Stella's POV
Grace looked even more stunning in person than she had at Rouge. Her elegant black dress emphasized her tall, slender figure, and her dark hair fell in perfect waves around a face that belonged in fashion magazines.
Of course she's here. Why wouldn't she be? She wouldn't miss any opportunity to be near Adam.
She turned as I approached, her expression brightening with practiced charm. "Ms. Winston! What a coincidence! I've only seen your photos, never met you in person. I hope I haven't mistaken you?"
"No mistake, Ms. Davis," I replied coolly.
Her smile widened, perfectly white teeth flashing. "Ms. Winston knows me? Did Adam mention me? Show you my pictures perhaps?"
"Adam?" I repeated, the casual use of his first name hitting me like a slap.
So she calls him Adam and I'm supposed to call him Mr. Lancaster in public? Fuck this.
"Oh, yes—Adam," she laughed lightly. "I've been his closest friend since childhood. Old habits die hard."
Closest friend. Since childhood. Each word drove the knife deeper.
"No," I managed, keeping my voice steady. "He's never mentioned you."
A flash of something—disappointment? irritation?—crossed her perfect features before she smiled again. "I suppose he's always been private about his past. I'm just here to return his coat."
She gestured to a shopping bag beside her. "He was kind enough to lend it to me when I was cold. Such a gentleman."
The black coat. The same one I'd seen her wearing at Rouge. She kept it for days, probably slept with it, and now she's making a special trip to return it personally.
"And you?" she asked, her head tilting slightly. "What brings you to the executive floor, Ms. Winston?"
"I'm here to see Mr. Lancaster about a business matter," I replied, emphasizing the formal address.
Before Grace could respond, Adam's secretary, Mia, appeared from around the corner. "Ms. Davis? Mr. Lancaster will see you now."
Mia stopped short when she noticed me. "Ms. Winston! I didn't realize you were here. Do you have an appointment with Mr. Lancaster as well?"
The pieces fell into place with painful clarity. Adam had time in his busy schedule for Grace—a pre-arranged meeting, in fact—while I had been planning to catch him between appointments.
Well, there's my answer. Clear as fucking day.
"No," I said, making an instant decision. "No appointment. I just wanted to drop something off."
I pulled the offer letter from my bag and handed it to Mia. "Please give this to Mr. Lancaster with my regrets. I appreciate the opportunity, but I must decline."
Mia's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure? This position was created specifically—"
"I'm sure," I cut her off, unwilling to hear how Adam had rearranged his company structure just to accommodate me. "Thank you."
I don't need his charity, especially when he's entertaining Grace.
I turned to leave, avoiding Grace's curious gaze.
"Ms. Winston," she called after me, "I hope we'll have a chance to get to know each other better. Any friend of Adam's is a friend of mine."
Friend? Is that what we're calling it?
I managed a tight smile without responding, walking briskly toward the elevator. Once inside, I pressed the lobby button and leaned against the wall, closing my eyes as the car descended.
This is a good thing, I told myself firmly. A wake-up call. A reminder not to get too comfortable, too attached.
Adam had a past—a past that included Grace, who was clearly intent on becoming his future as well. She knew him in ways I never would, had shared experiences I could never match.
Our arrangement had always been temporary. It was time I remembered that.
I was a fucking idiot for letting myself forget, even for a moment.
As the elevator reached the ground floor, I straightened my shoulders and composed my expression. This wasn't the first time I'd had to start over, to rebuild my defenses after letting them slip.
It won't be the last, I thought, walking purposefully toward the exit, but it might be the hardest.
Grace's POV
I watched Stella walk away, my eyes following her slender figure until she disappeared into the elevator.
The sound of the elevator doors closing snapped me back to reality. I turned to face Mia Wilson, Adam's personal secretary. I had known her for years—she had been his assistant even before I left for Europe.
"Ms. Wilson, if Mr. Lancaster is so busy, you should have let me reschedule for another day," I said calmly, glancing at Adam's office door.
Mia shook her head, checking something on her computer. "Mr. Lancaster is busy every day, but today is relatively open. He's actually quite efficient, but lately he's been arriving later than usual, so naturally his departure time gets pushed back as well."
I froze, caught off guard. "Later?"
"It's not exactly lateness," Mia continued typing, "he just reschedules his morning meetings, apparently to spend more time with Ms. Winston at home."
These words hit me like a physical blow. Adam—my Adam, the man who once fired an executive for arriving three minutes late to a board meeting—was adjusting his business schedule for *her*?
"I see," I managed to keep my voice steady, despite the sudden tightness in my chest. "Then I won't take up too much of his time."
*He reschedules meetings for her*. This thought kept repeating in my mind, each iteration more painful than the last. In all the years I'd known Adam, he had never adjusted his schedule for anyone—not for me, not for his father, not even for his brother.
But for Stella Winston, he changed his habits. What this meant sent a chill down my spine.
Mia's intercom buzzed. "Ms. Davis? Mr. Lancaster will see you now."
I nodded, smoothing my dress before walking toward Adam's office, my mind rapidly reassessing my strategy. The situation was far more serious than I had anticipated.
Adam's POV
I was reviewing the quarterly forecast reports when the door opened, revealing Grace in an elegant black dress. She had been back in New York for less than a week, and this was already her third attempt to see me.
"Grace?" I looked up, making no effort to hide my impatience.
She smiled, seemingly unaffected by my tone. "Adam, still busy? I won't take much of your time."
"What do you want?" I asked directly, putting down my pen.
She approached my desk, setting down a shopping bag. "Your jacket. I had it dry-cleaned. I know how particular you are about your clothes."
"I told you to keep it," I reminded her, not touching the bag.
Grace's smile remained fixed. "I thought you might be just being polite. Anyway, I've cleaned and returned it now." She sat down uninvited in the chair across from me. "Actually, Adam, I came today to ask when you might be free this week. I'd like to visit your brother's grave."
I stared at her for a moment. "This weekend," I answered, picking up my phone. "I'll have Taylor arrange it."
Grace looked pleased, leaning forward slightly. "Thank you. It's been too long since I paid my respects."
Before she could continue, the door opened again, and Taylor entered with a tablet in hand.
"Sir," he began, then suddenly stopped. "Ms. Davis?"
Grace turned, her smile genuine this time. "Taylor, it's been a while."
He nodded politely, then turned back to me. "Sir, security reports that they spotted Ms. Samantha at Rouge nightclub. Also, your wife did not leave the Winston residence at the time Mr. Winston claimed. According to our surveillance, she left before seven o'clock."
A cold sensation settled in my stomach. If Stella had left the Winston house early, and security had placed her at Rouge...
*It was her I saw looking down from the mezzanine. She saw me with Grace.*
"Anything else?" I asked Taylor, my mind quickly connecting all the dots.
"No, sir."
I suddenly stood up, grabbing my phone. "Taylor, see Ms. Davis out."
Grace looked surprised. "Adam, where are you going? We haven't finished our conversation."
"Another time," I replied, already heading for the door.
Mia appeared in the doorway, holding a familiar envelope. "Mr. Lancaster, this is the offer letter Ms. Winston just returned. She's declining the position."
I stopped in my tracks. "She was here? Just now?"
Mia nodded, looking nervous. "Yes, sir."
"Why wasn't she shown directly to my office?" My voice dangerously dropped.
"Well," Mia stammered, her eyes darting toward Grace, "possibly because she saw that Ms. Davis was waiting to see you, so she just..."
All the implications hit me at once. Stella had come to see me, seen Grace waiting for me, and left—right after returning the offer letter.
*Fuck.*
"Where did she go?" I asked Mia.
"She didn't say, sir. She just left."
I turned to Taylor. "Find out where she is. Now."
Taylor was already on his phone, nodding. "On it, sir."
I strode toward the elevator, leaving Grace still standing by my desk. I had to find Stella.