Daisy

One glass became two.

I wasn’t counting. I was staring at the counter and methodically not thinking about anything. Not the contract. Not the war room. Not the way he’d looked at me like I was a mildly interesting problem he’d already solved. Not the way my chest had hollowed out when I saw his hand close around hers—

I reached into my bag for a napkin. That was when my fingers suddenly hit something stiff. I pulled it out slowly. It was a white card. Crisp. Clean. Embossed black lettering.

Norman White. White Industries. And his stupid phone number.

I set it on the counter and stared at...