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Chapter 84

Cole shoved through the front door of Hart & Associates — which didn't go as well as she might have hoped because it was revolving, and she had a hard enough time getting through those things when she was completely compos mentis — and then went plunging across the foyer. Everything was a haze of glass and steel and marble. Beautiful in a way, a godless cathedral, full of echoes and refracted light, but it was also the kind of space designed to make one feel shabby and small.

Which, if you asked her, was an architectural dick move.

She kept catching glimpses of herself in too many gleaming surfaces. Wildly out of place in Hart's Temple of Mammon in scruffy jeans and a T-shirt, and her favorite jacket — the velvet one she'd worn to the dinner, with holes in the elbows and all the nap worn away, her rainbow pride bracelets disappearing under the fraying sleeve. She hadn't even taken the time to engineer her hair so it was multidirectional and ridiculous. Basically, she looked
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