Salome’s POV
"That's her," Callum whispered, his gaze snagging on a woman across the deck.
She was striking in a way that felt like a warning. Her hair was a sharp, dark bob that hit just above her shoulders, framing a face that looked carved from marble. She wore a black satin slip dress that caught the moonlight, hugging a frame that screamed poise and authority. She didn't just occupy the room; she owned the air inside it.
Callum didn't wait for me to ask. He was already moving toward her. "Rita Bush," he muttered under his breath, his voice tight. "She runs the Washington branch."
She was halfway to the stairs when Callum’s voice cut through the low hum of the yacht’s engine. "Ms. Bush!"
She paused, turning with a slow, practiced grace. "Callum," she said. Her voice was cool, the
