Nadia's Point Of View
"Five minutes?" The word tore from my throat, echoing off the obsidian walls like shattering glass. My chest heaved as panic clawed its way up. The expensive perfume I'd dabbed on just hours ago now felt suffocating, cloying. "You're lying! You have to be lying." My voice cracked despite my efforts to maintain control. "They would never say that to me! I'm their sister! You're just some hired muscle trying to play God on the penthouse floor!"
The man in the white suit didn't even flinch. His eyes remained as flat as a dead man's, utterly unmoved by my outburst. A muscle in his jaw twitched, the only sign he'd heard me at all. "I don't lie, Miss. It's bad for the career." He glanced at his watch with deliberate slowness. "And the clock is ticking."
"I am not going anywhere!" I planted my feet, clutching my Prada bag to my chest like a shield. The leather felt slick under my trembling fingers. "I'll scream! I'll tell them you laid hands on me! I'll—"
