After the whole fake scandal ordeal yesterday, aria's driver dropped me at work.
I stepped into the office exactly three minutes early, clutching a takeaway coffee like it was holy water and I was walking into a church haunted by ghosts.
I was wearing a clean blouse, sensible heels, and my most convincing I'm-fine-thank-you-for-asking face. my desk was already holding a printed agenda for the Johnson Proposal.
I booted up my computer, opened the shared drive, and began checking through folders like my life depended on it. It kind of did.
Everything had to be airtight. The logistics timeline. The vendor contracts. Department submissions. The architectural brief alone was the length of a small novella, and that didn't even cover the marketing projections.
Adrien hadn't come in yet. Not that it meant anything. He could glide through those doors at any moment for all I care.
I sipped the coffee, eyeing the small sticky note stuck to the side of my monitor. My own handwriting:
