FREYA POV
I knew I lacked any sort of steeze right now, simply because as they led me inside, my eyes got wider—every hook, every corner, I was staring like a tourist. There were men in suits everywhere—at least one or two standing guard at every single entrance we passed.
It made me straighten my back without even realizing it.
We walked deeper into the house until we reached a quieter section of the hall. My attention snagged on a large framed portrait hanging alone on the wall. A massive framed portrait of a woman in her late 50s. She had these sharp, piercing eyes and dark, elegant curls that fell perfectly around her face. If I wasn't mistaken, there was a striking resemblance to Steve.
One of the men reached for a set of double doors and pushed them open. I stepped in and literal
