Chapter 4: Rules, Rivalries, and Red Dresses

Leaving the conference room, Mariah squeezed up beside me, eyes wide. “Who is Savannah Pierce, really?”

Mariah’s voice was low, but her concern was obvious. She’d always had my back.

I shook my head—I didn’t know either. Harrison had never mentioned her.

I wracked my brain, but Savannah’s name had never come up. It was unlike Harrison to keep secrets from me.

Mariah sounded frustrated. “Look how she stands next to Mr. Whitmore. Anyone can tell she’s up to something.”

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “It’s like she owns the place already.”

“Mariah,” I said, trying to be fair, “We don’t know her yet. Maybe she really is outstanding. Let’s not judge before we know her.”

Mariah just shook her head, unconvinced.

She fell silent, then sighed, muttering, “You fool. I just don’t want you paving the way for someone else. Maybe Harrison asked you because you’re well-liked.”

She bumped my shoulder, softer now. “Just...watch your back, okay?”

She paused, unwilling to let it go, adding, “Did you offend her? Why does she keep staring at you?”

I stopped, glanced back. Savannah was still there. Through the crowd, our eyes met unexpectedly.

Her stare was sharp, unblinking—a predator sizing up prey. I shivered and quickly looked away.

She probably didn’t expect me to turn around. She was staring at my back, her gaze cold—like a venomous snake lurking in a summer crevice. But in a flash, she masked her expression and smiled at me.

Her smile was all teeth, no warmth. I forced myself to smile back, but my skin prickled.

As if I’d imagined it.

I turned back, silent.

Mariah nudged me, whispering, “Told you.” I just shrugged, not wanting to give her more to worry about.

Office gossip travels fast. Soon, I learned Savannah’s story.

It was all anyone could talk about. I heard snippets in the break room, at the copy machine, even in the elevator.

Supposedly, she once saved Harrison from a falling object, breaking her leg. Harrison felt guilty, visited her often in the hospital, and later discovered she came from a famous jewelry design family. When she recovered, he invited her to Whitmore & Co.

It sounded like something out of a soap opera. The more I heard, the less it made sense.

From their first meeting to her joining, at least three months passed, but Harrison never mentioned her to me.

It stung, realizing how much he’d kept from me. We’d always told each other everything—or so I thought.

Maybe I was busy with the competition, maybe he didn’t want me to worry, maybe he thought it unnecessary...

I tried to reassure myself, but unease crept in.

It was like a pebble in my shoe—small, but impossible to ignore.