As I look at Leila, her face reddens to a deep brick color. And I grasp the other big secret. It’s so obvious I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
“Wait… Leila, you didn’t. You couldn’t. You slept with Peyton?”
Normally, that would be the headline for our day. Today, I have to choose between Bosses Fornicating in Secret, and Tech Start-up in Bed with Italian Mafia. Either way, it’s tawdry. But she just shrugs like it’s no big deal.
It isn’t my business or why I fought to come into work. I stare through the frosted glass of the conference room out at Evgeni’s outline. He’s so rigid and silent that it makes me feel like ants are crawling over my skin, but I also don’t have any desire to see him lying in a puddle of his own blood if the Italian mafia decides to add some real-life oomph
