I got to the office early the next morning. A place that I hadn’t been since the afternoon before my tragic date. My team hadn’t even arrived yet, and for a few rare moments, I had the place all to myself.
It was well-suited to me. The entire floor of an office-building in Manhattan within walking distance of either coffee or alcohol—depending on the day. Designed to fit my tastes.
Elegant. Professional. With just a touch of flair to add that extra pop.
In my case, the ‘flair’ was a gourmet espresso machine that I’d written off for tax purposes, claiming it was a necessary tool for my job.
A little excessive? Perhaps. But that was my life now. It had been my life ever since I’d signed my new contract and come to work that very first day.
Working with the Huntington Corporation, meant
