"Lyman, I need an iced Americano. Stat." Annabel rubbed her temples, her voice edged with exhaustion.


    Out of nowhere, she felt the unmistakable burn of someone''s gaze. She looked up -and locked eyes with Fenton, whose stare was as dark and unreadable as ever.


    Annabel froze, muttering under her breath, "Shit."


    "This isn''t a coffee shop, you know." Fenton''s voice was dry.


    Annabel snorted and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "And what''s it to you? I''m here to grab a coffee with my brother. Problem?"


    "Wouldn''t dare," Fenton shot back, jaw clenched. "After all, you''re the princess around here.” His eyes bored into Annabel, as if he might devour her whole if she said one wrong word.


    Annabel refused to back down. She red right back at him. "That''s right. I''m definitely better off than you, wage ve."


    She spun on her heel. "What a buzzkill."


    Fenton called after her, "Funny, guilty people always seem to be in a hurry."


    Annabel stopped dead, whipping around so fast her re could have cut ss. "If anyone here has a guilty conscience, it''s you."


    Fenton''s eyes narrowed. "Say that again?"


    "I''d love to." Annabel grabbed the ashtray from the coffee table, brandishing it.


    Isabel jumped in, desperate to y peacemaker. "Annabel, don''t. Don''t let your temper get the best of you."


    "Quiet." Lyman''s voice was sharp as he shot Isabel a look. Then he turned to Fenton. "You too. Enough."


    Fenton shrugged. "Only because you asked."


    Annabel tossed her hair. "Yeah, same here."


    She sighed. "This ce is dead. I''m leaving."


    "Hold on," Lyman called after her. "Why are you even here today?"


    Annabel stopped again, cursing Fenton for making her almost forget her real reason foring. "I


    brought Isabel to shoot an ad foet


    your jewelry line. Family business stays in the family, remember? We talked about this.”


    Lyman nodded, indifferent. Isabel''s look was on-brand and her poprity was rising. As the new face for The Etheridge Group, she was a decent enough choice.


    She hadn''t been their first pick, but since Isabel was signed to Annabel''spany, the logic was simple: keep the benefits close.


    But the details of the shoot weren''t Lyman''s responsibility. He just made the call- no one told him they wereing today.


    "Where''s Effie?" Annabel pressed.


    "At work. Her department." Lyman didn''t even look up.


    "I miss her. I''ll go find her," Annabel said quickly, eager for an excuse to escape.


    She slipped out the door before anyone could stop her.


    Isabel, on the other hand, was in no rush to leave. This was her chance to spend time with Lyman, and she wasn''t about to waste it.


    "Lyman, would you mind if I stay


    here for a bit? I barely sleptst night


    and I''ve been running from one


    shoot to another. I''m


    exhausted-just need to rest for a


    white." Her eyes were hopeful.


    "Fine. You can use the couch." It was as much hospitality as he could muster.


    Isabel knew better than to ask for more. Lyman''s reputation for being a neat freak was practically legendary; there was no way he''d let her near his private lounge.


    She curled up on the sofa and closed her eyes.


    Lyman and Fenton went right back to their meeting, paying her no attention.


    Isabel couldn''t help but smile to herself. Soon, she''d find an excuse to get Lyman alone-maybe y up how nervous she was about the shoot and ask him toe along.


    With her n set, Isabel let herself rx, sinking deeper into the cushions until, before she knew it, she''d drifted off.


    Meanwhile, Effie was busy at her desk when someone popped their head in to say she had a visitor. Puzzled, she hurried out to see who it was.