day. Now I knew why. They were discussing me.
Standing, Janice shouldered her bag and gave me a tight smile. "Mr. Stark wants to see you in his office."
"Me?" My stomach dropped, threatening to surge back up just as quickly and splatter the contents of a late lunch across Janice's tidy desk top. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Don't make him wait." Her lips pressed tightly together, the smile thinning. "Good luck, dear."
She stepped around her desk and quickly left me to my fate. Still holding the mail, I moved to the double doors, my hand up to knock when I heard the lock disengage. Stark had most of the building wired with security cameras. Only a few rooms, like his inner office, were private. From his desk, he could monitor every camera at Stark International, as well as live feeds from operations around the world.
My stomach did another flip as I pushed against the heavy steel. I stopped just inside the doors. With Stark's attention focused on his computer screen, I had a few seconds to study his expression for clues.
He didn't appear ready to blow a gasket. Maybe I was over-reacting, letting my fertile imagination run away with me. It could be a late fax or a dropped email, something relatively small for which I could plead for mercy.
His laser-like focus directed at his work, there was no hint of mercy in the way he held himself. If he hadn't just let me into the room, I would have sworn he had no idea I was there. Of course, that was part of his game and he was a master at it. A former military interrogator assigned to special operations, he had carved out a billion dollar company at the tip of a long, sharp knife after leaving active duty.
Volumes on military strategies, psychological warfare and interrogation techniques crowded the wall-to-wall bookshelf behind his desk. Cleaning crews weren't allowed in his office. As the junior secretary, that task fell to me, so I had read the title of every book in his office. I also borrowed copies of a few from my neighborhood library and had just finished reading the Kubark Counterintelligence Manual last night.
I counted up all the tactics Stark had already employed -- making me wait, letting me squirm in my own skin while I imagined the worst, acting like I didn't exist. We were at Confidence Down/Fear Up if I was correctly remembering last night's reading. If I hadn't felt sick to my stomach, I would have smiled or laughed. As it was, knowing a little about the techniques he had mastered long ago only made me worry more.
"Do you like your job, Mia?"
He still stared at his work, not me. One finger moved along his touch pad and then he clicked on something. I thought I detected a slight stiffening of his jaw as I delayed answering, but I was a good twenty feet away from him and his face usually looks hard as granite, so I couldn't be sure.
When his gaze cut in my direction, I quickly answered. "Yes, Mr. Stark."
He looked away, his attention re-focusing on his work. "Then put the mail down and stand in the corner."
Was he fucking serious? Stand in the corner like a little kid caught sneaking a slice of cake or refusing to do homework? I was twenty-six years old, not six! My grip on the mail tightened, my cheeks heating as my attitude slowly moved from worried to angry.
He looked at me again, the dark blue eyes like burnished steel, their thin edges slicing at my skin. "I don't like liars, Mia. Do it now or security will help you pack your things."
I looked around the room, not sure if I was contemplating obeying him or stalling.
"The table by the couch will do."
Shit. I closed my eyes, realizing I had been looking for someplace to put the mail, lying to myself that there was no way in hell I would actually obey such a ridiculous, demeaning order.
"Now, Mia."
I put the mail down and walked to the only corner that didn't have any furniture near it. As my fingers touched the cool surface of the wall, I heard the lock on his office door engage. I winced but
Standing, Janice shouldered her bag and gave me a tight smile. "Mr. Stark wants to see you in his office."
"Me?" My stomach dropped, threatening to surge back up just as quickly and splatter the contents of a late lunch across Janice's tidy desk top. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Don't make him wait." Her lips pressed tightly together, the smile thinning. "Good luck, dear."
She stepped around her desk and quickly left me to my fate. Still holding the mail, I moved to the double doors, my hand up to knock when I heard the lock disengage. Stark had most of the building wired with security cameras. Only a few rooms, like his inner office, were private. From his desk, he could monitor every camera at Stark International, as well as live feeds from operations around the world.
My stomach did another flip as I pushed against the heavy steel. I stopped just inside the doors. With Stark's attention focused on his computer screen, I had a few seconds to study his expression for clues.
He didn't appear ready to blow a gasket. Maybe I was over-reacting, letting my fertile imagination run away with me. It could be a late fax or a dropped email, something relatively small for which I could plead for mercy.
His laser-like focus directed at his work, there was no hint of mercy in the way he held himself. If he hadn't just let me into the room, I would have sworn he had no idea I was there. Of course, that was part of his game and he was a master at it. A former military interrogator assigned to special operations, he had carved out a billion dollar company at the tip of a long, sharp knife after leaving active duty.
Volumes on military strategies, psychological warfare and interrogation techniques crowded the wall-to-wall bookshelf behind his desk. Cleaning crews weren't allowed in his office. As the junior secretary, that task fell to me, so I had read the title of every book in his office. I also borrowed copies of a few from my neighborhood library and had just finished reading the Kubark Counterintelligence Manual last night.
I counted up all the tactics Stark had already employed -- making me wait, letting me squirm in my own skin while I imagined the worst, acting like I didn't exist. We were at Confidence Down/Fear Up if I was correctly remembering last night's reading. If I hadn't felt sick to my stomach, I would have smiled or laughed. As it was, knowing a little about the techniques he had mastered long ago only made me worry more.
"Do you like your job, Mia?"
He still stared at his work, not me. One finger moved along his touch pad and then he clicked on something. I thought I detected a slight stiffening of his jaw as I delayed answering, but I was a good twenty feet away from him and his face usually looks hard as granite, so I couldn't be sure.
When his gaze cut in my direction, I quickly answered. "Yes, Mr. Stark."
He looked away, his attention re-focusing on his work. "Then put the mail down and stand in the corner."
Was he fucking serious? Stand in the corner like a little kid caught sneaking a slice of cake or refusing to do homework? I was twenty-six years old, not six! My grip on the mail tightened, my cheeks heating as my attitude slowly moved from worried to angry.
He looked at me again, the dark blue eyes like burnished steel, their thin edges slicing at my skin. "I don't like liars, Mia. Do it now or security will help you pack your things."
I looked around the room, not sure if I was contemplating obeying him or stalling.
"The table by the couch will do."
Shit. I closed my eyes, realizing I had been looking for someplace to put the mail, lying to myself that there was no way in hell I would actually obey such a ridiculous, demeaning order.
"Now, Mia."
I put the mail down and walked to the only corner that didn't have any furniture near it. As my fingers touched the cool surface of the wall, I heard the lock on his office door engage. I winced but
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