Page 21 of What Comes Around

Then it clicked.

Last week, a local gossip magazine had run a spread after Knox was photographed leaving a Michelin-star restaurant with a well-known actress. The headline screamed New hot power couple? The article featured several photos. One of them was taken earlier that same day, showing Knox mid‑handshake as he finalized a major deal for a private members’ club tied to one of Sinclair’s casino properties. A seven‑figure expansion into a high‑net‑worth market.

Another captured the two of them outside the restaurant that evening. Knox stood beside a black car, one hand resting lightly at the actress’s back as photographers shouted questions. She leaned toward him, laughing, her hair swept over one shoulder and her hand curled around his arm

The woman walking into the office now was that actress.

I stood as she headed toward Knox’s office.

“May I help you?” I asked, stepping around my desk.

She gave me a slow, dismissive once-over.

“No, thank you,” she huffed, already turning away as she continued toward Knox’s office.

“All visitors are escorted on this floor,” I said, following her. “How did you get up here?”

She stopped and turned back slowly, a polite smile tightening across her face.

“I have a meeting.”

“With Mr. Sinclair?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t have any meetings scheduled.”

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the closed office door, then back to me.

“Perhaps your calendar doesn’t reflect everything,” she said coolly.

I stopped a few feet from her. “Perhaps. But I still can’t let you walk in without notifying him.”

She let out a small, irritated laugh.

“Who are you exactly?” she asked. “His assistant?”

“No,” I said simply.

“Then sit back down,” she snapped. “You’re overstepping.”

Linda had already left for the day. This wasn’t technically my responsibility. But neither was letting a stranger walk into Knox’s office unannounced.

“I’m doing my job,” I said.

She stepped closer, deliberately invading my space.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No,” I said. “But if you tell me, I’ll inform Mr. Sinclair and he can decide.”

Her mouth curved into a confident, sultry smile. “Trust me, he will want to see me.”

Ugh.

“You’re still not walking past me.”

Her eyes hardened.