Mia
Turner Industries looks like Santa came in and threw up everywhere. Nutcrackers stand guard by the entrance. A small Christmas tree sits proudly on the reception desk, while an enormous one towers in the center of the lobby. Candy canes, red-and-white ornaments, and fake icicles hang from every branch.
Usually, I would be happy to see it—but not today. Today, my neck is sore, my f*****g head is pounding, and on top of that, one of my staples popped, which I had to have replaced last night.
I spin in a slow circle, taking everything in—not to enjoy it, but to wonder how they even managed all of this before everyone arrived. It definitely didn’t look like this yesterday.
The elevator dings open before I can press the button, and Jodie steps out—dressed head to toe as Mrs. Claus. The
