The Blackwood Blades legal offices occupied the entire 32nd floor of a downtown skyscraper. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered spectacular city views, but no one was admiring the scenery today.
Emma sat at the head of the conference table, laptop open, watching the clock tick toward three. Her father had "urgent business" elsewhere—his way of making clear that Nathan was now Emma's problem.
The door opened at exactly 3:00. Nathan entered wearing dark jeans and a charcoal button-down rather than the expected suit. A silent power move, Emma noted. Behind him came his agent, a silver-haired woman with sharp eyes, and a young man Emma recognized as the Stevensons' family lawyer.
"Mr. Stevenson, welcome," Emma said, standing to shake his hand.
Nathan took it briefly. His hand was warm and cal
