MARION
Bzzzzt
Bzzzzt
Bzzzzt
Looking at the nightstand beside the bed, my phone vibrated with an incoming call from the front desk. “Yeah?” I grunted, voice scratchy from my sleep.
“Good Morning, Mr. Whitfield. Please, Miss Paula is here to see you.”
I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, 6:11 am. “Allow her up,” I said flatly before ending the call.
In the bathroom, I relieved myself, then paused in front of the mirror. My reflection stared back, sharp yet unruly. I needed a haircut and my beard trimmed. ASAP.
As I descended the stairs, the elevator slid open. Paula entered hurriedly into my penthouse, heels clacking the marble floor as she walked, looking dishevelled like she had been drowned. I stood at the end of the stairs, arms folded against my bare chest, and I s
