Raven Holt stepped out of the elevator into the nearly empty multi-level parking garage.
It was late Friday evening, and most people had already gone home. The air felt cool and damp against her skin. Her sheer white blouse clung to her slim-thick figure, and since she wore no bra, her full breasts and dark n*****s were clearly visible through the thin fabric. Her tight pencil skirt hugged her round ass and toned thighs as she walked. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor with every step. Her stomach twisted with dread after Mr. Grayson’s terse text.
She spotted him waiting beside his sleek black SUV in a dimly lit corner.
Mr. Grayson, 48 years old, stood tall and imposing. His broad shoulders filled out his tailored suit. Silver hair showed at his temples. He radiated authority. A ca
