Riley’s POVIf there was one thing I’d learned in the past few weeks, it was this: never walk into a room looking like the wounded party. Especially when you’re still trying to figure out who’s actually on your side.So I put on my sleekest pair of trousers, a tucked-in blouse that said “professional but not trying too hard,” and tied my hair up like I meant business.Leo’s office was in a gleaming high-rise downtown, all exposed brick and soft lighting, like the interior was trying to convince you it wasn’t part of the cold, ruthless machine of the corporate tennis world. The receptionist smiled when she saw me.“Mr. Carter expecting you. You can go right in.”Of course he was.Leo looked up from his desk as I entered, smiling in that easy, charming way that made you forget he’d once threatened to hire you just to steal you from someone else. His sleeves were rolled up, and he stood the moment I stepped in.“Riley,” he said. “Glad you came.”“Still thinking about the offer,” I said a
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