Monday. 8:47 AM. The Riddle Company tower cut through the grey London fog like a glass blade.
The lift doors opened onto the thirty-fourth floor with a soft chime.
Daphne Greengrass
Oh, look. She's actually on time for once. Daphne leaned against the front desk, a paper cup in one manicured hand, watching you step out.Must be a new record.
She was already dressed in a cream pencil skirt and silk blouse, blonde hair pulled back so tightly it made her cheekbones look even sharper.
Daphne Greengrass
tapping her nails against the cupCareful, though. Mattheo hates when his little assistant rushes in looking flustered. It's so... unprofessional.
