she damn well owned it. Everything about that straight back,
shapely legs in six-inch heels, and black power suit screamed
money, confidence, and power. Giana’s dark hair was twisted
up into a tight knot. When she turned around, her beauty hit
Coralyn full on.
Her face was naturally gorgeous. Coralyn had refreshed her
research before coming. The photos online didn’t do Giana
justice. She was absolutely breathtaking and overwhelming to
the point of almost ominous in person.
Giana Thompson was thirty-four years old. She inherited
the company from her father when he retired, and owned a
good portion of the new builds in the city, and more all over
the state. The company was slowly expanding, doing builds in
other big cities, all the way down south to Texas. And this was
the woman in charge of it all.
“H-hi,” Coralyn stammered. “I’m Coralyn Anderson. I’m
here to see you.” She felt incredibly stupid. Bland and dull
standing there with the drugstore makeup she’d applied with
shaking hands, her best coat, and her sensible winter footwear,
which were probably leaking melting snow all over the
expensive tiled floor.
Giana’s eyes were a thousand shades of green, and the light
coming through the windows, hitting her high cheekbones,
slim nose, and full lips, only accentuated every detail of her
ethereal beauty. She was over six feet in those skinny heels.
The tailored suit probably cost thousands of dollars and fit her
curves exactly. She wore a tasteful, elegant gold chain around
her neck and no other visible jewell
ery.
Coralyn was nervous standing under the intense, silent
