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The elevator doors slide open on my old floor, and I step out into enemy territory.
Well, notenemyexactly. More like… complicated territory. Which, in all fairness, seems to be the only kind of territory I inhabit these days.
Kir’s receptionist, the lethally skinny blonde with the golden retriever personality, glances up and then away again as I march past her desk. She looks almost rattled, for some reason. Normally, I’d stop to ask what’s wrong, but I have pressing business with her boss right now.
Kir’s door is open. He’s standing behind his desk, shuffling papers with a furrowed brow. “Can I help you, Rae?”
“Yeah, actually.” I wave my phone at him with this morning’s crack of dawn email still glowing on the screen. “What the hell is this?”
He doesn’t even look up. “New initiative. It’s all in the email.”
“I read the email, Kir. What I want to know is why my name is on it.”
“Because you were selected.”
“Bywhom?”
He pauses mid-shuffle, and, at last, looks up at me. “The selection committee reviewed candidates from across the organization,” he says in the most Corporate B.S. tone I’ve ever heard from him. “Your performance metrics stood out.”
“Well, that’s a crock of shit.”
He raises a brow. “Pardon me?”
“I’ve been on the fiftieth floor for, like, two weeks. I haven’t done anything impressive. I’ve hardly done anything at all.” I cross my arms. “So either someone specifically requested me for this thing, or there’s been some kind of mistake.”
Kir sets down his portfolio. I’m still trying to find a chink in this veneer of Mr. CEO he’s putting on so I can spot some glimpse of the haunted man I spoke to on that rooftop just a week ago.
“I’ll explain everything in the kickoff meeting,” he says as he stands up. “Which starts in approximately three minutes. So if you wouldn’t mind following?—”
“Wait.” My gaze snags on something. Or rather, on the absence of something. “What happened to your plaque?”
There used to be an award mounted on the wall behind his desk. Some kind of leadership recognition from Harvard Business School, a complex piece of blown glass, polished brass, and pretentious Latin. I noticed it the first time I ever set foot in this office, back when I was just Kir’s assistant and the biggest complication in my life was whether to order Thai or sushi for his working lunch.
Now, there’s just an empty space. A rectangular shadow where the frame used to hang.
Kir shuts down completely. “We’re going to be late.”
“But—”
“Now, Rae.”
His hand closes around my elbow and he steers me toward the door. The receptionist watches us go with wide, worried eyes. Whatever explanation I’m owed, I’m clearly not getting it here.
The conference room is already half-full when we arrive. I recognize a few faces from various floors: a woman from Legal, a guy from Product Development, someone who I’m pretty sure works in Finance whose name escapes me entirely.
Kir releases my elbow and strides to the head of the table, all business. But there’s something off about him. A jittery energy buzzing beneath the polished exterior.
His fingers drum against the table’s edge. His gaze keeps flicking toward the door like he’s expecting the dang Kool-Aid Man to burst through at any minute.
“Thank you all for being here,” he begins. His voice is just a shade too fast, words tumbling over each other like he’sracing against some invisible clock. “This initiative represents a significant opportunity for cross-functional collaboration and?—”
The door swings open. Every head in the room swivels.
Lukas fills the doorway like a storm front rolling in. Today’s wardrobe is black suit, black tie, black rings, black watch. His presence sucks all the oxygen out of the room.
Kir’s face goes slack. The edgy energy drains away. “Father,” he acknowledges.
“Son,” Lukas replies.
