Vicky’s POV

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and my grip on the leather portfolio in my hands tightened. I should’ve been home hours ago, curled up on my couch with takeout and mindless TV.

Instead, here I was, dragging myself to a late night meeting that Dominic Blackwell had requested personally. A meeting he’d said would be private.

My stomach twisted with unease as I stepped out onto the top floor. The executive suite was dimly lit, bathed in golden light that ...