Emma had spent most of the afternoon buried beneath reports.
The contract negotiations from last week were finally moving forward.
Which should have been good news.
Instead it meant meetings.
Followed by meetings discussing the previous meetings.
Emma was beginning to suspect corporations existed primarily to schedule calendars.
A knock sounded against her office door.
Before she could answer, it opened.
Naturally.
Rowan Blackwood walked in carrying a large bouquet of flowers.
And an envelope.
Emma blinked.
Then looked at him.
Then at the flowers.
Then back at him.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Finally, Rowan pointed at the arrangement.
“I object.”
Emma leaned back in her chair.
“To what?”
“This.”
He held up the bouquet.
“You brought it.”
“That isn’t the point.
