The lobby swallowed her whole.
After Samson gestured toward the seating area and told her, with professional neutrality, to take a seat while he checked with Mr. Specter, Lena obeyed on instinct rather than choice.
Her legs felt unsteady as she lowered herself onto one of the minimalist leather chairs, her fingers clasped tightly together in her lap as if that alone could keep her from shaking apart.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Samson said before turning on his heel and disappearing toward the elevators.
Shortly.
The word echoed mockingly in her head.
As soon as he was gone, the weight of the place pressed down on her. The lobby was vast and immaculate, all glass, steel, and polished stone, bathed in cold, flawless light. Everything felt deliberate, controlled, stripped of softness or w
