m service cart squeaked soft

ifting the silver domes to reveal a crystal bowl o

the gold pen from his tray and signed Bowen Greene's name at th

rl spoon. She scooped a large mound of black eggs and placed them on her tong

om door r

a sharp, custom-tailored navy suit.

ar. The muscle in his jaw ticked so hard i

e slammed both hands down on the edge of the room service ca

She picked up the crystal champagne flute and took a slo

to yell, but a sharp bu

ne vibrated violentl

and pressed it to his

ny voice of his assistant, Arthu

ypassed the elevator's fire-service mode!" Arthur yelled over the line. Helen Mercer, the most vicious gossip reporter in the city,

ark eyes snapped away from the wall

. She raised an eyebrow, silentl

harsh, bitter laugh. He thought h

er right at her face.

g for time, of calling the press to expose them so she could

him for three

aughed. It was a loud, genuine laug

He thought she was laughing be

the stem of her champagne flute, a

d. Champagne spray

stantly. Her eyes narrowed

t she tilted her chin up and stared direct

stic," she said, her voice d

anted to blackmail you, I wouldn't need reporters.

ing. He took a quick, involuntary step backwa

uffing, using her perfect vocal control

he sound of heavy footsteps p

Aria's eyes. [Critical Event: NPC H

double doors beeped loudly. Someo

rs burs

nto the room. The rapid-fire clicking of

r eyes shut against the painful glare. Her brain

ugh the chaos, screaming questions a

ve, Bowen's body did somet