Sensing my foul mood, Presley stands behind me, draping her arms across my chest. “Cheer up, Mr. Sinclair,” she whispers in my ear. “That’s two more items we’ll be able to check off my list, making you that much closer to getting out of here.” I should be thrilled that I’ll be back in New York soon, right? So why am I disappointed that my time out-of-office with Presley is running out?
