AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden request. What meeting and who with? “Uh… Yes, that should be okay?—”
“Excellent. Please report to the twentieth floor at four fifteen. Thank you.”
The line went dead before I could ask what it was about, leaving me staring at the receiver, my palms clammy.
The twentieth floor.
No one had ever asked me to go there before. What business could I have on the twentieth floor?
Unless…
My mind rushed to a terrifying conclusion. Could it be a redundancy meeting? Had the restructure already begun? Neil Kingston had only just stepped into the role of CEO. If it was as I suspected, then I hated him even more. How could he start firing people so quickly?
Heartless monster.
“Who was that?” Brooke asked.
“I don’t know. Someone asked me to go to the twentieth floor.”
“Whoa. That sounds scary.”
“I’m a little worried. My heart’s pounding.”
She waved her hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“That’s not what you just said!”
“I overreacted. Probably.”
“You’re doing very little to reassure me right now.”
She patted my back. “You’ll be fine, and if not, I’ll be here to commiserate with you when you get back.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Elbows on my desk, I rested my head in my hands and groaned. I didn’t want to commiserate. I wanted all of this to be nothing more than a bad dream. No new boss, no restructure, no changes at all. I was content with the way things were.
The minutes dragged by until it was time to leave.
“Are you going to the mystery meeting now?” Brooke asked.
I nodded.
“Good luck.” She held up crossed fingers on both hands.
With a knot of dread in my stomach, I marched towards my fate. The knot tightened as the lift climbed—sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…
The ding of the doors opening made me jump in fright. After a deep breath to calm myself, I stepped out and absorbed my surroundings. I had arrived in a luxurious reception area with a curved desk and a grey stone floor that was so shiny I could see my reflection in it. The yellow hue of the downlights and a bright bouquet of alstroemerias in a glass vase on the desk warmed the otherwise monochromatic colour scheme. White fibre-optic lights displayed the company’s logo on the wall—a stylised snowy mountain peak.
I approached the receptionist, a tall young man with floppy brown hair. His name tag said James Campbell. “Hi, James. I’m Amelia Cross. I was told to come here?—”
“Yes. You may take a seat.” His voice was the same as I had heard on the phone—somehow energetic, yet bored at the same time. He seemed high-strung.
I dithered for a second, unsure whether I wanted to ask questions or just do as he said. When he fixed me an odd stare in response to my hesitation, I blurted my query. “Uh, could you please tell me what this is about? Who am I supposed to be meeting?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m sorry. Neil Kingston is going to see you.”
Neil Kingston.
