aging waterfront transportation corridor north of Boston. The project had eventually been completed successfully, but halfway through construction a serious engineering dispute had delayed work for nearly two months.
There had been arguments over foundation reinforcement.
Consultants had resigned.
Millions had been lost.
The details had been handled mostly by Adrian’s father, Graham Whitmore, who was still CEO at the time.
Adrian had been running the company’s western regional operations then and had only been indirectly involved.
By the time he returned to Massachusetts, the problem had supposedly been resolved.
Adrian stood.
“Daniel was on Rivergate?”
Marissa’s face had become unreadable.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I know that?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you knew who I was when you applied to work here.”
It was not an accusation.
Still, Marissa lowered the tray.
“I knew your name.”
“And the company.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Her eyes hardened slightly, not
