Every time she heard the elevator, her eyes pinged up. It was Wednesday and Grant hadn’t come in yet. So far, there had been no call from him to explain his absence. But she wasn’t his superior—he didn’t have a superior—so he could do whatever the hell he liked. The company kept on going without him. He’d done a good job of running it since his mentor Frank Mitchell died last year, so he didn’t need to be here every minute, though he usually was.
After lunch, she was losing hope of seeing him. When the elevator pinged again, she glanced up with little expectation only to be confronted by the sight of Grant coming out of it with one of the female vice-presidents. Zara had never been so grateful for having a glass-fronted office. Grant’s blinds were always closed when he wasn’t in there. No
