Morana's Point Of View
Seething.
That was the only word to describe what I felt as I sat at my desk, my fingers drumming against the polished wood with barely restrained irritation. The rhythmic clicking of my nails was the only thing stopping me from storming out of my office and hunting Sophia down like a lioness on the prowl.
I was already crafting different scenarios in my mind, most of which weren't exactly legal when a sharp knock at the door pulled me from my vengeful thoughts.
I exhaled sharply, straightening in my chair. "Come in."
The door creaked open, and one of the office assistants, a young woman with neatly pinned hair and wide brown eyes, stepped inside. Clutched tightly in her hands was a medium-sized package, wrapped so pristinely that it almost looked out of place in this corporate jungle.
"Ms. Sinclair," she said with a polite smile, "you have a delivery."
I blinked. "A delivery?"
She nodded, stepping forward to place it on my desk.
