Nia Mitchell quietly sighed in relief. That had been terrifyingly close. If she had been even a fraction of a second slower, Sophia Moore would have seen her. That was far too close for comfort.
While that was Nia Mitchell's concern, Maxwell Peary's thoughts were elsewhere. Sophia Moore knocked but entered without waiting for permission. What was the difference between that and not knocking at all?
"Mr. Peary, your coffee."
Like a relentless pest, Sophia Moore approached Maxwell Peary, holding the coffee.
Maxwell Peary's face was grim; he didn't even glance at the cup.
"Did I ask for coffee?"
Maxwell Peary was genuinely furious. When he was at his angriest, his expression barely changed. Yet, the pressure in the room suddenly shifted. The entire office felt like a silent, oppressive chamber; it was as if nothing could be seen or heard.
