“Monica?” Derek’s voice boomed from the top of the landing.

He rounded the corner, his silk tie loosened and his forehead creased with irritation.

“What are you doing up here?” he demanded.

“I came to get a fresh cardigan,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “It is freezing downstairs.”

He stopped a few feet from me, smelling of single-malt scotch and expensive cologne.

“That incompetent staff Laura brought is ruining the evening before it even starts,” he snapped.

“It was just a dropped glass, Derek,” I said, keeping my hands clasped in front of my stomach so he wouldn’t see them shake. “Laura is already cleaning it up.”

“I pay these people thousands of dollars to be invisible and perfect,” he said.

He looked past my shoulder, his sharp eyes narrowing at his office door.

“Why is my door open?” he asked.

“I thought I heard the heating vent rattling in there,” I lied quickly. “I was going to check.”

He scoffed, taking a step toward the door.

“Since when do you care about the HVAC system?” he asked.