MAISIE
The hot, scented water is finally starting to unknot the tension in my shoulders. I have my head tilted back against the rim of the massive tub, eyes closed, a half-full flute of champagne resting on my stomach.
Lena is across from me, one hand holding her own glass, the other scrolling through her phone, the blue light reflecting on her face.
The peace lasts for about thirty more seconds.
"Ooh, an email from the OmniCorp events team," Lena says, her voice cutting through the steam. "Invitation to their annual charity gala at the New York Public Library. Black tie. You know every investor, rival, and journalist in the city will be there."
"Uh... no," I say, without opening my eyes. The very thought is exhausting.
"Why not?" she asks, and I can hear the pout in her voice. "It
