COLE
I showed up on time.
Not seventeen minutes late. Not a strategic, power-play twelve. I walked through the door of Nova Calloway’s office at exactly 2:00 PM carrying two cups of coffee. The coffee was tactical. Diane had told me to build rapport. Rapport required gestures. Gestures required data. I had passed her in the break room two days ago and watched her pour a cup straight from the pot without reaching for the cream or the sugar. She’d taken one sip, set it on the counter, and gone back to reading whatever was on her tablet without breaking focus. *That was observation, not interest. There was a difference.*
She was already seated behind the mahogany desk, silver pen aligned with surgical precision beside a fresh legal pad, dark auburn hair pulled into that same severe knot sh
