Harper’s POV
After sending the office address to the mysterious Mr. Frost, a sudden wave of panic washes over me. I rush out of my cubicle, desperately needing to prepare the main conference room for a high-profile billionaire.
I’d normally go ask Evan for advice on how to impress a client of this magnitude, but after the chilly reception he gave me earlier, I know he needs space. Instead, I glance toward the front of the office and spot our receptionist, Briana. She’s sitting at her desk, looking extremely bored as she lazily files her nails and stares blankly at her computer screen.
I approach her nervously, clutching my notepad to my chest.
“Hey,” she says politely, pausing her nail file. “You need something?”
“Maybe,” I say tentatively. “Are you familiar with setting up the confer
