WESLEY
I had barely made it out of Natalia's office and into the corridor before Vincent Carson's assistant appeared at my side.
"Mr. Brooks," she started. "Mr. Carson would like a word before you leave. His personal office, if you don't mind."
I glanced back toward Natalia's closed door and then followed the assistant down the hallway.
Vincent's personal office at Diamond was nothing like his daughter's. Where Natalia's space was organized and purposeful, everything in its place and pointed toward work, her father's office felt like the room of a man who had already won and was now simply enjoying the view. Dark wood paneling, deep leather chairs, a desk that had probably cost more than most people's cars. He was already seated behind it when I walked in, and his assistant pulled the
