“Emma, please come into Mr. Carrero’s office. Thank you.” Margo was leaning over his desk and pressing the intercom to summon his future number two; meanwhile, he was reading the text from the chick with the elusive name, wondering how the hell he could see the same girl for a week and not have saved her phone number under an actual name. He’d saved it as T.

Fuck’s sake, Carrero.

The name Emma swam in his mind’s eye, and he found himself sounding it out. He liked it. ...