KISAREL.
I crossed my legs for the fourth time in twenty minutes, stared at my laptop screen, and saw absolutely nothing on it.
Through the glass wall, Oceans sat at the head of his conference table with the J'erope group — three men in expensive suits who had been in his office for the better part of an hour — wearing the expression he reserved for meetings he could conduct in his sleep. He looked so composed, unhurried, and completely at ease.
Meanwhile, I was sitting at my desk trying to remember how to operate a keyboard.
This was the third meeting he'd had in his office today.
So unlike him. He always had his crucial meetings in the conference rooms.
And he made sure I never left his sight. Even when I pretended to use the restroom, which was also within our office, he made sure
