THE ICE IN THE PEARL EMBERS

Inside the penthouse suite of the Vance Tower, Victoria stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror, wrapped in a thick white cashmere robe.

Her hair was dry, but her face was pale, her right cheek still faintly red from Elena's strike. On the velvet sofa behind her sat Julian Vance, holding a glass of Scotch.

At fifty-two, Julian was a man carved from cold obsidian. His dark hair was silvered at the temples, his posture rigid, his eyes calculating.

"You let a waitress slap you in front of the entire board of governors?" Julian said, his voice dropping into a flat, deadly register that held no affection, no warmth.

"She attacked me, Julian!" Victoria shrieked, spinning around, her silk belt flapping. "Her brat was stealing! I was enforcing order! The security guards did nothing! The entire staff walked out!"

Julian took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window overlooking the glowing city skyline. "The entire banquet was ruined. Mayor Hayes left before the appetizers. The press is already asking questions about the labor walkout."

"I want her arrested!" Victoria demanded, stomping her foot on the rug. "I want her in a cell by morning! And I want that child placed in state custody!"

Julian pulled his phone from his blazer pocket, tapping the screen. A high-definition security feed from the hotel’s banquet hall began to play. He zoomed in on the face of the waitress holding the silver pitcher.

Julian’s thumb froze on the glass screen.

The color slowly drained from his face as he stared at the frozen image of Elena's eyes—the sharp, lethal gaze he hadn't seen in seven years.