"Matt, that's not an intruder," the guard said.
Matthew creased his brows and stared, perplexed, from his men to the man who still had me pinned to the wall.
My heart did a backflip, a deep dive, a somersault, you name it. Every acrobatic maneuver possible was happening inside my chest.
The owner of this room wasn't supposed to arrive until next Wednesday, two days before the fundraiser. I'd checked my records. I'd triple-checked them, actually, because Mr. Scott had drilled it into us that we couldn't afford any mistakes.
Unless… he'd come ahead of schedule?
***
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