The very first day after my rebirth, I'd sent Brett to track her down. The debts from my past life weren't something I could let slide.
That woman moved fast, though. She'd already reconnected with old enemies, and paparazzi had caught her draped across the lap of some trust-fund heir from Hartford, dressed in next to nothing.
Honestly, I almost admired her nerve.
That particular young man was infamous for his creative cruelty, volatile and unpredictable.
But Lucy Stephens would do whatever it took to climb. No line she wouldn't cross.
The next morning, I'd just finished a run in my private gym when Brett appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Henson, Mr. Farley is here. He's waiting in the reception room."
I grabbed a towel and blotted the sweat from my neck. My eyes cooled.
That was fast.
Sylvester stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing a simple white shirt tucked into black trousers. Gone was the cutting edge he usually carried. In its place was something softer, almost gentlemanly.
The moment he heard footsteps, he turned. His fingers curled at his sides, an unconscious tell.
No trace of yesterday's man who'd pressed a gun to his own temple. Right now, he looked almost... cautious.