Anya’s POV
We got to the gate of the mansion, and the Uber rolled to a slow stop like even the car knew the place was intimidating. Two guards marched toward us, both of them tall and wearing dark uniforms that made them look like secret agents. One of them tapped on the window, and I jumped a little before rolling it down.
“Name?” he asked, staring at me like he was scanning my soul.
My throat tightened. For a moment I almost forgot who I was. “A-Anya. Anya Davenport. I’m… I’m Mr. Nikandros’ assistant.” My voice came out too soft, so I cleared my throat. “His… new assistant.”
He looked at a clipboard, then at me again. That pause felt like an hour. Finally, he nodded and stepped back. The huge black gates slid open slowly—dramatically, like in those rich-people movies where everything
