[Next Morning—Veritas PR & Media Solutions Lobby]
Elle Carter had never regretted a text faster in her life.
Well, except maybe the time she accidentally sent "U up?" to her dentist instead of her ex-boyfriend Callen. (Result: an awkward reminder to floss.)
Or the time she said, "Thanks, Daddy," to her professor after he gave a generous curve on her final exam. (He still avoids eye contact.)
But texting Damien Wolfe, "Let's give this relationship a trial run," now sat comfortably at the top of her Hall of Shame, laminated and backlit like a museum artifact.
She stood in the company lobby, coffee in hand, dressed in her safest, most neutral outfit. Not sexy. Not sloppy. The exact midpoint between "I'm definitely not sleeping with the boss" and "I cried into this shirt while watching Pride & Prejudice last night."
Her phone buzzed.
Text from: Luna (Destroyer of Chill)
"Did he pick you up in a helicopter yet?"
"If he proposes during a Monday meeting, I demand a live feed."
