The office wasn't quite what Thiago expected.
Puma's São Paulo headquarters sat in a low-rise building near Avenida Faria Lima, all sleek glass walls and soft white lighting that made everything look expensive but not flashy. The reception area had smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and expensive coffee when they'd walked in, the kind of place where assistants in tailored suits answered phones in three different languages.
But the actual meeting room was smaller than he'd imagined. Just a matte-black table that reflected the overhead lights like still water, two snake plants in the corners that looked like they'd been watered exactly enough to survive but never thrive, and a tray of untouched bottled water sweating in the air conditioning. The chairs were too stiff, the kind that made you sit up straight whether you wanted to or not.
And right in front of him, thick as a textbook and just as intimidating: the contract.
