The double doors of Victor's private suite swung inward on silent hinges. The sudden hush felt like stepping out of an airport into a cathedral, with thick carpet underfoot, glass walls framing the skyline, and long tables gleaming like still water. Screens blinked to life on the far wall, throwing shifting data across the polished wood. The scent of expensive coffee and steel filled the air.
Elias slowed despite himself. For all his muttering in the car, the scale of the place still hit like a punch; high above the city, it was less an office and more a throne room disguised as a workspace.
Ashwin and Robert peeled off without a word, taking up quiet positions by the door. Connor strolled in last, still smirking, and swung himself onto the arm of one of the leather chairs as though he owned the place.
"You know," Connor said cheerfully, "I've been here for years and even I don't get ushered in like royalty. What's it like being the rumored mate everyone's been whispering about?"
