Chapter 15

Liliana snatched the file from the desk and shoved it into Sylvia's arms. Then, she took out her phone and snapped a couple of photos.

"It's in your hands now, Ms. Woods," she said, her voice flat. "If anything happens to it, it's not my problem."

She felt utterly defeated. There was no point in fighting a battle she had already lost. The favored one always wins. In Cedric's eyes, she was nothing.

A chill spread through her as she walked out of the office. Even when she was back on the street, bathed in the warmth of the sun, the coldness inside her wouldn't go away. A bitter, ironic smile touched her lips. So, the hotel room wasn't a one-time thing. His office was their regular spot. She shouldn't have been surprised, but seeing the evidence with her own eyes was a fresh wave of agony, more intense and soul-crushing than anything she had felt before.

Her phone rang, pulling her from her daze. It was her father, Chuck Preston. "Liliana, I need you to come home right now." His tone left no room for argument.

She had the afternoon free. It was better than sitting around stewing in her misery. "Okay, I'm on my way."

Cedric hadn't postponed the meeting after all. He'd moved it up. Making Liliana wait, he decided, would be far more effective at curbing her arrogance. The meeting, which should have taken less than an hour, he dragged out for two.

When it finally ended, it was lunchtime. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then walked unhurriedly back to his office.

"Mr. Forrest, I have a report that needs your signature," the head of finance said, rushing to catch up.

Timothy intercepted him. "Can't you wait? The president has important matters to attend to. Submit it this afternoon."

The manager looked disappointed and turned to go. Cedric stopped him—a rare gesture. "It's not like we're in a race," he said, taking the report and signing it.

He was imagining the pathetic, tear-streaked face Liliana would have by now. As long as she wasn't crying. He hated it when women cried.

He was in complete control.

He pushed open his office door, his expression deliberately indifferent. The office was empty. He scanned the room, a frown creasing his brow. There was nowhere to hide. She was gone.

A faint noise came from the lounge, and he strode toward it, annoyed. Had she really made herself at home in his private space? He had been so

stressed lately that bed b Deen so

drinking there she sew the

empty bottles...

"Cedric." Sylvia emerged from the lounge, looking surprised at his dark expression. "What's wrong?"

His hand, reaching for the door, stopped inches from her chest. He quickly retracted it. "Nothing. What are you doing in there?"

"Just trying to maintain your image,"

she said with a bright smile. "You have a press conference this afternoon, so I sent your suit out to be cleaned and had someone tidy up the founge. You need to take better care of yourself. The company and I are counting on you."

"When did you get here? Was anyone in the office?" Cedric asked.