Harley’s P.O.V.

“Don’t call me that!”

I scowled, shoving against his chest. “I am not a walking disaster.”

It was like pushing against a wall, warm, solid and infuriatingly unmoved. But Carlos stepped back, laughing, the sound smooth like velvet wrapping around steel.

“Alright, alright,” he said, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “Point taken, Princess. Now do me a favor and go to the manager’s office on the fifth floor. It’s time to start work.”

I huffed and turned on my heel, clutching the folder like a lifeline. “Bossy!” I grumbled under my breath and stormed outside without saying goodbye.

The fifth floor had a different feel from...