By the time I swipe into the Hale Hospitality building, I’ve worked myself into a full spiral.
The office is buzzing with its usual morning chaos. Patricia waves at me from her desk outside Bastian’s office. I wave back and head straight for the conference room where our weekly Project Olympus status meeting is scheduled.
Bastian is already there. He stands at the head of the table, frowning at something on his tablet. He looks like he always does: perfect and remote, like a beautiful mountain range. He doesn’t look up when I enter.
“Morning,” I say. It sounds way too fawning for my liking.
“Good morning, Ms. Hunter.” He couldn’t say it any flatter. “Please have a seat. We’ll begin shortly.”
Ms. Hunter, he calls me. Like we didn’t spend Friday night tangled together in a movie theater
