Ava’s POV

The elevator dinged, soft and smooth like a whispered secret, and I stepped onto the twelfth floor—Cross Enterprises’ executive wing. My heels clicked against the marble, echoing in the wide, quiet hallway. I clutched the manila folder tighter, willing my sweaty palms to behave.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really. Junior associates didn’t get summoned by Damien Cross himself.

But today, I was the exception.

The glass doors to his office were tinted, giving just the ...