The Master Keycard

Chapter 3 The Stolen Position

My father insisted that I visit Madame Dubois' private salon before the summit. I was trying on a midnight-blue silk gown when the door chimed.

Julian came in with Serena hanging from his arm. She moved through the salon with the excitement of someone who expected every door to open for her.

The strain around Julian's mouth gave away what the rest of his suit tried to hide: he could no longer afford this place.

From the private viewing alcove, I watched Serena move between racks of gowns and hold one after another against herself. Julian followed, checking the price tags whenever she turned away.

A sales associate approached them with the same dress Serena had shown online.

“Mr. Thorne, shall we send this anniversary piece to your fiancée's apartment as well?”

Julian had one word to say: *No.*

Serena hooked her arm through his. “Just send everything to Julian's penthouse. I'll be there to receive it.”

She waited. So did I.

Julian gave the associate a short nod.

That nod hurt less than I expected. It finished what the keycard had started.

Then he noticed me. His gaze traveled from my gown to the private alcove, and his mouth curled.

“Well, well. Spending your last dime to keep up appearances, Chloe? A little desperate, don't you think?” He spoke loudly enough for the salon staff to hear.

Serena joined him with her head tilted in false concern. “Julian, don't be so harsh.”

She turned to me. “Actually, Chloe, if you're looking for work, I could use an assistant. I might even get you a visitor's pass for the summit. It would be a great learning opportunity.”

I laughed. The offer was ridiculous enough to strip the last sting from the encounter. She had my desk and my project, yet still needed me to make either one useful.

“No, thank you, Serena. I hope your presentation next week is as good as your nerve.”

Color rose up Julian's neck. “You'll regret that attitude. Don't come crawling back to me for a job when you have nothing left.”

He pulled Serena toward the door.

On the counter behind me, Madame Dubois had laid out the midnight-blue gown Julian assumed I could not afford.

(Julian's POV)