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Chapter One<br />
Tinya froze. Something had brushed against her left leg beneath <strong>the</strong> boardroom<br />
table.<br />
She tried to keep her face carefully neutral as she glanced across at <strong>the</strong><br />
director. Falsh was clearing his throat, ready to address his executives. Had<br />
he meant to touch her leg with his own, or. . .<br />
There it was again. Tinya feared for a second she might actually break her<br />
habitual cold composure and blush. Up till now, Falsh had never outwardly<br />
shown <strong>the</strong> slightest interest in her – beyond her abilities as his personal PR<br />
liaison executive – and that had suited her fine. His face – well shaped and<br />
lined attractively with experience, not age – was impassive as ever, and yet. . .<br />
Yes! There it came again: a deliberate brush Just below her knee!<br />
She frowned. She’d both dreaded and daydreamed about this moment.<br />
Falsh’s power alone made him attractive, and for such a devious man he had<br />
a straightforward reputation – what he wanted, he took.<br />
Tinya looked out of <strong>the</strong> window, hoping <strong>the</strong> familiar splendour of Saturn<br />
and its rings would soak up her messy thoughts. Not a chance.<br />
Falsh leaned back in his chair. In his impeccable black suit, only a shade<br />
darker than his unblemished skin, he drew all eyes without even trying. Now<br />
he studied briefly <strong>the</strong> dozen expectant faces ga<strong>the</strong>red before him (avoiding<br />
her own gaze, she noted) – before letting his honey-coloured eyes rest on <strong>the</strong><br />
holo-minuter.<br />
‘Minuter off,’ he instructed, and <strong>the</strong> text bubble obligingly popped. ‘Emergency<br />
symposium of Falsh Industries Select Executive continued at 16:47. I’m<br />
aware that our celebrated decoratiste will be arriving shortly. But before he<br />
arrives, I felt it prudent we discuss <strong>the</strong> accidental demolition of Carme. Just<br />
to set <strong>the</strong> record straight among ourselves.’<br />
A few knowing smiles and smug expressions blossomed around <strong>the</strong> table.<br />
‘A lamentable incident,’ lisped Piers to her right, Falsh’s operations analyst,<br />
oily as ever in his pinstripes. ‘Our contract with Blazar Demolition Services<br />
has been terminated.’<br />
‘I should hope so,’ said Hoon, sat opposite. He was something high up<br />
and dull in Accounts. ‘Inevitably, Falsh Industries has been made to appear<br />
incompetent by association with Blazar.’ He tilted back his head and peered<br />
at Piers over <strong>the</strong> handlebars of his prodigious moustache. ‘Damage to Falsh<br />
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