Diana was leaning across the white velvet sectional, frantically whispering to Bella. The two of them were huddled over the glass coffee table, staring at the physical copy of Bella's employment contract like it was a sacred, protective talisman.
"When he walks out of that elevator, you do not speak," Diana hissed, her manicured finger tapping the paper. "You let me do the talking. I am his sister. He will be angry about the security breach, yes, but I know how to handle him. Just keep your head down and look useful."
Bella nodded rapidly, chewing on her lower lip.
"Are you sure he won't just throw me out?" Bella whispered, wringing her hands.
"Aria is an idiot who thinks a marriage license makes her royalty," Diana scoffed, cutting her off. "She doesn't know him like I do."
Squeeeeak. Thump. Squeeeeak.
Diana and Bella snapped their heads up.
Aria had emerged from the master suite. She was freshly scrubbed, glowing, and dressed in a pair of oversized, baby-pink silk pajamas.
