CHAPTER 17
ARIANA POV
I marched down toward the elevator as soon as I was done, each click of my new, perfectly-fitted boots against the polished marble sounding like a promise of future violence.
The private elevator bank sat at the end of the long, silent corridor, a space lined with minimalist art that looked so pretentious I now wanted to slash the canvases just to see if they bled money.
It was all too clean, too quiet, and too much like a stage set waiting for a performance I hadn't agreed to give.
I reached the doors and barely had to press the call button before they hissed open with am irritated sigh, revealing a mirrored interior that reflected my fury back at me in high definition.
I looked like a stranger—a lethal, polished version of the girl who had been dragged into this building.
But leaned back in the far corner was Enzo. I didn't even have time to register my own reflection in the mirrored walls before I was staring directly into his scarred, weathered face.
