Gina
The email dropped into my inbox just before lunch, flagged with a bright red High Importance.
At first, I thought it was another notice about the new phone system the tech guys had been fumbling with for weeks. But then I read the subject line:
Summons – Gina Lombardi.
Summons. Not “meeting.” Not “appointment.” Not “quick chat.” Summons.
My heart skidded into my throat.
“Holy crap, Gina,” Jill hissed over my shoulder before I could even blink. She leaned so far into my personal space I could smell her peppermint gum. “You got a summons from him.”
I snapped the mouse away from her prying fingers. “Don’t touch my screen! And don’t read my emails!”
She ignored me entirely, eyes wide. “Summons. Like, medieval knight court summons. Do you think he has a gavel? Or one of those powde
