The Billionaire’s Muse
I walked past the gray suit and pushed the heavy, dark wood doors open, stepping into a library lined with thousands of leather books that stretched all the way to the high ceiling.
A large fire crackled in the hearth, throwing orange shadows across a desk the size of a small car. Harlan Vaughn sat behind the desk, his shock of white hair contrasting sharply with his granite-colored skin.
“So,” Harlan said, his voice rough and deep. “You are the designer my son is suddenly introducing to the board.”
“I am Meghan Cole, sir,” I said, keeping my hands clasped tightly behind my back so he couldn’t see the way my fingers were locking together with tension.