The summons came through email, short and formal, nothing like the warm notes Ronan sometimes sent her late at night. Ms. Monroe, please come to my office at 3 p.m. Desmond Voss.
Ivy read it three times before her stomach settled enough to breathe normally. She had never once spoken to Desmond Voss directly. She had seen him only from a distance, at the gala, across a crowded room, a tall, composed figure who seemed to command attention without ever raising his voice. Now he wanted to see her, alone, and she had no idea why.
She found Ronan in the hallway before the meeting, and the worry on her face must have shown, because he pulled her gently into an empty conference room before she could say a word.
"My father called you in?" His voice was careful, controlled, though something tight
