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glare, so she let her gaze drift away, spinning around the room,

taking in the collection of artwork and artifacts in little glass

cases on shelves. The bookcase to her left had ancient-looking

books on it, but their spines were as immaculate as if they’d

been created just last week. If she had things like this in her

office, what did Giana Thompson have in her home, in her

personal collection?

Coralyn didn’t wait for Giana to tell her to sit. She didn’t

want to be dismissed either, and she thought that maybe taking

one of the chairs in front of the huge desk would help her case.

Giana didn’t sit after she did. She remained standing, her arms

crossed, towering over Coralyn like a goddess. Coralyn was

entirely out of her depth. She felt small, shrunken down, like

she was nothing next to this powerful woman.

There was no warmth in her eyes. She was cold. Colder than

the frigid day Coralyn had just trudged through to get here.

Coralyn tore her gaze away and focused on her hands,

unable to look into Giana’s frigid expression any longer. If she

didn’t ask for what she’d come for now, she was afraid she’d

burst out of the chair and leave, hot tears cascading down her

cheeks as she raced through the hallways, back to the

reception area, where Jocelyn would no doubt notice, her

humiliation would be complete.

“I came to ask you about the necklace you purchased from

my father. I know that I’m not supposed to contact you, but

he’s sick. My dad. He’s dying. He probably doesn’t have more

than a few days and he just keeps asking me about the

necklace. It’s his dying wish that I get it back. I’m not asking

for that, obviously. I could never have enough money to buy it

back. I just know that people sometimes rent out jewelry, and I