AUTHOR
The penthouse was silent, a stark contrast to the storm of theories swirling in Paige's head. She found him not in his study, but in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the unmade bed.
The dim light from the en-suite bathroom carved out the sharp lines of his profile. He was still in his suit trousers and a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his phone dark in his hand as he stared at nothing.
A wave of relief washed over her. "Thank goodness you're here," she breathed, the words tumbling out in a rushed exhale.
She didn't wait for a response, crossing the room and starting to pace in front of him. "I've been thinking all day. I hit a wall with the data—it's too clean, Reomen. It's professionally done. And it has to be personal, right? To target my deal? So I started thinking about who would want to hurt us both, and it kept circling back…"
