“Boss, I am here,” Venice said as she slid into the passenger seat of Edward’s sleek, black car. “I have been waiting for you to contact me.”
Edward, seated in the driver’s seat, was deeply engrossed in a thick folder of documents, his brow furrowed in concentration. Hearing her voice, he glanced up briefly, his sharp eyes scanning her before returning to his files. “So, what’s the news? Is there any progress?” he asked, his tone businesslike but laced with the slightest edge of impatience.
Venice shifted in her seat, trying to find the right words. “It’s complicated,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “We have made some progress. I have talked with Jenna and after knowing the truth… I don’t think someone like Jenna would want to stay with Marcel.”
Edward’s hand stilled on the pa
