The elevator doors hissed open with their usual polite, yet slightly menacing, sigh.
I stepped inside, hitting the button for the executive floor. The smooth ascent felt like the calm before the storm.
The display panel counted down: 10, 9, 8… My stomach did a little flip, not of nerves exactly, but of… anticipation? Amusement? It was a dangerous game I play every day, and I was becoming disturbingly good at it.
The doors slid open on on our floor, revealing the polished chrome and muted blues of the executive hallway. And there he was. Right outside the elevator bank, leaning casually against the opposite wall, looking entirely too put-together for this hour. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, and his gaze, sharp and assessing, landed directly on me.
"You're late," Adrien stated, his voice low and devoid of warmth, just the crisp, authoritative tone he used when addressing a late employee. It was a challenge, a power play masked as a simple observation.
