The underground parking lot echoed with the dull hum of fluorescent lights and the measured clicks of expensive shoes on concrete. Auden Bernard walked ahead, his coat draped neatly over his arm, while Charles trotted a step behind, juggling keys, files, and a tablet.
“I’ll confirm the fittings for Milan tomorrow,” Charles said, glancing at his screen. “And the Paris office has requested a—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
So did Auden.
Maeve stood near the exit. Still in her heels, still in her shoot makeup, but her hair was messier now, curled strands falling loose around her face. Her expression was unreadable at first glance but her clenched jaw, the fire in her eyes, and the white-knuckled grip on her phone told Auden everything he needed to know.
She walked toward him with purpose.
“M
