OCEANS.
I kept my eyes on my phone.
Three sixteen PM.
For the better part of the one hour I sat in that conference room, I had developed a routine so consistent it had practically become scheduled.
Pick up the phone. Look at the screen like it were a f*****g ticking bomb. Register the absence of what I was yearning for. Place the phone face down on the table. And pick it up again.
Rinse and repeat.
For one hour.
She still hadn't replied.
Fuck.
I picked up my pen and looked at Hargrove, the client across the table. He was a careful man in his sixties who managed a private equity portfolio that Stark Sovereign Capital had been courting for the better part of three months.
I gave him the version of my attention that I had available right now, which was not the version he deserved an
