TRIANGLE

TAG#II

The roar of the engine echoed through the air as she pulled into the front lot, the polished body of her black-and-chrome big bike gleaming under the midday sun.

The rumble died as she switched off the engine, kicking down the stand with a practiced motion. A moment of silence followed before her boot hit the pavement, the sound crisp and commanding.

Heads turned, whispers rippled through the crowd. Employees, visitors, even passersby-all froze mid-step, captivated by the sight of her. She slid off the bike with fluid grace, pulling off her helmet to reveal windswept hair that framed her strikingly angular features.

Her tailored jacket clung to her frame just enough to hint at the strength beneath, while her confident smirk could disarm even the most stoic.

She didn't rush. Instead, she slung the helmet over her arm and strode forward with long, assured strides, her boots clicking sharply against the marble walkway.

Her eyes scanned the sea of stunned faces without flinching, her aura a mix of nonchalance and undeniable magnetism.

Every movement was deliberate, calculated-a quiet display of dominance that needed no words. She knew they were watching. She always knew. And she loved it.

As she passed through the revolving doors, the security team stood a little straighter, and the receptionist's greeting faltered.

She flashed a quick, disarming smile before stepping into the open atrium of the company she now commanded, her presence as electrifying as the bike she'd just parked outside.

As she entered the towering glass doors, the building seemed to hold its breath. The vast atrium was a hub of activity-people talking in clusters, assistants rushing by with files, and executives exchanging clipped words-but all of it seemed to pause as she crossed the floor.

Her boots echoed against the polished tiles, the rhythm of her steps steady and unapologetic. She carried an effortless authority, the kind that didn't need announcements or introductions. Her sharp suit-a custom-cut ensemble with subtle details that spoke of wealth and precision-only added to the magnetism.

Eyes followed her every move, some with admiration, others with curiosity, and a few with unspoken jealousy. She glanced at no one directly, her gaze fixed ahead, but her presence demanded attention regardless.

"Who is she?" someone whispered near the reception desk.

"New director," another voice murmured, awe-struck.

"The one who rode that beast of a bike?"

"Yes. Stunning, isn't she?"

If she heard the murmurs, she didn't acknowledge them. She reached the elevator and pressed the button, standing tall and composed as she waited.

When the doors slid open, a group of employees inside quickly shuffled out, their nerves betraying their discomfort under her watchful eyes. She stepped in, alone, the doors sealing her away from the crowd's watchful gaze.

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The elevator doors opened directly to her floor, the executive suite. Her office was at the end of a long, plush hallway, and even here, the atmosphere seemed to shift as she walked through.