The office building was quiet when I arrived. Too quiet. My boots made almost no sound on the carpet as I walked toward his suite. I reached for the door, smiling like an idiot.
Then I smelled it.
Gardenia.
Not fresh. Overapplied. Lingering.
It was not my scent.
I pushed the door open.
The bag slipped from my hand. Noodles spilled across the floor, steam rising uselessly between me and the truth unfolding on the leather sofa.
