(Bastian's Room)
The door to Suite 402 clicked open.
Anaïs walked in, holding a thick manila folder.
"Bastian?" she called out. "I have the signed PR agreements. I'm leaving them on the desk."
There was no answer. The room was empty. She just remembered...Bastian was at a meeting with his lawyers, and Ken must have been out running errands.
Anaïs sighed. She walked over to the mahogany desk to drop off the paperwork. This was the deal: they were a PR Strategy, so she had to handle the logistics.
She placed the folder down next to Bastian's laptop.
She turned to leave.
But then, something caught her eye.
Sitting on the nightstand, next to a glass of water, was a leather-bound book.
It wasn't a script. It wasn't a business ledger.
It looked old, worn at the edges, as if it had been opened a thousand times. The leather was soft from being held.
Anaïs frowned. Bastian wasn't sentimental. He didn't keep old things.
Her curiosity got the better of her.
