The polished halls of the establishment echoed with footsteps as Alaric strode toward the main entrance. His long strides looked elegant while his tailored coat billowed slightly as he moved. Behind him was his secretary, Margaret, struggling to keep up, her heeled shoes clicking rapidly against the floor.
"Mr. Clarke, wait!" she called, clutching a tablet and a folder to her chest. Her voice was firm, though it carried a hint of exasperation.
Alaric didn't break his pace while his sharp gaze remained fixed on the doors ahead. "Whatever it is, it can wait," he said tersely.
"But it can't!" Margaret insisted, finally catching up to him near the elevators. "The investors are arriving this afternoon. They've flown in specifically to meet with you. If you're not here—"
"I'm aware of their
