CHAPTER FIFTY-ONEShe walks toward me.Not rushes. Not strides. Walks.Every step is intentional. Deliberate. Like she's taking her time on purpose. Like she wants me to feel every second of her approach.Her heels click against the marble floor. Sharp. Rhythmic. Impossibly high and flashy, red soles that I recognize even from a distance.Louboutins. Probably custom. Probably worth more than everything I own.She looks extremely intimidating.Not just because of her height or her perfect posture or the severe cut of her suit.But because of the presence she carries. The way the air itself seems to shift around her. The way every person in the lobby has gone silent, watching.Afraid to even breathe too loudly.She stops inches from us.So close I can smell her perfume. Something dark and expensive. Jasmine and something else I can't identify.Her eyes, those ice-blue eyes, shift to Miguel.The look she gives him could kill.Actual hatred radiates from her gaze. Like his very existence
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