could do this. She’d thought long and hard about what she wanted and nothing, not even the infamous
Lucian Patras, would get in her way.
The revolving door of Patras Industries reflected the bright rays of sun peeking through the high-
rise buildings across the street. Scout’s sneakers moved silently over the polished marble of the lobby floors, and her thumb pressed with purpose into the smooth button of the elevator.
After keying in the floor, she waited, her empty belly doing a row of summersaults having nothing
to do with the rise of the lift, and everything to do with coming face-to-face with her past and finally having the balls to go after her future.
Cheeks puffed as she forced out a shaky breath, her clammy palms brushed over her blouse. “Your
terms, Scout. Don’t take any shit,” she whispered as the elevator eased to a stop.
The door chimed softly as it opened, and she stepped onto smooth burgundy carpet. She looked
nothing like she had the last time she was there. Her polished Mary Janes were humbled down to
rubber-soled, serviceable shoes. Absent was the lace that once adorned her legs. This was not a
mission of seduction, but an exercise in influence.
Same as before, she arrived at the reception desk with a deep hunger burning in her belly, but this
hunger was something much more potent than any form of lust. This was a hunger for well-deserved
recompense. No need to pretty herself up to get what she came for, what she deserved.
It might’ve taken her five days to figure out, but she finally understood. She held all the power. She
was no longer an outsider. She’d been on the other side of the looking glass and realized she very well could stand on her own two feet. It was only a matter of declaring her intentions and not backing
down. It was time to do for her.
“May I help you?” Seth, Lucian’s personal assistant greeted. He clearly didn’t recognize her, and
why would he? She’d only met Seth once, several months ago. She’d been dressed to the nines and
ready to seduce his boss. Without makeup she looked like a child. Her hair was pulled into a no-
nonsense ponytail, and her Clemons uniform was anything but flattering. She’d also dropped well over
ten pounds, which on a small frame like hers was not a welcome loss.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Patras.”
His eyes narrowed with rejection before he voiced his reply. “You need an appointment to meet
with Mr. Patras.”
“I’m sure I do not.” Insecurities rattled her confidence, but she kept her chin up and remained
polite. She had every right to be there. Convincing herself of such was step one. “Please tell him
Evelyn Keats is here to speak with him.”
Seth’s eyes bulged. “Ms. Keats, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Let me tell Mr. Patras you’re
here.”
That’s right!
He pressed a button on the intercom, and a tight shiver pinched her heart at the sound of Lucian’s
voice. “Yes?”
“Mr. Patras, Ms. Keats is here—”
It shouldn’t have been possible to get from his desk to the door in such a short span of time, but the
door to Lucian’s office whipped open and his muscular frame filled the doorway, stress marring his
expression and exhaustion weighing in his eyes.
Lips parted in obvious surprise, he stilled. “Evelyn.” His voice was a mere rasp of the self-assured
baritone he usually spoke with.
She nodded. “I came to talk—”
“Come into my office.”
Her lips twitched as he cut off her request. She wouldn’t let him obtain the upper hand. This was her show. She was there for a reason, and she couldn’t let her heart distract her. That foolish organ had
caused enough problems.
Aiming for poise, she nodded and carefully stepped past him. The office door shut with a sharp
snick. Her mind replayed the first time they’d met. Lucian had stood like a giant, a thin veneer of
control, masked in immeasurable power, seething behind her then, and he reminded her of the same
giant now. Her sneakered feet quickly stepped away.
When he faced her, she saw he was still speechless, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. “I need
to talk to you,” she said quickly.
“Where have you been?” he asked, his gaze filled with bewilderment as it traveled back and forth
from her feet to her face.
“That’s not your concern.”
“Evelyn.” He leveled her with a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for games. Neither was she.
There was no way she’d tell him she’d actually returned to sleeping on the streets, using her bag as
a pillow, a playground for shelter, and a McDonald’s for facilities. He’d see it as a weakness, and she couldn’t stomach his pity. Her pitiful circumstances were only temporary and tonight she’d be in a
bed once more, so long as she stuck to her plan and didn’t let him intimidate or bully her.
Steeling herself, she met his gaze. “Lucian, I came to talk about other issues, not where I’m living.”