Aveline walked the corridor with the kind of practiced grace that made men's heads turn and women's eyes narrow. She wasn't in a rush, no, she let her heels click softly against the polished marble floors, savoring every step like a queen in her court.
In her hand, a slim file folder, one she didn't need to be delivering, not to Ethan Anderson's office anyway. But she had made a detour, charming another junior associate into giving it to her under the pretense of doing them a favor.
The real favor was for herself.
As she neared his office, the glass walls of the executive suite came into view, and there he was. Ethan. Sharp. Collected. Disarmingly handsome in a way that pissed her off, because no man had any right looking like that and not notice her, they always do.
