Wine splashed onto Joanne's blouse, but she barely noticed. Snatching a handful of tissues with shaking hands, she thrust them forward. "Mr. Bennett, I—I didn't mean to spill that."
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't take this crap.
But Seth Bennett wasn't just anyone—he was from the Bennett family. And here she stood, alone in this private lounge, her exit depending entirely on his mood.
The instigator—some lackey still clutching the wine bottle—sneered. "Cut the act! You drenched Mr. Bennett's pants! Quit staring and clean him up!"
It wasn't pride stopping her. The damp patch stretched across Seth's thigh—way too personal for a work setting. Her jaw tightened. "I'll pay for the cleaning," she said evenly. "Or name your price for the trousers."
"Ha!" Another crony barked. "You
