It was Sandra.


    And sitting across from her wasn''t some blind date. It was Quennel.


    The sight of Quennel''s face made Hannah freeze. As far as she knew, Quennel and Sandra barely knew each other. They''d never had much contact. So why were they having lunch together now?


    A sense of dread washed over her. She knew Sandra''s methods all too well-the way she could quietly steal away your friends, turning them against you until they believed her every word.


    Lionel was proof of that.


    Could it be? Now that Lionel was angry with her, was Sandra shifting her sights to Quennel? Was she nning to manipte him the same way she had Lionel?


    Hannah''s hands clenched into fists, her breathing suddenly shallow.


    "Hannah? What''s wrong?" Samuel had followed the hostess a few steps before realizing Hannah wasn''t behind him. He walked back to her side.


    Hannah snapped back to the present, forcing her gaze away from their table. "It''s nothing. Let''s go," she said, her lips pressed into a thin line.


    If Quennel was really going to fall for Sandra''s act and turn against her like Lionel had, then... there was nothing she could do. It was his choice.


    After they were seated, Hannah picked up the menu just as Quennel started walking toward their table.


    "Que... Mr. Rosenberg," Hannah corrected herself hastily, almost calling him by his first name.


    "Mr. Rosenberg. Good to see you," Samuel greeted him without a hint of surprise.


    "What a coincidence. I just finished


    vel


    my meal," Quennel replied with a nod, his eyes briefly meeting Hannah''s before he turned his attention back to Samuel. Acknowledging their marriage. publicly would only cause problems for her. "I heard your Uncle Peter is back in the country. When you have a moment, could you let him know the Rosenberg Group has a few new projects he might be interested in?"


    "Of course, Mr. Rosenberg. My uncle was just talking about you yesterday, actually. He asked why I didn''t go work for you to begin with. I told him I just wanted to find a ce to coast for a while."


    Hannah, listening from across the table, was taken aback. She''d heard rumors from coworkers that Samuel was a rich kid who''d run away from his family business, but she''d e always assumed they were joking, He was far too dedicated to his work to be just "coasting."


    "My door is always open if you change your mind," Quennel said, casting a meaningful nce at Hannah before his eyes moved away again. "Well, I won''t disturb your lunch."


    Samuel nodded as Quennel walked


    away, then immediately leaned


    across the table. "Don''t you think Mr.


    Quennel Rosenberg ispletely different from his brother? he


    Whispered. "I don''t know, I just get the feeling he''s like a fox. Really cunning. You know?"


    "Oh?"


    A fox? Quennel? She''d never heard anyone describe him that way.


    Samuel crossed his arms and leaned back, tilting his head in thought. "You probably haven''t been around him much, but that''s the vibe I get."


    "So, Mr. Temple really is just here to get a taste of life as amoner, then?" Hannah teased, deftly changing the subject. "Was it your Uncle Peter who had you ask me those questions this morning?"


    Samuel sat bolt upright, his casual demeanor vanishing. "No, no, absolutely not!" he insisted, shaking his head vigorously.


    "Alright," she said, turning her attention back to the menu. "Let''s order."


    Samuel rubbed his nose awkwardly. He should have known that asking about something so personal wouldn''t be simple.