I should’ve known from the second the elevator doors opened that I was in over my head.
The marble floors gleamed like liquid silver beneath my heels, and the air was thick—like something alive pulsed through the walls of Wolfe International. My heart thundered in my chest as I stepped out onto the top floor, clutching my leather file portfolio like it might save me. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the five pairs of eyes that waited on the other side of the glass double doors.
I pushed them open slowly.
Five men. Five gods in designer suits. And every single one of them looked at me like I didn’t belong—like I’d just walked into a lion’s den wearing perfume made of blood.
The first to speak was the one at the head of the sleek, dark conference table. Lucian Black.
“Miss Aria Quin
