NEXT DAY, AT CR COMPANY!
A sleek, impossibly shiny car slid to a halt at the entrance of CR Company like it was auditioning for a luxury car commercial. The driver's side door swung open, and out stepped Paul—half smirk, half swagger, and one hundred percent dressed to kill. If confidence had a cologne, the man was practically marinating in it.
Inside, conversations slowed, coffee cups paused mid-air, and every head turned like it was choreographed. It wasn't every day Paul made an entrance here. Especially not like this.
"Holy hell. What's he doing here?" one employee hissed to her buddy, eyes darting.
"Don't call him 'he,'" her friend murmured ominously.
The first employee blinked. "Okay, what should I call him? She? The Ghost of Employment Past?"
