Again. And the hotel reservation. Again. Yep, there it was, spelled out on the screen. He’d fly out on Friday afternoon and return Sunday morning. And he was booked into the best suite in the Hotel Aurelia. Once again he pulled out the invitation and checked the date. He knew he was being ridiculous. He flew all over the world, for heaven’s sake, and never behaved like this. He never double-checked times or dates no matter how important the meeting or the people involved. He paid his assistant well to take care of details like this, and she always did—flawlessly. She’d been her usual efficient self when he’d asked her to book him into the sole hotel in the tiny, back-of-beyond town of Aurelia, Ohio. She knew he had been born and bred there. In fact, anyone who was into multi-player video games or who paid attention to business news knew that. But the third time he’d asked her to confirm his itinerary, she’d looked at him funny. So now he closed the door to his office and checked it himself.
