65

Lirael's POV

I strode into Nathan's office, the plush leather of the chair conforming comfortably around me as I settled in. Today, I carried the weight of the latest Paradise-1 numbers, a project I'd been pouring my heart into. A sliver of nervous excitement danced in my stomach, but I forced a confident smile as Nathan's gaze flickered up from his computer screen.

"Good," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of surprise, perhaps because my usual Monday morning jitters were absent. "Raphael should be here in a moment."

Our usual routine involved convening in Raphael's office, a space that mirrored his personality – sharp and sophisticated, with a touch of old-world charm. But this morning, renovations were underway, the rhythmic thrum of construction a stark contrast to the typical symphony of the city that usually hummed outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Nathan, ever the accommodating host, had offered his office as a temporary substitute.

The cityscape stretched out before me,