Sloane sat on the kitchen floor with her back against the cabinet and her heels finally — finally — off her feet, and stared at nothing.
Secretarial department. Executive floor. His floor.
She turned the formula scoop over in her hand. The kitchen smelled like warm milk and the lavender wipes she used to clean sticky fingerprints off absolutely every surface of her life.
Just resign. The thought circled her brain for the hundredth time. Walk in tomorrow, say thank you, no thank you, and walk back out.
Except Kai Torres's voice kept cutting through: Making Declan Pierce reconsider a decision he's already made? Not very good for your health.
She'd googled Declan Pierce tonight. Deeply. Thoroughly. The kind of research she probably should have done before she walked into his building and
