The sun filtered softly through the tall windows of the penthouse, casting a golden hue over everything it touched. Anastasia stirred beneath her sheets, her lashes fluttering before her eyes blinked open. The haze of sleep quickly cleared as the memory of yesterday crashed back into her like a storm. Her company—her legacy—was now in Dante Montgomery's hands. And no matter how charming or magnetic he appeared, he was the enemy.
She sat up abruptly, throwing off the covers. Today wasn't a day to lounge in self-pity. Today, she was going to reclaim her power.
After dressing in a sleek cream-colored blouse tucked into a pencil skirt and sliding on her heels, she exited her room with purpose. But as she opened the door, she nearly bumped into someone.
Dante.
He stood there, fresh from his own room, dressed in a dark button-down and fitted slacks that hugged his frame far too well for a man she wanted to stay emotionally distant from.
