Emma’s hands shook a little as she stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor of the sleek glass building. The hallway smelled like expensive wood and faint cologne. She smoothed down her simple yellow sundress, the one that hugged her full breasts and stopped just above her knees. It was the only nice thing she owned right now.
She had exactly forty-three dollars in her account. This job was her last hope.
The door opened before she could knock. Alexander Vale stood there in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing strong forearms dusted with dark hair. He was taller than she expected — easily six-three — with sharp jaw, thick black hair, and eyes so dark they looked almost black. Thirty-eight, the agency had said. He looked like sin wrapped in money.
“Miss Emm
