“Forgive Donald,” said Brady. “He can be brisk at times.”
“Really? I never noticed,” Bryan replied with an eye roll.
There was no hall on the fifth floor. The elevator stopped and dropped them into a waiting area. A receptionist desk guarded a glass door with the words Brady Simmonelli, CEO etched on the front.
“Good morning, Mister Simmonelli,” the perky brunette behind the desk drawled.
“Good morning, Brenda,” Brady replied. “This is Bryan Whittaker. I will be administering the final test today.”
Her eyes widened and she smiled. “That's wonderful news. Good luck, Mister Whittaker.” Her scarlet lipstick glistened from the overhead fluorescent lights with some of it sticking to the top of her teeth.
“Have a seat, Bryan.” Brady motioned toward an oversized leather seat parked in front
