The Golden Maze
The champagne was cold in my glass, the bubbles dead and flat, but the firm was alive. We were celebrating the acquisition of the St. Jude Medical Group, a sprawling complex of glass and steel that smelled of ozone and old money. I stood near the wet bar, watching the steam rise from the ice, my fingers white-knuckled around the crystal. I was thirty-four, a senior architect, and I had one week...
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