The Corridor
Caden
I sent the message before I could talk myself out of it.
Room 14. End of the corridor. Ten minutes. Come alone.
Then I put my phone in my pocket and went back to nodding at whatever Henderson was saying about the stock market and told myself she wasn’t going to come. She was smarter than that. She’d stay out there with her champagne and her red dress and her laugh that did things to my chest and she’d ignore the message entirely and I’d spend ten minutes alone in an empty room coming to my senses.
Seven minutes later I was standing at the door of Room 14 watching her walk down that corridor toward me and every sensible thought I had left the building.
She was trying to look unbothered. Chin up, shoulders back, that expression she wore when she was pretending not to
