Pascal slowly turned around, his hand dropping from the brass doorknob. He looked at her as if she were speaking a language he couldn't comprehend. "What did you say?"
Rebecca closed the distance between them, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.
"I remember the boardrooms, Pascal," she said, her voice soft but laced with the undeniable confidence of the woman he had sparred with for years. "I remember the late-night negotiations. I remember the adrenaline."
She stopped just inches from his chest.
"Marcus thinks we hated each other. Maybe the rest of New York thought we did, too," she continued, looking up into his stunned, bloodshot eyes. "But I know exactly how my heart raced every time you walked into a room. I know why I worked twelve-hour days just to make sure my pitches w
