MR. WRONG
I think he is new, I have never seen him before.
"Later, Davis," I say and walk to the reception.
Sasha, the receptionist, beams at me, and I force a smile back.
Smiling at people when your heart is breaking down got to be the hardest thing ever.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Bryant, and welcome back."
Mrs. Bryant?
I fucking hate that name.
"Thank you, Sasha. Is Mr. Styles in his office?"
"Nope," she glances at her wristwatch. "He should be here in about ten minutes."