~ Frank ~

The air in Arthur Sterling’s penthouse office is always too thin.

Today, it feels like it’s pressing against my lungs.

It smells of floor wax, leather, and the kind of money that doesn’t care who it crushes.

I stand by the window, my hands clasped behind my back. I know exactly how I look. My navy suit is tailored to perfection. My hair is gelled into a style that doesn't move, even in a gale.

I am Frank Miller, the man who brings projects in under budget and ahead of schedule. I build things that last.

"You’re staring at the horizon again, Frank," a voice purrs from...