Monday afternoons always brought a certain kind of pressure. But this Monday wasn’t about mergers or courtroom prep. It was about control. And damage control, at that. The plan I set in motion on Saturday was unfolding now, on the polished floors of my own office. I just didn’t know how much it would cost. It started with the click of heels across the marble. Camille Raines—calm, beautiful, dangerous. A tailored black coat hugged her sharp frame, and her heels cut through the murmur of the firm like a warning bell. She moved like she had something to prove, but knew she’d already won. I watched from behind my blinds as she made her way to Ivy’s desk. Ivy didn’t see me. But I saw her. I saw how her expression changed as Camille approached. Subtle, but enough to stab something under my ribs.
