Roxie Sterling

The heavy brushed-steel doors of the private elevator slid shut, sealing out the chaos of the plaza lobby. The flashing cameras and reporters’ shouts disappeared, replaced by the dim reflections of the mirrored walls as the elevator carried us toward the fiftieth floor.

My knees nearly gave out the moment we were alone.

I stumbled backward against the wall, my chest rising and falling beneath my charcoal blazer. The adrenaline that had kept me standing while facing Cole Miller was draining fast, leaving my limbs heavy and trembling. The memory of the warehouse, my mother’s debt, and the secrets we had fought to expose still clung to me....