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Serene’s POV
The office was a cavern of shadows and opulence, its air thick with the scent of polished mahogany and the faint tang of Nicholas Volkov’s cologne—sandalwood and danger.
Dim light spilled from a single chandelier, casting golden flecks across the room, illuminating the towering bookshelves that lined the walls and the massive desk that squatted like a throne at its center.
Papers were strewn across the desk’s surface, alongside a crystal decanter that caught the light like a prism, and a fountain pen that gleamed with quiet menace.
The room was a paradox—grand yet suffocating, a stage for power plays and whispered threats.
My sneakers clicked softly against the polished hardwood floor as I approached Nicholas, my heart hammering in my chest.
Each step felt like
