Liam stood in front of the glass tower, adjusting his tie for the third time in as many minutes.
The building was impressive—no, scratch that. It was intimidating as hell.
Forty stories of steel and glass reaching into the morning sky like some corporate monolith. The letters "HART INDUSTRIES" were mounted on the front in polished chrome, catching the sunlight and probably blinding half the pedestrians on the street.
He looked down at his suit. Black. Sleek. Well-fitted.
It was the finest one he owned—a gift from Elena that he'd been terrified to wear for months because he was convinced he'd spill coffee on it. He'd made sure it was freshly pressed for today, though his palms were already sweating enough to undo all that effort.
Beside him, Elsa shifted nervously.
She was wearing a navy blue pantsuit that fit her perfectly.
Professional. Sharp.
