Nicole’s POV
The door swings open with a flair that would make any Broadway actor proud. There he stands, Alexander Sterling, more stunning in person than any over-filtered i********: snap could convey. His tall frame, slightly hunched from the evident weight of recent life crises, looks like he's been moonlighting as a stress ball. His hair, a rich shade of dark brown, seems to be styled by a mischievous whirlwind. His suit is dark gray, tailored to perfection, yet it gives off a charming "I've seen things" vibe. But it's his eyes—those deep, deforesting green eyes—that captivate me, now twinkling with a dash of exhaustion and a heaping spoonful of surprise, directed straight at yours truly.
"Ms. Golden?" he inquires, his voice a rich baritone, only with a side of bewilderment. "Nicole
