By Thursday afternoon, the slow, agonizing crawl of the week had finally started to pick up speed.
Three days. Just seventy-two hours left until William's plane touched back down in New York, and the anticipation was practically a physical hum beneath my skin.
With the Sterling contract officially signed and locked away in Dubai, my desk workload had dwindled to a gentle murmur. I was sitting at my computer, typing out a routine confirmation email for a board meeting scheduled for the following month, when the soft, distinct chime of the executive elevator echoed through the quiet lobby.
I looked up, expecting to see Julian returning from his lunch meeting, or perhaps a courier with a stack of documents.
Instead, a woman stepped out onto the polished marble floor.
