Morana's Point Of View
My fingers tapped lightly against the leather armrest as the car smoothly navigated through the streets, heading toward Sinclair Group. The afternoon sun reflected off the tinted windows, casting shadows across my face as I stared out at the city. The driver, a seasoned man named Walter, remained silent, his focus entirely on the road ahead.
My mind, however, was anywhere but here.
Leon Vargas.
The name lingered in my thoughts, a slow, intriguing puzzle I would soon unravel. His sharp eyes, his nonchalant attitude, the way he had agreed to my request yet made it clear that he worked on his own terms.
I smirked, I preferred men who weren't easily swayed. It made things all the more interesting.
"We've arrived, Miss Sinclair," Walter's deep voice interrupted her thoughts as the car slowed to a stop in front of the towering Sinclair Group building.
I took a deep breath, adjusting the cuffs of my blazer. "Thank you, Walter."
