e bullpen like a stone in a quiet pond. "Mr. Sinclair

ubicles. David Tucker's face twisted into an ugly

ith insinuation. "I have to hand it to you. Didn't tak

disgusting. Clarice's blood ran cold, b

you have a problem with Mr. Sinclair's decision, David, I suggest you take i

rough his bluster. He stood there, speec

aid, walking over with a warm, genuine smi

ve her a g

late forties with a no-nonsense air, had been with the Sinclair Group for over a decade. She led Cl

her tone serious. "Mr. Sinclair's preferences, his schedule templa

The level of deta

is schedule is planned in five-minute increments. He

d. This was the challenge she wanted, the kind

xpression softened slightly, becoming more persona

first assistant he's chosen himself since taking ove

tiffened. She knew

"Mr. Sinclair is married. Whatever you do, do not develop any foolish fantasies about him. He is c

Clarice was stunned, not by the warning it

clair was

was married. Strangely, this piece of n

ou for the advice, Ms. Jennings. I assu

nswer, giving a curt nod before l

a deep breath and began to organize the binder, forcing herself to push a

opened. Nolan Sinclair strode

mics. On my desk in five minutes," he co

r," she replied,

, finding the correct files, and compiling a neat, summarize

e document she'd prepared. A flicker of approval, so faint i

ce had been a sound one. She was competent. And now that she kn