Ethan
I didn't see Preston at the gala, though I understood now, in hindsight, that his absence should have worried me more than his presence would have. Men like Preston rarely showed their hand directly. They waited in the spaces where no one thought to look for them.
The message from William arrived at seven the following morning, three words that told me everything I needed to know about the kind of day ahead of me. My office. Now.
I found him standing behind his desk when I arrived, a tablet in his hand, his expression harder than I'd seen it since the day he'd first questioned my judgment regarding the Ashford account. He turned the screen toward me without a word.
The gossip column had gone live at five that morning, timed, I suspected, for maximum damage before the business day
