Theresa.
The private glass elevator descended in smooth, weightless silence, dropping through eighty floors of the Ironclad Group headquarters until the doors chimed softly and opened into the isolated, subterranean parking bay.
The underground floor was quiet, cool, and bathed in sleek fluorescent lighting. Sitting squarely in the center of the private bay was the midnight-black executive SUV—an armored, broad-shouldered beast of a vehicle built for absolute privacy and heavy security.
Nora walked a few paces ahead, giving a quick, subtle hand signal to the security detail posted near the perimeter before opening the rear door for me with a respectful nod.
"Everything is clear for transport, Ma'am," Nora reported in her steady tone. "The route back to the high-rise suite has been swept."
Geez! Nora was really taking her job seriously, but I liked it.
"Thank you, Nora," I said, offering her a warm smile as I stepped toward the vehicle.
