Would you take the deal of a lifetime? Even if it meant you have to be a rich man's fake fiancée for a year? Well, Ivy took that deal. She's gone years without the need of a male partner in her life, but when it comes to it, money can solve all her...
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The city is a living, breathing, mechanism of chaos behind my back as I nearly break my neck trying to get a proper look at the massive hundred-story skyscraper in front of me.
Monday could not have come fast enough. I spent the entirety of yesterday just lazing around and making vision boards of my plan. As lazy as I was, I was also mentally productive so I can't complain too much.
However, no amount of preparation could have effectively eased the raging nerves inside me. Looking at the RC's massive home office, which is the tallest and most productive building in the heart of the city, only made my anxiety skyrocket.
I had never once imagined I would be standing in front of this building, and I tended to stay away from this part of the city simply to avoid it. Not for any particular reason, it's not like the RC did me wrong personally. I just like to play it safe and avoid men in power.
Yet, here I am, standing on the sidewalk as people pass me by, gawking like a fool, for nearly ten minutes. I'm aware I arrived thirty minutes earlier than our scheduled time, but I should hurry up and get this shit show over with.
So, I close my fly-catching mouth and strut toward the spiraling doors.
I hate these kinds of doors, what if my foot got caught on the way and some Final Destination shit happens?
It doesn't take me too long to make my way toward the security desk, minus the few moments I take to look over the interior. Whoever was tasked with designing this place did an insane job.
The moment you step inside the building, the wave of cold air and the smell of freshly waxed marble floors smack you in the face. Then the sparkle of perfectly clean and orderly decor is what grabs your attention.
Black marble floors paired with the elegant architecture of columns carved from the same stone keep the building standing, and the contrast of gold and cream-colored furniture just adds to the ambiance. Honestly, it feels like I'm walking into some elite high-society nightclub and not an office building.
I can hear the clack of my heels on the polished marble as I approach the man behind the massive circular desk in the middle of the floor. Hundreds of people move around me, all on their way to work.
He watches me with a raised brow, his eyes looking me up and down with contempt, "May I help you?"
"Yes," I reach for my ID and show him, "I have a meeting with Mr. Raven at noon."
He looks at my ID and then my face again before his fingers whip across the keyboard in front of him, most likely looking up his schedule to confirm my presence here. It takes only a minute before his eyes go wide at the information displayed on his computer.
