Ethan was already seated, martini in hand. His suit was overly glossy. His watch was oversized and fake. His grin never touched his eyes.
He scanned me with open contempt.
“You look like a librarian,” he said. “Figures. You’ve always been background noise. Did you bring the car?”
“I took a cab,” I replied. “Who are we meeting?”
He ignored me, eyes lighting up as someone approached.
“Perfect timing,” he muttered.
I turned.
A woman strode toward us—tall, blonde, wrapped in a red designer dress worth more than my vehicle. Diamonds sparkled at her neck.
My stomach dropped.
That necklace looked painfully familiar.
It was identical to my grandmother’s pendant—the one that had mysteriously vanished from my jewelry box last month.
Ethan stood.
He didn’t introduce her.
He kissed her.
On the lips.
Slow. Deliberate. Possessive.
The room tilted.
“Amelia,” Ethan said casually, pulling her into the chair beside him. “This is Lauren. And we need you to review something.”
“Review… what?” I asked calmly.
He slid a thick manila envelope across the table. The salt shaker tipped, scattering white crystals across the linen.