Page 7 of Manhattan State of Mind

“Steve Reynolds calls her Wonder Woman,” Matty chimes in, giving my arm a supportive pat.

My head rolls into my neck.Shut up, Matty.

“A pleasure, Lucy,” Mr. Wolfe says with a glint in his eye, making it clear I’m anything but.

“Okay!” Andy attempts to clap his hands together but misses the mark, smacking himself in the chest instead. “Shall we keep the ball rolling, Mr. Wolfe? Introduce the rest of the team?”

“You have two minutes.”

“All righty then! Taylor, you’re up!”

“Mr. Wolfe,” Taylor says in a loud, confident tone. “We met last year at the company awards ceremony; you presented me with the Excellence award.”

She’s practically glowing in the limelight. I watch her, torn between admiration and loathing.

“So,” she continues, her voice teetering on the edge of obnoxiously loud, “a little bit about me. I’m on the company’s social committee and act as a mentor for fresh recruits—”

“Thanks, Taylor.” Andy anxiously eyeballs his watch. “Moving on!”

To my dismay, the rest of the team jumps on the Taylor-bandwagon, putting on their game faces for Wolfe. Even Matty straightens up and switches on his charm.

I’m mortified. Once again, I’m the networking equivalent of a flaccid dick.

Wolfe’s nostrils flare. His entire demeanor hums with this simmering, barely contained power, like he’s merely a few shirt button pops away from unleashing chaos. My bet is a night with this man would be nothing short of hot, angry sex.

It’s clearly been too long for me.

As if sensing my stare, he turns the full force of his eyes on me, sending my pulse skyrocketing.

I manage a strained smile before diverting to Mandy bragging about her bug-free code.

“And that’s the team!” Andy declares, clapping his hands successfully this time.

Wolfe nods his approval. “Good,” he says coolly. “I expect everyone to be all in on this project. No room for excuses or delays. Tangra will be operating from the Vegas office, so prepare to spend half your time there.”

Most folks seem thrilled about living it up in Sin City—all expenses paid.

Not me.

I would be hyped too, if not for Wolfe’s apparent disdain for me, and my impending apartment listing in New York—I can’t be away from home.

“We launch in six months,” Wolfe says.

Hold up.

Did he just pull that deadline out of his ass? This is a massive feature—design, testing… it’s a year’s endeavor, minimum. We need to start small, test it out on a few casinos before scaling up.

But Wolfe doesn’t strike me as a man who appreciates the art of taking things slow. He’s got that same I-want-it-done-yesterday attitude of the other stuffed power suits.

They think my day consists of shuffling buttons and pondering the philosophical question “should the button be blue or green?”

Scanning the room, Taylor looks like she’s seen a ghost, Dwayne’s frowning like he’s decrypting theDa Vinci Code, but Andy? Andy’s nodding, ready to take on this mission impossible.

A Lead Designer would step up, speak out, tell the arrogant suit his demands can’t dictate timelines without consultation. It’s not some sliding scale where he gets to pick and choose the finish line.

Except, I’m not a Lead Designer. And the suit in question signs my paychecks. And he’s caught me with a scathing caricature of himself.

“Fantastic!” Andy claps his hands in a jittery motion and rocks back on his heels.