The Pleasure Directive
The doors opened on a quieter corridor—thicker carpet, darker wood, a sense of privacy that said this was where real decisions were made.
Kael’s office door scanned the guards, then her collar, then unlocked with a soft click.
“We’ll wait outside,” one of them said.
“Thank you,” she replied.
She stepped in.
She’d been here before—signing the contract—but this time, she looked with different eyes.
The office was all clean lines and cold luxury: black desk, glass walls, a single painting on one wall that probably cost more than most people’s houses. The city sprawled beyond the glass, a map of power and vulnerability.
Hot Chapters