My Ghost Husband Is My Billionaire Boss

ng on about quarterly projections. Clarice sat at a small table to the s

led a number. Nolan Sinclair, who had been

ce quiet but carrying the chilling weight of absolute authorit

y degrees. Henderson started to sweat, shuff

ll the preliminary reports that morning. She quickly located the correct data, highligh

icy gaze softened for a barest fraction of a second.

ed, as if he'd had it all along, "i

ting proceeded. Across the table, Ethan Cole caught

e executives filed out, several of the

ise. He simply said, "Move my two o'clock call to on

ice replied, feeling a small spa

's private line. Clarice saw the caller ID flash on

take the call, his back to her. His voice was low, bu

our w

her to d

ndmother, I'm busy," he said, hi

t stood there, staring out at the city. He began

ped and looked di

im. "Hypothetically, if a man has... neglected his wife for a signifi

fingers hovering

r, that sincere communication is paramount. Perhaps

?" he pressed, his

sound like a generic advice columnist. "But classic choices

eadable. He seemed to come to a decision.

test collection catalogs from Cartier and Hermès. Have

over the intercom, fu

heard

ce a conspiratorial look. "Looks like there's trouble in paradise,"

g together a new image of her boss. Cold, demanding, ruthless in business-

nexpectedly

er advice was logical. Practical. He would start with a m

ce on how to apologize to his w

husband, Hank Miller. A man who had disappeared without a word. She looked at Nolan Sin