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right? And has been for a while? Look at the coffee table.”
    Needless to say, I hadn’t noticed the furnishings on first glance. Now I see that she’s right. A copy of the London-based
Financial Times
is on the table, along with a magazine called
London Today
that looks like an in-house hotel publication.
    “Like I said,” Jamie says, “you need to tell Damien.
Go
.”
    I do, but not before giving her a hug and telling her to break a leg at her audition.
    Then I’m out the door, shouting to Mrs. Crane that I won’t be back until tomorrow.
    As I race to my car, I think about the cupcake and the message that sent me to it:
what is sweeter than Love?
    I sigh. This isn’t the day I expected, not by a long shot. But at least I’m heading toward Damien. And with him at my side, I know I can handle whatever is coming.

Chapter 4
    I race downtown in Cooper, my still new Mini Cooper, and ignore the parking garage in favor of the valet parking service in front of Stark Tower. I toss the valet my keys, then race inside.
    Joe waves from his perch behind the information desk. “Good to see you, Mrs. Stark.”
    “Hi, Joe, sorry, Joe. In a hurry!” I jab my finger on the button, then rush up to the nineteenth floor and the reception area for Stark Applied Technology.
    As soon as I walk off the elevator, I see Preston Rhodes step out of the closest conference room.
    “Nikki,” Preston says. “Good to see you. I was just telling Lisa we need to have you two over for drinks so we can hear all about Paris.”
    “We’d love that,” I say. “But right now, I really need to talk to Damien. Do you mind if I borrow him for a few minutes?”
    His mouth quirks with irony. “I’d like to borrow him myself.”
    I frown, confused. “I thought he was in meetings with you all day.”
    “That was the plan. Apparently something came up.” He tilts his head back, as if looking to heaven. “He said he was going to the apartment. Something he had to take care of.”
    I feel an unpleasant twisting in my stomach, but tell myself I’m being foolish. Damien handles a dozen crises a day. There’s no reason to think that my crisis has already exploded.
    I use my card key to call Damien’s private elevator to take me to the top floor, which is divided between Damien’s penthouse office space and his downtown residence. As soon as the car arrives, I press the button to indicate my destination, ensuring that the elevator doors open onto the apartment side.
    It whisks me upward, and I hold on to the rail for both balance and support. Because despite my stern admonition to remain calm, the higher we rise, the more my nerves are fluttering.
    I hear voices the moment I step into the foyer. Damien’s, clipped and curt. And another voice, softer but agitated. A woman, perhaps?
    It’s hard for me to tell, but I’m not wasting time playing guessing games. I pass the flower arrangement that never seems to wilt, then step into the living room.
    I expect the familiar furniture. The vase with a crystal red rose. Damien’s science and business magazines scattered across the coffee table. And, of course, I expect to see the man himself.
    I do not expect to see Carmela D’Amato, and when I do it is immediately as if she is the only thing I
can
see.
    Suddenly, I realize what I should have known all along—bitch from hell Carmela has teamed up with uber-bitch Sofia to screw with me and Damien.
    Well, fuck
that
.
    As I rush toward Carmela, I vaguely hear Damien calling my name, but it’s like white noise behind the sound of blood rushing through my head. It’s not until my hand has lashed out and slapped her soundly across the cheek that the world snaps back into focus and my legs go weak.
    I’m falling to the ground, but I feel Damien’s arms go around me. As always, he is there to catch me when I fall.
    “Do you know what she’s done?” I snarl. “What she’s sent?”
    He is behind me, so I cannot see his face. But Carmela is in front of me,