“Looks like he’s free,” said Sinclair.

Myra picked up the phone. “Let me just-”

“I’ll only take a second.” Sinclair didn’t give the woman a chance to stop her.

Before Roger’s door could swing shut, she blocked it. “Excuse me, Roger?”

He glanced up, lips compressing, and a furrow forming in the middle of his brow.

“I don’t recall a meeting,” he said.

“I believe you have my files?”

“Chantal’s taking a look at them.”

Sinclair struggled hard to keep her voice even. “May I ask why?”

“I’ve asked her to provide her opinion.”

“On?”

“On the Valentine’s ball preparation. She’s taking a bigger role in the new product launch. I think we all recognize Chantal’s talents.”

Well, Sinclair sure didn’t recognize Chantal’s talents. And the ball preparations were all but done. She just needed to babysit it for the next week and a half. She sure didn’t need somebody messing with the plans at this late date.

Roger took in her expression, and his tone suddenly turned syrupy. “I appreciate how hard you’ve been working, Sinclair. And I know you’re busy. This will take some of the burden off your shoulders.”

“There’s no-”

“You’ll get your files back in a couple of days. Thanks for stopping by.”

Thanks for stopping by?

He’d pulled the most interesting and important project of her career out from under her, and that’s all she got?

Short of a raid on Chantal’s office, Sinclair didn’t know what to do. If the woman started messing with things, the ball could be completely destroyed. What if she called Claude at the Roosevelt? The head chef was temperamental at the best of times, and Chantal might push him right over the edge.

The conductor also needed hand-holding. The music was cued to coincide with speeches and product giveaways. Entrances and exits of VIPs were specifically timed, and the media appointments had to come off like clockwork.