Yvette Paul looked at her as if she were an insect. Demetria kept her head held high and her eyes firmly on the stunning woman that became a lot less stunning in a matter of seconds. A tense and uncomfortable silence enveloped them. Demetria felt obligated to break it.
"How do you do, Miss Paul?" she said, unable to disguise the lazy drawl in her voice. She didn't really care, but she had to be polite about it. She was her boss's future wife, after all.
"Quite well," she forced a smile, "and yourself?"
"Can't complain."
Mr. Ryker was still looking at her in that way of his that she couldn't quite decipher. She held his eyes for some time, and then tore her gaze away when Mrs. Bailey directed a question at his fiancée. Her entire face was probably beet-red. She wasn't good at that. A
