By the time the luncheon was over, Dominique thought that the other restaurant patrons may be able to see smoke coming out of her ears. She was livid. But she knew what François’s anger was about and new competition had nothing to do with it. Ever since the board and investors had chosen her name suggestion, Capricious, over his, Grand, he’d been upset. Dominique had thought at the time, Are you serious? Who’d ever know that a magazine called Grand was a fashion rag catering to the plus-size community? She wasn’t the one who’d called the idea stupid. That had been one of the other investors, a former model turned tycoon named Mirabelle. But Dominique had agreed with her. All these years later and François was obviously still smarting. As far as she was concerned, he needed to pull up his big boy britches and leave her the hell alone. She’d poured blood, sweat, and tears into this company. This was her baby and she wasn’t going anywhere!

Thirty minutes after leaving the restaurant, the frown hadn’t left Dominique’s face. She wheeled into her parking lot and strode purposely to the elevator. “Get me the sales figures for the last twelve months,” she barked at Reggie as soon as she reached the executive offices. “And the last six issues of the magazine.” She stormed past him and slammed her office door.

Dominique reached her desk and put her head in her hands. Just when she decides to loosen her professional reins and focus more on her personal life, here comes this asshole, trying to back her into a corner. Dominique knew that she was good at what she did. But she also knew that the magazine industry and the fashion world could be cutthroat. She’d have to dot every i and cross every t to make sure every argument that she may need in the coming weeks and months was sound.

Reggie gave a soft knock and then entered. He bore a look of concern as he placed the items Dominique had requested on her desk. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

Dominique sighed. “Sit down.” She gave him the short version of what had transpired at the luncheon.

“That bastard,” Reggie said, a scowl accompanying this declaration. “You work your butt off for this company. Capricious can stand toe-to-toe with any magazine out there. And Doo-doo Deux knows that!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dominique answered, shaking her head. “He’s out for blood, and I’m going to make sure that it’s not mine that gets splattered across the pages. Do I have any meetings this afternoon?”

Reggie shook his head. “But you do have that premiere tonight.”

“Oh, shoot. I forgot all about that. Reggie, would you like my tickets? I’m really not feeling the red carpet right now.”