“Not today,” I say, grateful for the return to normal topics. “Benjamin and Ainsley will be working from our offices for the time being. I thought it made the most sense for me to work on-site initially, get a better understanding of internal processes, and then bring them in as needed.”
“Of course,” Lorenzo says. “That works well for us.”
Ricardo nods once. “It’s great to meet you, Ms. Murray. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
“I’m sure.”
He gives Lorenzo a look too brief to read, then heads toward the elevator.
I watch him go for half a second before forcing my attention back where it belongs.
Lorenzo catches it anyway.
“We’re not all this intense,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow before I can stop myself. “Well, I've met three out of the four of you now, and I'm not sure that's true.”
His charming smile flickers. “All right. Most of us are.”
“That seems more believable.”
“Diego is less intense. I promise. You’ll meet him this afternoon.” He laughs and gestures for me to follow him. “Come. Your office is this way.”
We walk in the opposite direction from the conference room we used yesterday. The corridor curves around the central core of the floor, past more frosted glass, more closed doors, more art that looks expensive.
There is no noise here.
Phones are answered behind thick doors. Conversations happen in hushed voices. No one rushes. No one appears confused. Even the movement in this place feels organized.
It’s a bit unsettling.
Lorenzo stops outside an office on the far side of the building and opens the door. “This will be yours while you’re here.”
I step inside. Then stop.
For a second, I forget to be professional.
The office is beautiful.
Not huge or anything, but large enough that it is definitely not a spare room someone found for outside counsel. The desk is sleek and dark, positioned near the windows but not directly in front of them. There is a small sitting area with two chairs and a low table. A bookshelf, currently empty. A credenza with a coffee machine, water, and a small tray of fruit. A secure docking station already set up on the desk.
And the view.
Chicago stretches beyond the glass, all steel and stone and movement, the river cutting through the city like a dark ribbon. Morning light hits the buildings at angles, turning windows gold and silver. From here, the city looks less like something I have been fighting to survive in and more like something I could one day belong to.
I turn back to Lorenzo. “Wow.”
His smile is mild. “Will this work?”
“This is really too much.”
“It’s an office.”
“It is not just an office.”
“It has a desk. Chairs. A door. Very office-like.”
I give him a look.
