Chapter 10 Hot Coffee & Cold Shoulders

Julian wasn’t sure what was worse—Miranda’s fondness for carrot juice smoothies or the board meeting he was currently trapped in. He tried to look engaged, nodding as someone droned on about market share like it was the key to immortality. Across the sleek glass table, Clara Bellamy sat with her arms crossed, legs elegantly tucked to the side, the very picture of composed disdain. She didn’t even look at him. She was too busy pretending not to glare at Miranda, who sat beside him like a Prada-wrapped python.