Rett

Standing outside my front office, I reiterated to Henri that there had never been an appointment scheduled with Richard Michelson.

“Yes, sir,” Henri said. “I contacted Mr. Knolls when Michelson first arrived.”

I owed neither Henri nor Richard Michelson an explanation of my delay. The simple singular thought of the beauty who’d been the cause would reroute my blood supply in a way I’d worked to quell.

When I nodded, ...