The elevator dinged softly before its doors slid open, revealing Dylan. Clad in a neat black suit and a crisp white shirt, he looked ridiculously handsome, effortlessly commanding attention without even speaking.
His short, fresh haircut pronounced his already sharp features. The air seemed to still like someone held it down, as though even time paused to admire him.
"You're in early today," Kristen, the blonde receptionist, blurted with a wide grin. "And that haircut, wow. You look fly, Mr. Dylan."
He didn't pause. His face remained unreadable, stoic in the way that only came from years of learning to hide emotion. Compliments were not new to him. He had long stopped reacting to them.
"Kristen," he said flatly as he walked past the desk without breaking stride, "have someone else take over here. I need you filling in for Allan until he returns."
And just like that, he disappeared.
