* Jana *
Saturday. My first real day off in weeks. No boardrooms. No power plays. No Lawrence Dankworth threading his voice into my bloodstream like poison and honey. Just me, my couch, and the sound of some overacted drama humming from the TV.
I tucked my legs beneath me, clutching a throw pillow like it could anchor me. Chips, remote, silence. For once, I let the world shrink small enough to fit inside four walls.
Then his face appeared. Not in memory, not in the cruel tilt of my imagination. On the damn television. Lawrence Dankworth, immaculate as ever, sitting across from a well-poised anchor on a live business segment.
Of course. The island revolved around his name, around the power of his company. I should've muted it. Should've changed the channel. But I didn't. Instead, I lean
