I can't believe that bitch took a whole ten minutes to get through.

My fingers curled around the strap of my purse as I stared at the elevator numbers climbing. 8:15. Fifteen minutes late. The exact opposite of what Mr Romano drilled into my head yesterday, be here at eight, not 8:01, not 8:05. Eight.

Well, I could just blame him for not telling his employees I'll be here.

The elevator dinged, and Pete stepped out first, his usual scowl deeper than normal. I followed him down the corridor, ...