she saw Jake grin—just a little.
As long as she remembered to treat him exactly as who he was: a client, and she continued to diligently leave the past exactly where it belonged, this could actually work out okay.
It could. Kind of like how pigs could—theoretically—fly right past this twenty-sixth floor window.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow is fine.’
‘Excellent,’ Ella said—briskly and with utter professionalism.
She excused herself and exited the Armada building just as briskly and professionally.
And to look at her, absolutely no one would ever know, or even suspect, how much she was shaking inside.
What had she just got herself into?
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