The door to the east wing bedroom clicked shut, and for the first time in hours, I let my shoulders drop. The adrenaline that had carried me through the press conference evaporated, leaving my limbs heavy and my skin feeling too tight.
I moved with mechanical efficiency as I stripped off the suit and the blouse. I hung them in the closet with a sense of detachment. They were armor and I didn’t need them right now. I reached for the soft, charcoal cashmere set. As the fabric touched my skin, I felt a shudder of relief. I wasn’t the “Red Queen” or the “Executioner CFO” in this room. I was just Tess.
But “just Tess” still had work to do.
I grabbed the laptop and retreated to the bed. I propped myself up against the headboard. The sun was starting to sink outside the window, casting sha
