The following morning, Sharon sat at her desk, her fingers gliding over her keyboard as she finalized the latest marketing projections Bruce had asked for. The lingering tension from her encounter with Russell was still fresh in her mind, but Sharon was adept at compartmentalizing. Russell was a tool, nothing more. Bruce, however, was a door,a gateway to the life she envisioned for herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft ping from her phone. She glanced at the screen and saw a message from Bruce:
Bruce Hill: Let’s have a quick chat in my office when you’re free.
Sharon’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly composed herself. She replied with a simple, professional acknowledgment and rose from her desk, smoothing out her skirt. As she made her way to the elevator, she rehearsed
