Finally, she sank into one of the four buttery-soft leather chairs. Jovie ran a hand through her hair and glanced around the intimate space. Unlike the other conference room, this one could only accommodate four people. Heavy oak shelves lined one wall, filled with all sorts of books ranging from law practice to cooking for crowds to the latest styles of dancing and anything in between. Sadly, none of that knowledge would help her escape her current predicament. How many re-worked contracts would they expect her to turn over? Ten? Twenty? She ignored the sick feeling in her stomach. Seconds before she moved her gaze to the tabletop, it fell on a hard-backed collection of fairy tales. Rolling her eyes, Jovie crossed her arms on the table and sank her head on top. Wouldn’t it be great if she could snap her fingers and call forth a magical being? Then everything in her life could go back to normal without incident and she wouldn’t be trapped in a conference room, her fate hinging on the whim of two jerks.
