Amara Denz arrived at Baze a few minutes shy of eight and rode up in the elevator alone, thank God. The moment she stepped off on the reception floor, she darted into the bathroom to take a quick glance at herself in the mirror. She wore a black shift dress and black jacket with nude, practical shoes—a conservative outfit, one she felt good and professional in. Her hair was blown out in loose blonde waves, and her makeup was understated—just enough to cover her sleepless night and add a little gloss to her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. She looked the part, and she knew it.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she had no idea where she was supposed to head next. She didn't know if she'd even get an office, let alone where it might be. She floundered for a mome
