We were whisked up to the sixty-fifth floor. When the elevator doors opened, we were met not by assistants, but by the heavy silence of the boardroom.
Arthur Reyes sat at the head of the table, his presence like an old oak tree, gnarled, immovable, and deeply rooted. To his left were Damon and Jasper. Today, they didn't look like the drunken playboys from the estate, they looked like sharks who had caught the scent of blood.
"Ah, the happy couple," Damon drawled, leaning back and spinning a heavy gold pen between his fingers. There was a sharpness to his gaze now, a calculating intelligence that suggested his usual hedonism was at least partially a mask. "I must say, Alexandra, that red dress from the gala is still being discussed in the lower circuits. Very.…..bold. Almost enough to make people forget about the debt."
