The club was all dark wood and amber light, the kind of place where powerful men had been deciding things quietly for a very long time.
Nathaniel and Claire arrived at eight thirty and were seated in a corner booth by a manager who clearly knew Nathaniel’s family name and could not do enough to accommodate them. Marcus arrived ten minutes later with two board members, apparently coincidentally, taking a table across the room.
At five past nine, Vanessa walked in.
She looked extraordinary, which Claire had expected, and confident, which Claire had also expected. What she had not expected was the brief, unguarded moment when Vanessa scanned the room and her eyes landed on Nathaniel, and something moved across her face that was not hatred or triumph but something far older and considerably
