Rivera closed the door behind her. The sound lingered longer than Reagan expected. Through the transparent wall that overlooked the high-octane buzz of the executive floor, he watched her. Rivera Banks, no, Rivera Royce, though she refused to acknowledge it, didn’t spare him a single backward glance. That defiance irritated him more than it should have, but it was the one thing that had his gaze anchored on her.
He waited until the corridor outside swallowed her completely before he exhaled. Only then did he loosen his grip on the edge of the desk.
“Stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath. He poured himself a drink he didn’t need, took one sip, then set the glass aside.
Then he stood, and moved toward the windows. The city stretched below him, loud, alive and predictable in its ch
