Novel-novel oleh Mlateefa

Isla didn't sleep, and she didn't pretend to try.By five in the morning she'd read the memo eleven times. By six, she'd printed it, laid it flat on her kitchen table under the light, and gone through it the way she went through every piece of evidence in her career: line by line, looking for the crack that would tell her whether it was real.There wasn't one. The letterhead was correct. The formatting matched internal Cross Industries templates she'd already seen in the case files. The signature, small, slanted, impatient, looked exactly like the one on the employment contract sitting in her bag.*Use Marcus Webb. Create a situation where she publicly embarrasses herself. Ensure she's removed from the case.*She'd built her whole life on the belief that if she worked hard enough, was careful enough, she could not be made a fool of. And here was proof, dated six months ago, that she'd been a target before she'd ever known Damien Cross's face.Her phone buzzed. Damien: Car's downstairs

Monday morning arrived clean, cold and bright.Isla stood outside Cross Industries in her sharpest suit, coffee in hand, telling herself she was not scared.She was extremely scared."You look like you're about to walk into a fire," said a voice behind her.David fell into step beside her. Up close, the head of security was even more striking, silver hair cut close, eyes that took in everything at once, the kind of stillness that only comes from someone who is never caught off guard."Is it that obvious?" Isla asked."Your coffee cup is shaking." David held the door. "Come on. I'll show you around before the sharks smell blood."The offices were all glass and light. Modern, open, nothing like the dark wood and closed doors of Sterling & Wade. David walked Isla through security clearance, introduced her to her assistant Michelle, young, sharp, already two steps ahead and showed her to her office."This is me?" Isla stared at the room. Corner office. Two windows. A view of the Hudson R

Saturday morning. Jordan's apartment. Four hundred and twelve social media notifications.Isla had stopped counting.She was sitting cross-legged on the guest bed surrounded by the three hundred pages of reading material Damien had sent over, a highlighter in her hand and a half-eaten piece of toast going cold beside her. She'd been awake since five.She was smiling."That's not normal," Jordan said from the doorway."What?""You're reading utility company contracts and smiling. At eight in the morning. Two days after your fiancé cheated on you.""Ex-fiancé." She circled a clause in the document. "And these are fascinating. Do you know how old some of these union agreements are? There's a labor provision in here that was written before I was born. Cross's team wants to convert this company to solar power but they can't just…..""Isla.""....restructure the workforce without renegotiating half these contracts which means….""Isla." Jordan crossed his arms. "You are happy. Genuinely, a

Cross Industries was a glass tower in Hudson Yards, all clean lines and wide windows and light that felt like it had been designed by someone who didn't want to hide anything.Nothing like Sterling & Wade. Nothing like the wood paneling and old paintings and careful darkness that said: we have always had power.Isla stood in the lobby at five minutes to six and told herself to breathe.The receptionist recognized her immediately. Of course she did. Isla's face had been on social media for twelve straight hours."Mr. Cross is expecting you. Forty-fifth floor."The elevator ride felt like it took forever. She watched the city drop away below her through the glass walls and tried to put her thoughts in order.Fact one: she had just been put on administrative leave.Fact two: she was about to take a job from the man she'd been hired to fight in court.Fact three: she had kissed that man in front of cameras last night and it had not felt like a mistake.That last fact was the one she kept

Isla's phone was making a sound like a fire alarm.She grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Fifty-one notifications. No, fifty-eight. The number kept climbing."Yeah." Jordan appeared in the doorway of his guest room, holding two mugs of coffee. "You're trending. Number two in New York."She'd made it to his apartment around two in the morning. He'd taken one look at her, smudged mascara, champagne-stained dress, shoes in her hand, and pointed wordlessly at the guest room. No questions. That was thirteen years of friendship.She sat up and took the coffee like a lifeline. "How bad?""Page Six says 'Jilted Lawyer Kisses Billionaire Enemy at Charity Gala." Jordan scrolled his phone. "Business Insider is going with 'Conflict of Interest Raises Questions About Donovan Merger Case.'" He made a face. "That one's going to sting.""Catherine.""Called six times. Her emails have the subject line: MY OFFICE. 8 AM. All caps."Isla's stomach tightened. She set down her coffee before she spilled

"You drink champagne like it owes you money."The voice came from behind her…deep, calm, quietly amused.Isla turned.She had read about Damien Cross for six months. She'd studied his business deals, his legal filings, his financial history. She thought she knew what to expect.She was not prepared for the actual man.He was tall, at least six-two, with dark hair going silver at the sides and eyes the color of storm clouds. He wore his tuxedo like he'd been born in it and was already bored of it. He held a glass of water, not champagne, and he was watching her with an expression that was somewhere between curious and careful."You're Damien Cross," she said."And you're Isla Bennett. The attorney trying to block my merger." One corner of his mouth moved. "Small world.""I've read every document you've ever filed.""I know. Your brief on the Donovan case was thorough." He plucked her empty glass from her hand and replaced it with his water. "Wrong in its conclusions, but the legal reas