Chapter Ninety-Eight
*The Taste Test*
The air in Xami Lax's office was a controlled seventy degrees, but a new kind of chill had settled in since the boardroom clash with Axel. Every interaction now felt loaded. Every gesture had a shadow.
A soft knock interrupted his focus on a security report. "Come in," he said, his voice flat.
The door opened, and Penelope, his executive secretary, entered with a practiced, swaying walk. She was holding a small silver tray. Today, her blouse was a shade too sheer, her smile a touch too intimate.
"Mr. Lax," she cooed, placing the tray delicately on the corner of his massive desk. "You've been in here for four hours straight. You must be famished. I took the liberty."
On the tray was a dainty porcelain plate with three perfect, crustless sandwiches
