but resolutely through the heavy glass

oved perfectly with her measured strides. Her sleek, flat loafers mov

out the large leather chair at the head of the long mahogany

ant, Marcus, were already sitting

nsive suit and the rigid, almost unnatural perfection of her posture.

is arms over his chest. He was waiting

hrob at the base of her spine, she opened her slim lea

it hard. The paper slid across the smooth, polishe

the sliding document with his hand and

scanned the text. It was a formal declaration

'Alimony Settlement'. The number print

s the table at her. He was absolutely cert

chological games," Courtland s

c fountain pen. She uncapped it, leaned forward carefully, and signed

e table. She tapped her index finger o

o sorrow, no lingering attachment. His chest suddenly fe

comfortable irritation washed over him. Th

Sir," Marcus whispered, his voice low. "Legally,

the pen off the table. He pressed the nib down ha

d. He pulled the document away from Court

nts. She reached down and buttoned the center

tood up. He reached into the inside pocket of

onto the wooden table. The number wr

e was loud, dripping with condescending pi

her head and looked down at the rectang

x and middle fingers to pinch the edge

nt, arrogant smile. He was sure she had fi

bbed the other side with her left hand and ri

her fingers. They fluttered down and landed

hed instantly. His skin flushed dar

e same measured, rigid grace without looking back, leaving Courtla