Rory
A visitor badge printed at the front desk with a name I already knew, and I felt the whole floor shift slightly around me before I'd even looked up to confirm it. "Ivy Calder for Mr. Sterling," the receptionist's voice carried across the lobby, and I glanced up from the folder I'd been carrying between departments just in time to watch Ivy sweep through the security turnstile like she'd done it a thousand times before, auburn hair catching the light, dressed in something effortlessly polished that made my careful office blazer feel considerably less convincing by comparison.
"Rory!" She spotted me before I could decide whether ducking into a stairwell counted as a reasonable escape plan, crossing the lobby with the same easy warmth she'd shown at the charity brunch months ago, arms
