With the sound of the door closing, a man's voice came through.
"Miss Johnson, what's wrong?"
Hannah Johnson looked up to see Mr. Grant walking in, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, his expression one of surprise but his eyes brimming with triumphant laughter, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Need help?"
"How dare you!" Hannah gritted her teeth.
She tried to steady her breathing, leaning against the vanity, her hands tightly clutching her purse.
"I didn't want it to be this way," Mr. Grant spoke while sucking on his cigarette, puffing out clouds of smoke. The tobacco scent had now filled the entire restroom, thick and suffocating, "But upon careful consideration..."
"This is risky, but the returns could be huge once it's successful."
Hannah took a deep breath, her fingers clenching tight.
Her nails dug into her palms.
Her well-done manicure cracked, the throbbing pain in her palms helping clear her mind!
