The door swung open without a knock.
“I didn’t know you were busy,” Veronica Dane said smoothly, her eyes flicking from Nicholas to Clara with the kind of languid precision that made it clear she had known—and didn’t care.
Clara straightened in her chair, spine taut.
Nicholas didn’t rise from behind his desk, but his gaze sharpened. “What do you want, Veronica?”
She stepped further in, each click of her heels a measured beat. “I came to discuss some legal conditions regarding the Marlowe acquisition. The board’s pushing for faster timelines, but the due diligence reports…” She gave a faint shrug, as though details were secondary to her presence.
Her gaze drifted to Clara. “I see you’ve… expanded your inner circle.”
Clara’s pulse tightened. “You know I’m working on the Monarch Gala.”
