Art of Denial (Claire Highton-Stevenson. Connected World Romances)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Kent.

Sloan Slater stared at the text until the word stopped being a place on a map and became a problem she wasn’t sure she could solve.

It would take at least an hour to drive there, and there was the question of who, exactly, would agree to spend a night with Gloria Slater.

Not a carer. Not overnight. Not at short notice.

Gloria had sent sixteen of them packing so far. Some lasted a week. Some didn’t make it past the first morning.

Dominium was a once-a-month opportunity for Sloan. Her one indulgence away from the world she was now living. The one place she could let herself forget about it all and just enjoy her surroundings.

And she knew her mother could ruin it without even leaving the house.

Sloan put the phone back into her pocket and climbed out of the car, as if doing so could put the wanting away. Ignore it. Pretend you don’t need anything.

She headed across the car park, coffee cup in one hand, briefcase in the other, her Prada bag slung over the shoulder of her tailored, slate-grey suit.

Entering the office, her Manolos moved silently over the thick carpet, heels swallowed by the pile.

She’d twisted her hair into a severe, flawless bun that morning—efficient, armoured, immoveable.

Nothing like Joan, the mousy, apologetic girl she’d been. And nothing like the woman who took control in life now.

She let her office door shut behind her, and set her bags down. Lowering herself into the chair, she rolled her shoulders once, twice, forcing the last of the morning’s irritation back beneath the surface.

Gloria’s latest complaints and tantrums had tried to follow her in. Sloan had pushed them back and reminded herself who the hell she was.

On the desk, the last file waited where her assistant, Dawn, had left it. Sloan opened it, skimmed the contents, then picked up the phone.

“Nigel?”

She let him talk—excuses, panic, too many words all at once—the usual.

“I don’t care how it gets done,” she said at last. “I want it completed. And I would strongly advise against making me call you in here again. Am I clear?”

There was a moment of quiet as she listened to him scramble for agreement.

“Good.”

She replaced the receiver and sat back, every inch the composed senior executive. Calm on the surface. Controlled.

Beneath, something jagged hummed—an edge she knew well, and one she’d stopped pretending she didn’t enjoy.

It was the last Friday of the month. If Gloria Slater could just behave for one night, Sloan would have Dominium—women only, invitation only, never in the same place twice.

The club had been a godsend. A pressure valve. Somewhere to go when denial stopped being sustainable.

Sloan had been on the list since the beginning. Her friend Eleanor knew the creator and had put her name forward for an invitation. Sloan had taken it with both hands.

Since then, she’d used the club to fill certain voids in her life, because it was easier to settle for something controlled and transactional than risk wanting more when she had her hands full with Gloria Slater’s wants and needs.

It felt like it had been a long time ago since Maggie had invaded her life and made her want more; made her want to give in.

Sometimes Sloan allowed herself a moment to imagine it being that way again—someone special, someone serious. Sometimes she wanted it—painfully.

But it wasn’t possible.

Not while Gloria dictated so much of her life.

She reached for her coffee, already doing the mental arithmetic of time, money, and the favours she’d need to ask to make a trip to Dominium tonight worth her while.

The decision was made for her when there was a knock, and Dawn poked her head around the office door looking none too happy.

“I’m afraid there’s a problem,” she said, half-whispering.

Sloan felt the first stirrings of a headache. “What now?”

“The Boston office has lost all access to their system. They can’t send over the weekly reports or those new SOPs we are waiting on.”

“Which means,” Sloan said flatly, “I’m going to be stuck here waiting until they do, or risk putting everything on hold.”

So much for Kent.

Dawn smiled and nodded. “I took the liberty of ordering coffee and a sandwich from that place you like. They said they’d bring it over shortly.”

“Right. Thank you.” Sloan glanced at her watch —almost five. “You might as well get going. I can finish up and deal with Boston if anything else comes up.”

“Are you sure? I can stay for—”

Sloan waved a hand. “No. It’s fine. Thank you.”

Dawn smiled. “Okay. I’ll pack up, then. Have a good weekend.”

“You, too.”

Sloan watched the door close behind Dawn and let out a low groan as she picked up the phone to arrange for the carer to stay another couple of hours.

At least there would be coffee.