Chapter Twenty-Three
Steph
A single echoing snap teleported me to the center of Cryer Media's entryway, already bustling with activity. Employees raced around carrying stacks of paper, notebooks, coffees, lunch bags—you name it.
As it turned out, this second task was going to be pretty damn hard. I had no clue how I was going to convince someone that being a workaholic wasn't best. Not to mention I had no name to go off of.
I glanced around, studying faces. What did a workaholic look like? God, all these people could probably pass for that.
The stressed-out concentration of harried fear hovered in the air.
I raked my nails through my hair and blew out a loud breath. Maybe the best place to start would be at the top.
The directory by the elevator beckoned, and I crossed the room, pas
