The heavy lock on the glass door clicked loudly. The handle turned.
The blood in Ryan's veins turned to liquid nitrogen.
The frosted smart-glass didn't turn transparent—the privacy setting held—but the physical deadbolt on the door had been manually overridden. The heavy glass slab was already swinging inward.
"Shit," Sophie hissed.
Pure survival instinct kicked in.
Sophie scrambled backward, sliding off the polished wood. She didn't have time to fix her skirt, and her panties were somewhere on the other side of the room.
She dove straight down, folding her body into a tight crouch, and vanished completely into the dark, cavernous recess beneath the massive walnut desk.
Ryan moved with blurring speed. He dropped into his high-backed executive chair, violently yanking it forward until the thick wooden modesty panel of the desk completely concealed his lower half.
