PROLOGUE
Lucy
I sit up in my chair, putting on my game face.
It’s that time of year again at Quinn & Wolfe: performance reviews. When managers morph into grumpy trolls, and we minions scramble to cram a month’s worth of work into a single week, all in a futile attempt to prove our worth. It’s our white-collarHunger Gamesbut with more paperwork and no Hemsworths.
Helen from HR slides a stack of papers to my boss, Andy. He inhales deeply, eyeing the pile as if it holds the weight of the world’s woes. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Flipping through the papers, he glares at Helen. “Why’s it so much longer than last year?”
She meets his scowl with a polished smile. “We’ve included a comprehensive assessment of soft skills—communication, teamwork, collaboration.” She punctuates her words with a triumphant pen tap against his file. “It’s all in there, Andy.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters under his breath.
It’s not often I agree with Angry Andy.
He sighs again, settles on the first page, and clears his throat noisily as Helen slides a copy my way.
“Productivity, excellent. Problem-solving skills, excellent…” He flips the page with the enthusiasm of a man forced to read a dishwasher manual. “Flexibility, excellent.”
As he yammers on, my attention drifts to the view outside—the Empire State Building. It’s easy to forget I’m hovering forty floors above reality when I’m elbows deep in wireframes and screen designs.
“Your designs are exceptional,” he drones. Funny, that doesn’tsoundlike a compliment.
Still, it’s hard to argue with “exceptional.” I blush, basking in the ego stroke. This is it. Come on, Andy, spit it out already.Lucy, you’re promoted to Lead Graphic Designer. Congratulations.
About freaking time.
“Teamwork…” Andy looks up from the paperwork. “Good, although stop covering for Matty when he sneaks out for a three-hour lunch.”
“I don’t—”
“I have eyes, Lucy, and they aren’t just for show.”
Right. I squirm in my seat. No more all-you-can-eat Turkish buffet for Matty.
Andy skims the rest of the form as if trying to beat a speed-reading record. “Attendance.” He flicks a glance my way. “Actually, you’re too early for meetings. Like a dog waiting by the door for its owner. It’s off-putting.”
I stare at him, stunned. Helen looks like she’s ready to disappear under the table.
Too early for meetings? Is that even a thing? Before I can mentally give him the finger, he’s already plowed on.
“Time management, great. Everything’s done ahead of time, in fact”—he flips the page and gives me a look that could be a smirk or a facial tic—“Steve from marketing dubbed you ‘Wonder Woman’ for your swift work on the blog design.”
I nod in stoic agreement, face carefully blank. “Just doing my job.”
Wonder Woman,my ass.More like a chronic workaholic.
To buy more time, some people claim jobs will take five days when really, they take two. Take my work buddy Matty as a prime example. Me? I’m the opposite. I’ll stay up all night to perfect a task, then breezily claim I knocked it out in a couple of hours.
“All right, let’s wrap this up.” He slams his pen down, turning to Helen. “Are we good?”
Hang on a second.
“Andy,” Helen interjects, “You skipped section 15.8.”
“Ah, for fu—” He lets out an exasperated sigh, shooting her a look of utter contempt.
