A NIGHT WITH MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS
His door was slightly ajar, his silhouette visible behind the glass wall composed, unreadable, untouchable.
Whatever world he lived in, it was miles above mine.
And yet somehow, I was standing right on the edge of it.
I opened my planner, forcing my hands to stop trembling, and typed the note:
> Reservation confirmed — The Obsidian Room, 8 p.m.
Then I hit send.
And tried not to think about what kind of man my boss really was.
***