I punched my pillow for the fourth time in ten minutes, but the down-filled rectangle wasn’t the real problem.
Actually, it was the ghost of a touch that I still felt on my skin, and the fact that my bedroom currently felt like a high-security enclosure.
I flopped onto my back, staring at the ceiling and replaying the boardroom scene for the thousandth time. My professional dignity hadn't just been compromised, it had been shredded and fed through a high-end industrial processor.
I, Rahab, the woman who could calculate a five-year fiscal projection in her sleep and identify a fraudulent invoice from thirty paces, had moaned against a one-way glass window while the entire city pulsed below.
"It was the adrenaline," I whispered to the empty room, trying to sound authoritative. "A physiol
