The room smelled of stale coffee and expensive floor wax.

Brenda Lawson was already waiting near the tall glass windows overlooking the city skyline.

She had arranged three empty water glasses in a perfect line on the table.

She stood beside a long mahogany table that took up most of the room.

Douglas Kingsley sat at the far end with his back to the frosted glass door.

He wore a bright yellow silk tie and had his hands steepled in front of his chest.

Samantha sat to his right, tapping her phone screen with a pale manicured nail.