My throat went entirely dry. I nodded stiffly, gripping my folder tightly against my chest to hide the shaking of my hands, and walked down the long, polished corridor.
The door to the private client suite was closed. I knocked twice, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"Come in," the deep, cold baritone called out.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Adrian was standing by the window, a cup of black coffee in his hand. He hadn't changed since I last saw him, not that I expected him to. He was wearing a charcoal-grey bespoke three-piece that made his massive frame look even more imposing.
He didn't turn around immediately. He let the door click shut, the silence stretching between us until I could barely breathe. When he finally turned, his steel-grey eyes locke
