I arrived at Cross Industries at 8:50 a.m.
This time, Piper was waiting for me in the lobby. She looked nervous, like she'd been given very specific instructions and was terrified of messing them up.
"Grace, hi. Mr. Cross will see you now. He's in the executive boardroom on the forty-second floor." She lowered her voice. "He's in a mood."
"Isn't he always?"
She gave a small, anxious smile and led me to the elevator. We rode up in silence. My portfolio felt heavy under my arm, but my hands were steady. I had spent the whole night refining the pitch. I wasn't going to let him see me sweat.
The doors opened onto a floor that smelled like money and freshly brewed coffee. Piper walked me to a large glass room with a long table. Damian sat at the head, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled. He di
