The 99th floor didn't look like an office at all. Hermes stepped out of the elevator expecting glass walls, cubicles, and more of that sterile corporate polish he'd seen downstairs. Instead, it felt like walking into someone's home.
No, someone's museum.
The air smelled faintly of polish and old paper, the kind of scent that clung to archives and cathedrals. A wide, open space stretched out before him, divided into living room, study, and lounge without walls. White and gold dominated, the kind of sleek that made every surface gleam, but the longer he looked the more it felt curated…
Like a stage set. A place designed not just to be lived in, but to give an impression about its dweller.
