“I’ll see if anything is up when I see her,” I said, then looked down as Bear came over to my side of the island to inspect whether I’d dropped any tasty morsels on the ground for him to enjoy. Finding nothing, he sat down and panted at me, hopeful.

I rubbed his head and smiled. “If everyone were as simple to understand as you are, Bear, life would be a lot easier.”

He tilted his head, one of his gigantic ears prickling. Then he licked his chops and put his paw on my leg, and I laughed.

If only Rome Blakely were motivated by the promise of food, I’d know how to deal with him. As it was, I had to prepare for a Monday meeting with no idea what I’d be facing.

SIX

NIKKI

The entiretyof my employment at the Blakely Advertising Agency had been spent in the studios located on the bottom two floors of the skyscraper, with the exception of a visit to HR on the fifth floor to do some paperwork on my first day.

As I entered the glossy, luxurious lobby on a brisk autumn morning, it already felt like a strange place in which I didn’t belong. My heels echoed on the marble floors as my gaze snagged on a few palm fronds fluttering in an artificial breeze in the corner.

The security desk was to my right, with the elevators directly in front, behind a row of electronic gates. I took a deep breath.

“Everything will be fine,” Phil Phillips told me reassuringly. “Let’s just hear them out. I’ll cut in if I think they’re trying to do something that isn’t in your best interest.”

He was a tall, wiry man in his early sixties, with kind brown eyes and a full head of hair. His suit looked expensive—bespoke, probably—and he wore a designer watch. He moved easily, like he knew he belonged in spaces exactly like this one.

I was glad to have him beside me. “Okay. Thank you for coming,” I told him.

The older man inclined his head, then strode to the security desk to check in.

I scurried after him, stopping at the chest-high piece of marble. The man behind the counter had dark-brown skin and close-cut hair. His beard was trimmed to millimeter-precision. He looked as glossy and attractive as the rest of the people who worked in this building, and I wondered how I’d snuck past that particular filter to get a job in the first place.

But I was here, and there was an expensive lawyer beside me, so I might as well see why Blakely had set this meeting in the first place.

“Nikita Jordan here to see Rome Blakely,” I told him, my voice wobbling a tiny bit. “I have an appointment.”

The man nodded and tapped on his computer. “He’s expecting you,” he said, then shifted his gaze to the lawyer beside me. “And you are?”

“Phil Phillips. I’m representing Ms. Jordan.”

“Of course. Please fill out the tablet in front of you to sign in, and I’ll issue your visitor passes.” He gestured to the device bolted to the check-in desk, then waited patiently for us to finish the sign-in process. Once we were done, he gave me an encouraging smile as he handed me my visitor pass. “Take the elevator to the forty-second floor. Someone will be there to greet you.”

“Thank you,” I said, then took a deep breath and passed through the gates that granted us access to the elevator bank.

“Nikki?”

I turned to see Eleanor struggling through one of the doors leading to the ground-floor studio at the back of the building. She had an unwieldy cardboard box in her hands, and I hurried over to help her with the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a meeting with Rome Blakely,” I explained.

She looked at me like I’d started speaking another language. “What?”

I laughed. “I know.”

Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ballerina bun. She blew out a breath and shook her head. “Good luck. You want to grab a drink or something this week? How’s the hand? Have you heard about them offering everyone full benefits this week?” She glanced behind me and shook her head. “The elevator’s here. Call me when you’re done! We’ll go out tonight and you can tell me everything.”

Smiling, I nodded and hustled over to where Phil held open the elevator door. One of the security guards swiped his pass and pressed the button for the forty-second floor for us before stepping out to let the doors close. I noticed it was as high as the numbers went. We were headed to the top of the building.

“What was she saying?” Phil asked. “The woman you were speaking to.”

“Who, Eleanor? She just wanted to grab a drink with me later.”