Julian's corner office anchored the chaos of panoramic windows framing La Défense's angular sprawl, his desk a fortress of polished walnut stacked with rejection memos and probate drafts.
He had been stewing since the corridor glimpse of Eleanor's dizzy spell, Calder's arm around her waist, the cafeteria's booth a private haven he couldn't breach.
"Too close. Too often." The board's retention buoyed his authority and the time to wield it.
He buzzed his assistant. "Get Calder up here. Now. Senior consultant from the strategy team."
Minutes later, the door opened with a soft whoosh. Calder entering poised, gray suit impeccable, tablet tucked under arm like a shield.
His expression was neutral, consultant's mask intact. "Mr. Voss. You called?"
Julian rose from his chair, gesturing to
