The meeting happened that afternoon in my private lounge. Aria showed up with her hair in a messy bun, an oversized sweater drowning her frame, and the exact level of sass I'd expected. She barely glanced at me before zeroing in on Cam, who was trying to look nonchalant while leaning against the bar.
"Walton. Cameron," she said, her voice dripping with mock formality. "To what do I owe the pleasure of being summoned to the evil corporate overlord's lair? Did you finally decide to bore my best friend to death with some big analysis and need me to plan the funeral?"
"Aria," I said calmly, gesturing to a couch. "Thank you for coming."
"I'm here for Izzy, not for you," she shot back, though she did sink into the plush velvet.
Cam bristled. "Some of us have manners, you know."
