Darren Steele and Rachel Teschmacher burst out of the office on the upper floor, their polished exteriors betraying none of the madness they had just raged within.
Darren's tailored charcoal suit hugged his broad shoulders, his tie still knotted with military precision, while Rachel's sharp blazer and pencil skirt ensemble screamed authority, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a metronome set to a furious tempo.
They had serious expressions on their faces and they moved with purpose, making a beeline for the elevator.
The doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a mirrored interior that reflected their tense expressions back at them.
As they stepped inside and the doors sealed them in, Rachel turned to Darren, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly, a faint crease forming between her brows. "Do you have any idea why Anders is here?" she asked, her voice low but edged with suspicion, as if she were testing the waters before diving into a shark-infested sea.
