Daphne Greer walked into that room like she was the result of AI-generated arrogance and elite genetics. She didn’t glide. She hovered. Like oxygen had to ask permission to reach her. And I swear... her dress had its own NDA.
No greeting. No explanation. Just a micro-smile.
Jack blinked once, leaned slightly back in his chair. “I thought you were out of the country.”
Ryan adjusted his cuff. “Her trip got postponed.”
That was it. That was the whole statement. No softness, no welcome-back energy, just cold efficiency in verbal form. He could deliver a pregnancy announcement like a court summons.
I smiled... sort of. It came out like a dying emoji.
Daphne’s eyes finally landed on me. Slow. Dissecting. Like I was a suspicious transaction on her credit card. “You’re the PR girl?”
My spin
