Anna.
It’s only 1:00 PM, and already the girls have managed to get under my skin. With my arms crossed tightly, I level a piercing glare at the two of them. Jane is once again leaning carelessly against my pristine glass counter, her posture exuding a blatant disregard for my workspace.
Through gritted teeth, I hiss, “Get off the glass. If it breaks, you’ll be paying for it with your wages.”
She straightens up abruptly, gasping as she claps her hands together anxiously, while Sarah nervously twirls a lock of her hair through her fingers, glancing between us. “I’m sorry, Miss Petrova.”
The hangover is killing me; my head's pounding, and I'm pretty sure I rolled out of the wrong side of the bed because I seem to be in the worst mood today.
I begin pacing slowly, every step calculated. “
