Chapter 4

A week later.

After spending the morning at Christie’s fall preview, I decided to surprise Nathan with macarons from Ladurée. The front desk security guard–Mike, I think gave me his usual warm smile as I signed in. “Want me to let Mr. Pierce know you’re here, Mrs. Pierce?” I shook my head with a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s make it a surprise.”

When I reached the top floor, I tapped on the heavy oak door of his corner office. Nathan’s boardroom voice cut through: “I specifically said no interruptions.”

“Even for your wife?”

Beep. The security lock clicked open.

The floor–to–ceiling windows were dimmed to their darkest setting, turning the spectacular Manhattan view into a muted backdrop. Nathan sat behind his massive Restoration Hardware desk, his expression softening when he saw

me.

“This is unexpected.”

I gave him a playful pout. “Brought you something sweet. Though you weren’t very sweet just now.”

“Ten–minute break,” he spoke into his MacBook before pulling out his AirPod Pro. He massaged his temples, looking exhausted. “Sorry, angel. Quarterly board meeting. Didn’t realize it was you.”

live?” I

Just muted myself.”

That smile foll

with spread across his face. “But I never pass

the visitor chairs. “Well then, let me pamper my overworked

opened the signature mint green box and lifted a rose raspberry

but

the macaron mid–air,

after a moment spoke in a strained voice: “Just

go. Let you catch your breath before you dive back in.”

voice slightly raspy. “Text me next time – I’ll block off my afternoon.”

back. Nathan was reclining in his Herman Miller, head tilted back, the filtered sunlight casting shadows across

Chapter 4

bank, something felt

past the executive assistants‘ area, I saw his

slipped

furtively, I saw her face

Claire Morrison.

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