I lean back in my desk chair with a groan, massaging my temples. This week has been awful—just one disaster after another—and if I were a superstitious man, I'd think I was cursed.
The canceled meetings and the broken elevator. The faulty fire alarm that keeps going off at the worst possible moments. Even the vile coffee that my assistant brings... and what does she do, stew it in an old boot?
It's all put me weeks behind schedule, with pissed off contacts and extra-harried employees. My shoulders are so tense, my bones should crack.
"Coffee, sir."
Philomena's blonde head pokes around the office door, then the rest of her body follows. She's in a burgundy dress today, with long sleeves and a little black collar. I watch her bring a steaming mug across the room, held aloft like she's aw
