Iris
“Mr. Brooks will see you now.”
The sound of the receptionist’s voice snaps me out of my deep thoughts. I look up to see her standing beside an open door, a smile plastered across her face. Standing, I quickly smooth down the front of my shirt before I hurry through the doorway.
In the conference room, a man wearing an expensive navy blue suit is waiting for me. He’s incredibly handsome in the cookie-cutter sort of way, like a male lead from an old black and white movie. His smile is all teeth as he stands and extends his hand to me.
“Miss Iris,” he says, and his hand is warm and smooth as I shake it. “My name is Albert Brooks, but you can just call me Albert. Please, take a seat. Let’s talk.”
I sit in a chair opposite him in the sleek conference room. The table is
