MADAME BROWNE'S POV I sat at the balcony sipping wine from the tall wine glass framed in between my fingers. The soft berry like tinge in the wine stung my tongue as I tasted it. Everything was going smoothly, my plan was working perfectly now and nothing could stop me from reigning over the forthcoming event Ella was going to host.I'd told Genevieve to leave whatever she was doing at her office to come address the issue of the list. I didn't expect Ella to be smart enough to crosscheck the information given on the list, I had expected things her to wait for the event to pull closer before placing the booking like the fool she was.But either ways, I still had everything in control and that was all that mattered. The sunlight from the sun poured down from the open heavens basking my figure in in the golden brown hue of the evening sun. I tapped the glass before raising it to catch the glow of the setting sun. I was enjoying this, the cold air blowing gently against my flesh, the wi
MISS GENEVIEVE'S POV "I give you 24 hours to have the event under my control or else!" Her breath fanned my face. My body revolved in harsh pain as I was pressed against the hard wall by Madame Browne's cold grip. Her hands gripped my neck and pressed it hard enough to squeeze the living day light out of me. I tried to fight it, to pull her hands off but her grip was just too hard and my breath was coming out in muffled puffs.I choked on a breath as I coughed. "Or else I'll have your firm close and make you go back to being the penniless grocery worker you once were 3 years ago." She threatened before yanking off her hand from my neck.The world stood still for a split second as I watched her swivel before stepping out of the room. Before stepping out, she flashed a side way glance at me and with that she stepped out of the room.I gripped my chest as I heaved a relieved sigh, the heat from the sudden collision of my body sent me into a frantic state of panick. I panted, my heart b
Miss Genevieve's POVThe voice of Madame Browne still echoed in my head, like some ringing bell that would never stop. "You've got 24 hours, Genevieve. If this event isn't back in our hands, I'll make sure you regret ever owing me." It sent shivers down my spine, but not because of fear-because of rage. How dare Ella think she could relieve me? Me, Miss Genevieve, from that assistant role she was so desperately unfit for in the first place? The audacity. I gritted my teeth and clutched the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking with the pressure of my hands.I hated Ella Rocci. That little nurse didn't know who she was dealing with. She thought that firing me would get rid of me? Oh, sweetheart, you just threw the first punch. Now it's my turn.I pulled my car into the parking lot of a small, grimy coffee shop that sat on the corner of a street most people would avoid. It was just the place for the kind of conversation I needed to have. Sliding my sunglasses on, I stepped out, t
ELLA'S POVMadame Browne lingered in my mind— like some unwanted guest. If she was plotting-and, really, she was plotting-could I honestly hope to get away with this event? What was intended to be a subdued celebration of the president's birthday had now, within Madame Browne's realm, even simplicity wearing the robes of a trap.I ran my fingers through my hair, pacing in the room as unease gnawed at me. I'd already caught her meddling once. What else did she plan?The third time that morning, the thought crossed my mind to call Xavier. He was still on his trip, but I hoped maybe-hearing his voice-would steady me. I leaned over and reached for my phone on the nightstand, dialing his number as my pulse sped up. It rang once, twice, and then beeped, going straight to his assistant.I swore under my breath. "Of course," I muttered to myself, trying not to let the frustration bleed into my voice. Xavier was busy. But still, it kinda stung a little. Left to battle this storm alone, a ship
STONE'S POVI leaned against my motorcycle, my gaze fixed on the McKinney estate. She'd stepped out of the front door just minutes ago, head held high, trying to look unbothered. But I knew better. I'd seen that kind of nervous energy a hundred times before.Ella Rocci. The woman who thought she could stand up to people far more dangerous than her.I watched her climb into the car. She hadn't noticed me-most people never did until it was too late. I swung my leg over the bike, the engine rumbling low beneath me, and followed from a safe distance, weaving through traffic with ease.She wasn't going very far. The florist. Of course. I smirked to myself under my helmet. Miss Genevieve had been right-Ella wasn't just a thorn in Madame Browne's side, she was dangerously obstinate. But no amount of determination was going to save her from what was coming.I parked a block away from the vendor's shop, keeping to the shadows as I watched her step inside. She was easy to track-too easy. A woma
GENEVIEVE'S PERSPECTIVEBut Madame Browne's words echoed in my mind. I stepped out of the office, and every word inscribed its place with unuttered threat. "Close the deal, Genevieve. Once and for all this time. No room this time for mistakes.".I adjusted my coat, the soft material brushing against my skin as I walked to the elevator. The metallic doors opened with a quiet hiss, and I stepped inside, jabbing the button for the ground floor. As the elevator hummed softly, my fingers drummed a rhythmic beat against my clutch. I hated loose ends, and Ella Rocci was the most annoying loose end I'd ever encountered.The elevator dinged, and I stepped out into the lobby of my firm. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath cold lights, and the air held a faint scent of disinfectant. My heels clicked sharply as I crossed the lobby, drawing curious glances from employees who had grown accustomed to seeing me leave on personal errands. I was a woman with a mission, and they all knew better than
MISS GENEVIEVE'S POVThe door closed behind me, and I was taken down a very dimly lit hallway by the receptionist. She walked at a rapid pace, her hands fidgeting at her sides as if she knew she'd made a horrific mistake by letting me past. Maybe she had. That was probably beside the point at this stage. Everyone's got a price-just hers happened to be set low enough that I could pay it.She walked over to a door that had a sign on it, which read "Manager" and stepped aside, her voice soft. "He is in there. I will go let him know you are here.""No need," I said brusquely and pushed past her to open the door myself, not waiting for an invitation.The manager was distracted, looking up at the neat stack of papers on his desk. Probably middle-aged, around the mid-fifties at most, with a receding hairline and eyes which sized everything in terms of potential profitability, I knew I could expect him to be no less a man who wouldn't go for threats but would bow over at the right incentive.
ELLA'S POVThe morning air was cool as I trudged back to the planner's office, the load of today's tasks weighing heavily on me. Or so I thought I had picked out the perfect vendor. But something nagged at me, an annoying unease I couldn't just push aside.The planner, Sandra, had seemed perfectly professional when we first met, but today I felt tiny things were off. Her smile was different-too tight. Her gaze flickered away a lot more than it had previously, almost as if she didn't want to make eye contact. I told myself that was probably nothing. Just nerves. Big events tended to make people jittery, even seasoned vendors like her.Yet, I could not help but wonder if Madame Browne had already started her meddling. I really would not put it past her to throw a spanner in my works the moment I was getting too comfortable. She'd made her displeasure known, subtly attempting to corner me at every turn. Slip once, and she'd make sure I fell hard.I took a deep breath in and squared my sh