Amelia stared at the stack of papers on Andrew’s desk, her mind drifting. Beatty’s name jumped out at her, bold and glaring, like a needle pricking right behind her eyes.
She squeezed her fists, shut her eyes, and let out a slow breath. It’s just sixty percent of my savings, she told herself. No big deal. I can always make it back. At least Andrew gave me a say. He could have just sent me away without asking.
Her thoughts spun in circles until a light, pleasant voice broke through the noise.
“Mr. Lane, are we leaving now?”
It was a young woman’s voice, steady and warm in a way that made her sound both approachable and professional. The kind of voice you’d expect from a woman who knew exactly who she was.
Amelia turned to see who it was.
Andrew stood at the door, his back to her. Beside him was a woman Amelia had never seen before, looking up at him with a gentle smile.
The woman wore a fitted white sweater and flared jeans, topped with a black overcoat almost identical to Andrew’s. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, her makeup barely there, just a hint of pale lipstick.
She wasn’t the sort of beauty that stopped you in your tracks, but there was something striking about her. She carried herself with real confidence. Standing next to Andrew, she looked perfectly at ease, neither shy nor overly familiar. Her smile was subtle, not too cold, not too friendly, and the more Amelia looked, the more she noticed how the woman’s quiet expression made her seem even more interesting.
Who is she? Amelia’s mind raced.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Andrew nodded at the woman. “Let’s go.”
The woman glanced into the office and hesitated. “Mr. Lane, and this is…?”
Without turning, Andrew said, “Just call her Ms. Lane.”


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