The woman who had just silenced the entire office was Lora Hale, twenty-seven years old, and a walking contradiction made flesh. She was young, yet carried herself with the presence of someone who had already conquered several industries. She was beautiful—strikingly so—but her beauty wasn’t the soft, fragile type. Hers was the kind that hit people straight in the chest, sharp and bright, like a spotlight turned up too high. And her body… well, the form-fitting business suit she wore had long since surrendered any attempt to look conservative on her. On her figure, even a standard office uniform somehow radiated sensuality.
Some of the male employees—immature brats pretending to be men—whispered among themselves and privately called her “the Masterbate Friend.” An ugly nickname, implying
