The elevator doors pinged open.
Julian St. Yves stepped out.
He didn't walk like Bastian. Bastian walked like he owned the building; Julian walked like he was planning to burn it down for the insurance money.
He strolled past the frozen security guards, whistling a tune. He wore his leather jacket like armor. He spun an apple in his hand.
He reached the double glass doors of the CEO's office.
He didn't knock.
He kicked them open.
BANG.
Inside, Bastian was standing behind his desk. He was on the phone, likely with lawyers. He froze.
Sitting on the leather sofa in the corner was Anaïs. She was reviewing contracts, Sacha playing with his tablet next to her with noise-canceling headphones on.
They all looked up.
Julian stopped in the center of the room. He took a bite of his apple. Crunch.
"Honey, I'm home," Julian grinned.
Bastian lowered the phone. His face went deadly pale.
"Security," Bastian said into the receiver. "Get up here. Now."
