Chapter 2 - The Espresso Machine
The next morning, the fourteenth floor was in a state of absolute chaos.
Harper walked out of the elevator carrying her usual leaking paper cup of burned street coffee.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Right in the middle of the dingy break room sat a massive, gleaming chrome espresso machine.
It looked like an alien spaceship had crash-landed onto the stained Formica counter.
A man in a crisp white chef's coat was standing behind it, expertly frothing milk.
Next to the machine was a three-tiered glass display case filled with fresh, artisanal pastries.
“What is happening?” Harper whispered to her coworker, Sarah, who was aggressively eating a chocolate croissant.
“Corporate sent it,” Sarah mumbled through a mouthful of pastry.
“Apparently, they want to boost morale or something.”
Sarah pointed a sticky finger at the barista.
“That guy says he’s going to be here every single morning.”
Harper looked at the shiny machine and then remembered the tall, terrifyingly handsome man in the charcoal suit.
Install a professional espresso machine in the fourteenth-floor break room.
He had said that yesterday in the elevator.
She had thought it was a bizarre joke.
Suddenly, a hush fell over the office floor.
Harper turned around.
The manager’s office door was wide open, and two men in dark suits were packing David’s belongings into cardboard boxes.
David was nowhere to be seen.
The director of HR was standing by the cubicles, looking extremely pale and sweaty.
“Listen up, everyone,” the HR director announced, his voice trembling slightly.
“David has decided to pursue other opportunities outside of the marketing industry.”
A collective gasp echoed through the room.
David had been a tyrant who bragged endlessly about never leaving this agency.
“Furthermore,” the HR director continued, swallowing hard.
“Harper Davis’s perfume campaign design has been approved by the executive board without a single revision.”
Harper felt the paper coffee cup slip from her fingers.
It hit the carpet with a dull thud, splashing brown liquid everywhere.
Nobody cared.
They were all staring at her as if she possessed some kind of dark magic.
She stepped back, her mind racing at a million miles an hour.
The man in the elevator.
The logistics guy with the bleeding face and the suit that cost more than her annual salary.
He wasn't just a supply chain manager.
She rushed back to the elevator bank and pressed the call button frantically.
She waited for five minutes, but the doors to the private car remained firmly shut.
Up on the forty-second floor, Victor sat behind his massive mahogany desk.
He was watching the security camera feed from the fourteenth-floor break room on his tablet.
He saw Harper drop her coffee.
He saw the realization wash over her expressive face.
Arthur stood quietly by the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
“The manager has been removed, sir,” Arthur reported.
“He signed the severance agreement and agreed to move to Ohio.”
Victor did not look up from the screen.
“Good.”
“Sir, if I may speak freely,” Arthur began, choosing his words with extreme caution.
“Speak.”
“Declan Reeve’s men are furious about the incident at the docks.”
Arthur took a step closer to the desk.
“They are actively monitoring this building to find your vulnerabilities.”
Victor finally looked up, his eyes cold and empty.
“I do not have vulnerabilities, Arthur.”
“Of course not, sir,” Arthur replied smoothly.
“But if they notice you making unauthorized stops on a floor full of civilian employees, they might draw incorrect conclusions.”
Victor leaned back in his leather chair.
He knew Arthur was right.
In his world, any change in routine was a sign of weakness.
And weakness invited death.
He needed to stay away from the girl with the torn sneakers and the sharp tongue.
He needed to let her fade back into the background of his massive, invisible empire.
Victor reached out and turned the tablet face down on the desk.
“Increase security in the lobby,” Victor ordered.
“And assign two of our best men to watch the exits of the fourteenth floor.”
Arthur nodded.
“To protect the civilians, sir?”
May you like
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“To protect her.”
