It didn’t.
She let out a shriek that hurt my eardrums and flung herself around the desk, chasing me around it. What the hell was wrong with her?
Her dress billowed behind her as we rounded the desk time and time again. When she couldn’t catch me, she finally grabbed the photo of Jack on Jeremiah’s desk and hurled it at me.
I was too shocked to do anything but duck before the frame shattered against the far wall of the office. It flew right by my ear. I backed away, wondering how I was going to hail security. Clearly, she was unhinged.
Jeremiah told me about a panic button in each office, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember where he said it was. Focus, Steph. Think. Remember.
“You call yourself his secretary?” the woman yelled, so shrill it was a wonder the windows didn’t shatter. She was no laughing matter though. If I’d ever seen anyone look murderous, it was her. “You’re not his fucking secretary, I am. Jannie. Ask anyone. This office next door is mine, and so is the man who occupies this one!”
Ah, crap. The ex-secretary. What she was saying made no sense, since she was fired weeks before I started, but at least now I knew who I was dealing with. A shiver ran down my spine. There was something wrong with this woman, and somehow, I was in her crosshairs.
I held up my hands, showing her I meant no harm. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake, I—”
She cut me off, pointing a finger at me as she screamed. Her words made my skin crawl. Not because what she said was more terrifying than a variety of threats people used jokingly every day, but because of the way she looked when she said it.
This was no empty threat. She was dead. Fucking. Serious. “You better watch your back, bitch. There’s been no mistake. Jeremiah will chew you up and spit you out when he’s done with you. And if he doesn’t, I will.”