If I felt like an idiot at the bar, I feel even worse the following morning. My head is killing me. Yeah, that's definitely the last time I trust the promises of a Long Island Iced Tea. That bitch.It's Saturday, which is when I'd normally sleep in, but for some reason I told Roman I'd meet him for lunch so we can discuss my strategy. I still have no idea why I agreed. Oh, right - I was drunk and stupid last night.As I pull on my jeans, I consider calling and canceling. The thought of facing him after last night makes me want to throw up - but on the other hand, that might just be the hangover. With my luck, I'll take one look at him and get sick all over his shiny designer shoes.The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that for some weird reason, I want to go. It doesn't matter if Roman actually believes I can pull this off, or if he's only doing this for his own pleasure. This is my chance to show him how far I'm willing to go for this job - and to learn a couple of
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