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My silence speaks volumes.
“It’s Crown and Black, isn’t it?”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“What the fuck, Eloise?! Do you fucking hate me?!”
I grit my teeth. “Cammie, it wasn’t my decision. Massimo?—”
“You’re seriously working for Alistair?!” she snaps coldly. “After what that piece of shit did to me?!”
To you, and to me. To hurt me, by hurting you.
Which sounds so shitty, but I know it’s true. Alistair doesn’t do random. Whatever happened with my sister and Alistair—however murky the facts are—was done to hurt me. That’s bad enough.
What makes it awful is that now I’m working here, under him.
“Camille, I’m sorry. It’s not at all my decision. Massimo made it pretty fucking clear that I don’t have a choice?—”
“Yeah, kind of like how I didn’t have a choice.”
My eyes close. “Camille, let’s talk?—”
“Enjoy reminiscing with your piece of shit ex-boyfriend, you backstabbing bitch.”
She hangs up abruptly, and any wind that might have been in my sails when I walked in here dies instantly.
Goddammit.
I sigh as I silence the phone and slip it into my bag again. Then I turn and plaster a smile on my face as I walk back over to Megan.
“Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” She smiles, then lowers her voice. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but…sibling?”
I make a face and nod.
“My brother’s a handful, too,” she grins, clearly trying to put me at ease. “I totally understand.”
I smile weakly. “Thanks.”
“But we should hustle,” she says, her smile a bit more nervous now. “Not, uh…not everyone might understand, if you know what I mean.”
I do.
She means Alistair won’t understand. Or care, for that matter.
I follow Megan down the hall into a huge, open-concept office space full of low cubicles.
“This is the main floor, where the associates, junior associates, and aides all have their workspaces. The conference rooms are here too. Third floor is for the legal libraries, boardroom, and offices of the board members”…she gives me a conspiratorial wink…“when they’re even here, that is.”
I follow her up a gorgeous, sweeping glass and steel staircase in the middle of the huge open space that leads up to a second floor that rings above the first.
“Here on level two…” she continues as we get to the top of the stairs. “Partners’ offices and conference room.” She turns and indicates a gorgeous, all-glass corner office filled with stunning art, beautiful mid-century furniture, and flowering plants. “Ms. Crown’s executive office. Down there…” She points to another glassed-in corner of the building, this one far more masculine; all wood, brass, and dark hues. “Mr. Black…Gabriel Black, that is,” she adds. “And then, if you’ll follow me…”
I swallow the large lump in my throat as I follow Megan to the last corner of the floor. This office is glass, too, but unlike Taylor’s and Gabriel’s, the blinds are drawn, obscuring the interior.
“Mr. Black’s office,” she says with a slightly nervous smile as we stop outside the closed door. A young, pretty woman smiles at us from behind her desk just outside. “Mrs. Carveli?”
