Daniel before nine meant something was very wrong.
"There's a story," he said without preamble. "Financial press, three major outlets, already spreading. It went live an hour ago."
"What kind of story?"
"The kind that says Harrison Industries has been misreporting its
