I stood at the base of the towering building with Brian beside me, staring up at its intimidating structure. Taking a deep breath, we stepped inside, heading straight for the front desk.
A woman sat there, her manicured nails tapping against the desk as she glanced up at us. She was dressed in an outfit that left very little to the imagination—tight, short, and designed to grab attention.
“We’re here to see Mr. Maddox,” I said firmly.
She raised a perfectly arched brow. “Do you have an appointment?” Her voice was smooth, but there was an underlying edge of disinterest.
I looked around, taking in the dim lighting, the sleek leather couches, and the soft music playing in the background. It didn’t feel like an office—it felt like a club.
“Is this Mr. Maddox’s office,” I asked dryly, “or
