NATALIA
The next morning, I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hands. My fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment before I typed the message. I kept it short and professional, just like I told myself it had to be.
“Can we meet today to talk about the project? There’s a popular restaurant downtown. I’ll be there at seven.”
I hit send before I could change my mind. The second the message left my phone, my heart started racing so fast I had to press a hand against my chest. It was just the thrill of finally taking action, I told myself. Nothing more. This was business. This was about fixing the mess the scandal had created and nothing else.
I stood up and walked to my closet. I chose a simple navy dress that wasn’t too formal but still looked put together. As I slipped
