The elevator pinged, the doors glided apart, and Sarah released her grip on his arm and sailed forth, spine erect, class, breeding, and grit emanating from every fiber of her being. There wasn’t even a second of hesitation. Sarah knew exactly where she was going, and Mick followed, close enough to be backup, not so close as to draw attention or cramp her style. She strode past a corridor of occupied cubicles and desks. Mick was aware of heads turning, a building buzz of whispers, but Sarah didn’t look right or left. It was almost as if she were unaware of the furor she was creating. However, Mick could see the slight tension in her jaw, the faint flush of color staining the tips of her delicate ears. As Sarah approached a set of large steel-gray doors at the end of the corridor, she glanced to the side at the fresh-faced young woman who sat at a desk to the left of the doors.

The woman looked up from her keyboard and smiled politely. “Hello. May I help you?”

“Yes. I’m a client of Mr. Clarke. Sarah Rainsford. I’ve lost my ID. Mr. Clarke has copies of all my pertinent papers: driver’s license, passport, birth certificate, et cetera. If you could please gather them for me while I’m meeting with Mr. Clarke, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“Certainly.” The young woman was skimming through the day calendar on her desk. “Sarah Rainsford, you said? I’m new here.” She clicked open a corresponding calendar on her computer and scanned it. “Don’t have all the client names down yet.” She lifted her gaze from the screen and shook her head, a helpful smile on her face. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to find you on his schedule. Perhaps you got the day wrong?”

Sarah hesitated for a split second. If Mick had blinked, he would have missed it. “Nope,” Sarah said decisively. “Our meeting was scheduled for now. Not to worry.” She briskly stepped past the young woman, grasped the door handle, and swung the door open. “I’ll announce myself.”

“Please hold Mr. Clarke’s calls,” Mick instructed to the startled secretary. He felt his cell phone buzzing in his pocket again as he followed Sarah into the large corner office. Mick shut the door behind him with a thunk and locked it for good measure. He could hear the scramble of the secretary’s heels as she rounded her desk. Could feel the rattle of the metal door handle as she frantically tried to get it to open.

“Mr. Clarke,” she called. “I’m sorry. I tried to stop them. Do you need me to call security?”