Sharice would have thrown her paperweight at the door if her best friend and partner Claire hadn’t snatched it out of her hand. Thwarted in venting her exasperation one way, Sharice instead let her thoughts rip verbally. “He is such an arrogant SOB. He demands and I—I mean we—are supposed to jump to do his bidding.” Sharice scowled at the door. A cough interrupted Sharice as she opened her mouth to continue her tirade, and she turned to stare at her friend. “You kind of have to. You’re his event planner—whatever he wants, you are required to make happen,” Claire stated factually, pushing her glasses up on her button nose. Sharice glared. “Well, he doesn’t have to be sooo bossy about it, and the way he stares at you with those icy, penetrating eyes.” Claire rolled her eyes at Sharice’s exaggeration, “Perhaps his eyes look icy because they’re a strange, light silver and it comes across that way.” Sharice eyes narrowed to slits. “Hey, whose side are you on, hmmm?
