The office felt suffocating as Adam stepped inside Mr. Johnson’s suite. The blinds were half-drawn, streaks of sunlight cutting across the expensive marble floor. The air conditioner hummed softly, but it did nothing to ease the heat building in Adam’s chest.
Mr. Johnson stood by the window, tall and composed, staring down at the bustling street below. He didn’t turn around when he spoke.
“Adam,” he said slowly, his voice calm, too calm. “You’ve been the talk of the office lately.”
Adam’s throat tightened. “Sir?”
Mr. Johnson finally turned, a faint smile curving his lips. “Don’t act surprised. You’re sharp enough to know when eyes are on you.”
Adam shifted uneasily. “If this is about the gala…”
“It is,” Mr Johnson interrupted. He walked
