Clara woke to the smell of dark roast coffee and the unfamiliar sensation of thousand-thread-count sheets.

For a long, disorienting moment, she stared at the vaulted, exposed-concrete ceiling. The guest suite of Julian Thorne’s penthouse was a masterpiece of minimalist luxury—floor-to-ceiling wind

"Julian, thank God you picked up," Derek’s voice filtered through the sleek speaker of the phone, sounding tinny but laced with a frantic, breathless edge. "I know it’s early, but we have a slight—very slight—situation on our end."

Clara sat perfectly still on the barstool, her hands resting flat o

The ballroom of the St. Regis in San Francisco was a cathedral of corporate vanity. Massive banners bearing the Hayes Technologies logo hung from the ceiling, flanked by high-definition screens looping slick, abstract animations of data streams. Rows of plush chairs were packed with tech journalists