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more than he could handle.

    “I don’t even know what you do exactly.”

    “Real estate. I try to put together land and development deals. It’s really boring, John.”

    Okay, so it was a little white lie.

    “Can I pick you up Saturday? You can’t come all the way here. We’ll go out in your neck of the woods. Give me your address, and I’ll come get you.”

    “My apartment is undergoing renovation. Why don’t we meet here? I liked it. And it looked like a nice dinner menu.”

    “You sure? It’s not too fancy.”

    “I’m more interested in you than being taken to some ridiculously overpriced place.” Where I might run into Rubi Cho anyway!

    “All right, angel eyes.” He kissed her again, and they stood on the street holding each other for a few minutes. Then he hailed her a cab.

    After he had shut the door and the cab pulled away, Maddie gave the driver her address. She was still out of breath and turned on. Then her cooler head prevailed. She pulled out her cell phone. She’d had seventeen calls. She started returning them, and then, rather than going home after all, she told the driver to drop her off at the office. It was time for a pot of coffee and a very late night.

Chapter 6

    T he office was quiet. Of course, there was plenty of security to get inside the building, let alone the elevator. Still though ordinarily she loved the quiet, tonight it gave her the creeps. She walked silent halls, only the distant whirring of the cleaning crews vacuuming providing any noise.
    A few lights in cubicles told her some staff remained. Madison sort of wished chatty Mike Kelly was still at work—he was the department’s one-man entertainment unit. But he was in L.A. on business. She’d feel a lot better when Troy officially started on Wednesday.

    Maddie settled into her office. She picked up her telephone. Forty-nine voice mails. Forty-nine! She decided voice-and e-mail were the bane of her existence. She began listening. There was a sweet message from Ryan Greene extending his condolences on Claire. Two messages from Claire’s mother saying she wanted Madison to have a few of Claire’s things. And a message from Charlie checking on her. One from Marcus—same thing. Knowing them, they’d keep calling until she checked in, so she called each of them and said she was working late and would be fine.

    She worked for an hour, barely glancing up. Then, after a while, she felt this nagging idea. Who was going to clean out Claire’s office?

    She rose from her desk and crept down the hall. Feeling guilty for sneaking around, she then berated herself internally. You head this company, Madison. Get a grip. You owe it to your shareholders to go look around.

    Madison walked more purposefully through the empty hallways to the elevators and took an elevator two flights down to the legal department. She walked to Claire’s office, trembling for a minute at the sight of her friend’s name on the brass plaque. Maddie still couldn’t believe she was gone.

    She opened the door and turned on the lights. Claire’s office was a reflection of who she’d been. She collected Steuben-glass pieces, which she displayed in a glass cabinet in the corner of her office. On the walls hung reproductions of Degas paintings—Claire had been a ballerina, training for years until a knee injury forced her to rethink her plans for college and life.

    Madison felt as if she was walking into a shrine. She walked around the office, remembering lunches when they sat at Claire’s conference table and ate delivered sushi or delectable pastas from one of their favorite restaurants. Whether poring over real-estate contracts or laughing over a rare night together on the town, they could read each other’s thoughts—more like sisters than friends.

    She strode over to Claire’s file cabinets. They were locked, of course. She knew the police had poked around and tried to seize Claire’s laptop—but Pruitt’s lawyers had given them a