KISAREL.
It was looking like a fine Monday morning until I decided to make a detour to the fifth floor to drop off Kloe's novel. I had borrowed it over three weeks ago and hadn't opened a single page of it — the storms in my life had made sure of that — and I figured returning it was the least I could do before she started thinking I'd kept it on purpose.
I stepped out of the elevator and was heading toward Kloe's desk when Carol's voice echoed across the floor, dishing out instructions that sounded like pre-formatted commands.
"We have a meeting with the boss at ten. Go over your monthly report," she was telling Janice without breaking stride. "Unless you want to lose your job."
My heart skipped a beat.
My feet slowed without my permission.
The boss.
Mr. Stark was back?
Didn't he
