How did so many years of preparation and worry and love mean so little? She was making her own choices and going down a disastrous road. These new friends of hers smoked pot and skipped school. Did she actually believe I’d allow her to travel cross-country in a broken-down RV with delinquent strangers? This was the group she chose to hang out with?

Not on my watch. I’d die before I let her go.

My fingers trembled around the stem of the glass. Instead of being contrite and crying as she begged for forgiveness, she’d blamed me. Where had the hate come from? We hadn’t even had a blowout fight in the past year. I deliberately backed off to allow her space to grow and find her own way. Tried to give her privacy instead of being one of those pushy, nosy moms.

Look what that had done. She’d gotten worse with the freedom and now I had to get a handle on it.

I rubbed my temples, head throbbing, and downed the glass of wine. I had to deal with this presentation tomorrow and then I’d handle Allegra. Once I snagged the account, I’d take some time off and concentrate on what she needed and how I could fix this. Maybe get her a therapist. I’d mentioned one to her before, but she’d scowled at my suggestion and refused. This time, I’d insist. Did she need antianxiety drugs? Was peer pressure getting to her?

The questions whirled through my overtaxed brain.

Just one more lousy day until it was time to dazzle and close a big win for my team.

I could do it.

I headed up to bed.

*   *   *

The next morning, my team gathered in the war room to go over last-minute details before the presentation. I’d dressed in my favorite lucky suit—a smart, sleek black pin-striped Michael Kors number that both was stylish and projected confidence. Kate looked polished in slate gray, the feminine ruffles on her blouse a delicate touch by Vera Wang. And Layla sported a Donna Karan pantsuit in rich cream, her dark skin a gorgeous sheen against the pearl. Adam exuded enthusiastic energy and was dressed in a classic Calvin Klein with a narrow cut in a muted navy with a red tie.

I sipped some water, forgoing my usual coffee, and tried to get into the zone. I was much more nervous than normal—my heart beating at a more rapid pace than I was used to—and I needed to reflect a calm, competent demeanor. I shouldn’t be worried. My pitch was razor sharp.

Kate sipped her espresso, her blue gaze shredding through the proposal to double-check for accuracy. “We have lunch reservations at Anthony’s right after the meeting,” she said in her low voice.