8: Avery’s pov

I’m still standing in the middle of the office when the door swings open without a knock.

Hard.

Two heels click in first.

Then voices.

“What the hell is this?”

I turn slowly.

Dalia Carter stands in the doorway, arms crossed, lips curled like she just stepped into something foul.

Minnie is right behind her, eyes darting around my office like she’s counting everything that doesn’t belong to me.

In my own office.

Still feels strange to think that.

Dalia’s gaze drags over the desk, the chair, the glass walls, the view behind me.

Then it lands on me.

And hardens.

“You have to be kidding me,” she says flatly.

Minnie lets out a sharp laugh.

“This is stupid. What do you think you’re doing here, Avery?.”

I straighten my shoulders.

“Can I help you?”

Dalia steps inside without waiting for permission. Minnie follows, neither bother to shut the door behind them.

“This floor is restricted,” Dalia says. “You don’t just wander up here.”

“I didn’t wander,” I reply.

Minnie scoffs.