So I take a deep breath, count back from ten, and say, “We’re going to need a map.”
Apparently, luck hasn’t forsaken me forever.
We find our maps right at the entrance. Petra swipes one from the neat pile of trifold brochures and holds it open in front of us with a single hand. The other one is, of course, still threatening to snap my arm at the first wrong move. Definitely not the most charming date I’ve been on.
Petra frowns at my commanding tone, but I don’t have time to be polite. This is a job. Work Mode is the only way I’ll get through it.
Correction: the only way I’ll get both of us through it.
“Let’s take a turn around the room.”
“I didn’t realize we were two Victorian maidens,” Petra mutters.
“You want to keep sassing me out or you’d rather keep your freedom?”
We walk arou
