Page 101 of I Am Sin

I blink. “Uh…sure. Of course.”

Not what I was expecting, but I’m glad I took the time to reread my notes before lunch. Otherwise they might not make a lot of sense. My typing is terrible and usually fraught with errors.

Rod peruses them intently, pausing only to order a drink and then lunch when our server comes by.

My nerves are skittering. I honestly can’t tell what he might be thinking. His expression is completely noncommittal.

My salad arrives, and he gestures for me to go ahead and eat.

I’m halfway done when he finally looks up.

I find myself holding my breath. Until, finally?—

He slowly nods. “Nice work, Diana.”

I swallow the bite I’ve been chewing. “Thank you.”

I expect him to elaborate, but instead, “When we get back to the office, I want you to familiarize yourself with our current portfolio. See what jumps out at you.”

I cock my head. “You’re not assigning me to anything?”

He smiles. “Not just yet. You’ll find a series of reports on your desk when we get back. Take a look, and then we’ll talk again first thing in the morning.”

“All right. Thank you.”

I don’t have to worry about small talk during the rest of lunch, as Rod enthralls me—or rather, seems to enthrall himself—with tales of his successes in the field.

I’m glad to be back in my office where I find the reports, meticulously organized by Rod’s assistant. They contain a wealth of information about each project’s scope, timeline, budget, and key milestones. I pore over them and absorb every detail.

One report in particular catches my eye—a comprehensive analysis of a residential development project in the heart of the city that aims to revitalize a historic neighborhood with a mix of modern condominiums, townhouses, and green spaces, all while preserving the area’s nineteenth-century charm and atmosphere.

The project sounds challenging, and I find myself thinking seriously about asking to be involved with it, but then I get to the next report.

The mountaintop resort—the reason I took this position.

My curiosity guides me, and I delve into the plans, poring over blueprints and sketches in search of inspiration and insight. The resort’s design is breathtaking—a seamless blend of rustic charm and modern luxury, with sweeping views of snow-capped peaks and lush pine forests stretching as far as the eye can see.

But as I study the plans more closely, a nagging sense of unease gnaws at the edges of my consciousness. There’s something missing—something crucial that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I trace my finger along the lines of the blueprint. What am I missing?

It’s not until I zoom in on the water supply system that I notice the flaw—a crucial pipeline that runs perilously close to the edge of a steep cliff, vulnerable to erosion and potential landslides.

This can’t be possible, can it? These are the best architects and designers in Denver. In Colorado. Some of the best in the whole country. Surely they’re aware of this. Perhaps I’m overthinking. They must have considered all possibilities and decided this was the best way to go. I mean, it’s unlikely that anything could happen.

But damn…

The top of a mountain is not the place to take shortcuts.

But what if…?

A single failure in the pipeline could disrupt the entire water supply to the resort, jeopardizing the safety and comfort of its visitors.

Are these plans final? I shuffle through everything. Nothing notes that they’re final, but they don’t say draft either.

With a sense of urgency, I sketch out alternative routes for the pipeline, mapping out a path that avoids the unstable terrain and minimizes the risk of catastrophic failure. It’s a challenging task, requiring careful consideration of topography, geology, and environmental impact, but I’m determined to find a solution that ensures the long-term sustainability and safety of the resort.

The problem?

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