At dusk, the stern boss shed his armor.

The sunset blazing through the office window was as scorching as red-hot iron. Seren Ashworth paced across the sprawling crimson light and gave Leander Pemberton a solid ten-minute dressing-down. The whole thing started with an email sent during the lunch break—she was furious that he had casually marked it as "Important," cheapening the very weight of the word. Leander Pemberton leaned back in his chair, watching his famously sharp-tongued female boss as the corners of her mouth twitched and the rims of her eyes reddened, suddenly feeling she resembled a cat with all its fur standing on end. He opened his mouth and said he had something interesting to show her.