Chapter 1 - THE INSULT THAT STARTED IT ALL
“Are you blind, you stupid cow?”
The words hit Emma Caldwell so sharply that, for a second, she actually looked behind herself.
Surely the woman couldn’t be talking to her.
The marble lobby of Northstar Build Systems was bright with late-morning sun, the glass walls throwing clean rectangles of light across the polished floor. A delivery driver hurried toward the elevators with three boxes stacked against his chest. Somewhere behind the security desk, a phone rang twice.
Emma stood beside a young blonde woman holding a paper coffee cup.
Their shoulders had brushed.
That was all.
Not enough to spill the coffee. Not enough to stain either woman’s clothes. Barely enough to notice.
“I’m sorry,” Emma said slowly. “Did you just call me a stupid cow?”
The blonde woman rolled her eyes.
“You walked straight into me.”
“I stepped aside for the delivery guy.”
“Then maybe learn how to look where you’re going.”
Emma stared at her.
At forty-three, she had spent more than two decades designing restaurants, renovated brownstones, boutique hotels, and expensive homes for people who sometimes thought a large bank account gave them permission to forget basic manners.
She had learned not to react quickly.
Anger made people careless.
Silence often made them reveal more.
So Emma adjusted the strap of her handbag and said, “I apologized. You might consider trying the same thing.”
The young woman gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“Do you even know where you are?”
Emma glanced toward the enormous silver NORTHSTAR BUILD SYSTEMS sign mounted behind the reception desk.
“I have a rough idea.”
“That visitor badge says otherwise.”
Emma looked down at the temporary pass clipped to her cream blazer.
The security guard had issued it ten minutes earlier after checking her driver’s license.
She had never visited this office before.
Northstar had moved into the downtown Chicago tower five months earlier, and Grant had been promising to give her the grand tour ever since.
But Grant had been busy.
Too busy.
Three weeks of dinners reheated after ten at night.
Two canceled lunches.
One anniversary reservation moved because of a contract negotiation.
And last night, while standing in their kitchen with his tie loosened and his phone buzzing against the counter, Grant had promised, “Friday. Noon. I’m yours for lunch. No matter what catches fire.”
Then, at 9:17 that morning, he had texted.
Emergency meeting. Rain check?
Emma had stared at the message.
Then she had looked at her own schedule.
Her eleven o’clock client meeting had canceled.
So she made a decision.
No rain check.
She would surprise him.
She would drag her overworked husband downstairs, feed him something that didn’t come from a conference room catering tray, and remind him that he was still married to a woman who occasionally expected to see his face in daylight.
That had been the plan.
Now she was being called livestock by a stranger in his lobby.
“Let’s forget it,” Emma said. “I’m here to see someone.”
The blonde woman stepped sideways, blocking her path toward the elevators.
“Visitors wait at reception.”
“I’ve already checked in.”
“I work here. I know the rules.”
Emma finally noticed the badge hanging from the woman’s neck.
MADISON PIERCE.
Executive Office.
Interesting.
Emma looked at her more closely.
Late twenties, maybe thirty. Perfectly curled blonde hair. Expensive heels. Cream silk blouse. Diamond studs that were either very real or very convincing.
“Executive office?” Emma asked.
Madison’s chin rose.
“Yes.”
“Do you work for Grant Caldwell?”
Something changed.
Not fear.
Possession.
“Yes.”
Emma almost smiled.
Grant hadn’t mentioned hiring a new executive assistant.
His longtime assistant, Carol, had retired during the summer to move closer to her grandchildren. Emma remembered Grant complaining for weeks that no one could replace her.
Apparently someone had.
“I’m here to see him.”
Madison’s gaze traveled from Emma’s shoes to her handbag and back to her face.
“Mr. Caldwell is unavailable.”
“I’ll check with him.”
Emma reached for her phone.
Madison laughed.
“Good luck.”
That tone made Emma pause.
“Excuse me?”
“You people always think if you know a CEO’s name, you can walk in and demand attention.”
“You people?”
“Clients. Contractors. Sales reps. Whatever you are.”
Emma stared at her.
Then she laughed.
She couldn’t help it.
Madison’s face hardened.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
“You won’t when security escorts you out.”
Emma slipped her phone back into her purse.
“You really enjoy threatening people, don’t you?”
“I don’t threaten anyone. I explain consequences.”
“That must save time.”
May you like
Madison stepped closer.
“Let me explain something more clearly. My husband owns this company. One phone call from me, and you won’t get through the front doors again.”
