Bookshelf and I stopped briefly in front of another door while he punched in a code, motioning for me with a beefy arm to precede him inside. Another man, the size of household furniture, sat behind a desk in the office, standing when he saw me.
“Ms. Donavan.” I had no idea how he knew my name. Presumably, bookshelf had seen it on my employee badge and Jedi mind-tricked it into this guy’s head, or maybe it was just surveillance of their hallway. “You said you have an incident to report?”
I cleared my throat, taking a surreptitious look around his office. There was absolutely nothing personal in sight. I didn’t even know if the office belonged to him or if it was a general security office. There were more screens showing various parts of the building, a black glass desk, and three leather chairs.
“Yes, I do.” I took a deep breath, wondering if they were about to think I was the crazy one. “I was attacked in Mr. Williams’s office the day before yesterday.”
Both men’s eyes snapped to mine. Bookshelf spoke up first. “Attacked?”
“Yes, by a redheaded woman who claimed to be Mr. Williams’s secretary,” I said. “I’m his secretary though.”
They nodded. “Tell us what happened.”
After offering me a seat, which I declined, they listened carefully to every word I said describing what happened. When I was done, they exchanged a glance. “We’ll keep an eye out. We’ve had complaints about a pretty redhead that fit your description before, and all have come from the Williams company.”
At least they didn’t think I was lying, or crazy. It felt like a hundred-pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Some of my stress melted away as I listened to them assuring me they would look into the incident and take it up with the powers that be, but my confusion was melting. If the same woman was here before, causing trouble, how had she gotten in? And why hadn’t they stopped her when she came back?
“Rest assured, Ms. Donavan. Your safety is our first priority,” Bookshelf said when our meeting was over, and he walked me to the elevators. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention.”
“No problem.” I jabbed the call button and waited for the car to arrive, waving at Bookshelf who was dutifully waiting for the elevator doors to close before leaving. “See you around.”
My fears from earlier pricked at me with their tiny little evil pitchforks, making my footsteps feel heavy as I approached my office. I held my breath and opened my door, terrified I was going to find Psycho Jannie waiting in my office. Poking the door open before stepping inside, I nearly fainted when I saw there was a person behind my desk.
But it wasn’t Jannie. It was Jeremiah. He was sitting in my chair with his heels up on my desk like he owned the place, which I guess he kind of did. His polished leather shoes looked brand new where they rested beside my keyboard. I resisted the urge to knock his feet off. Expensive new shoes or not, they shouldn’t be anywhere near my desk.
“Welcome back,” he said dryly, looking gorgeous as ever but not pleased at all. His arms were loosely crossed over his chest, and his chin tucked down. He didn’t give me time to answer before he carried on. “I hired you less than a month ago.”
A statement, not a question. I nodded anyway, folding my own arms. It looked like he was on the warpath and I braced myself for it, resolving to listen to what he had to say before sharing some choice thoughts of my own.
“I would’ve expected you to last at least a month before you started calling in sick and missing work.” He lifted a black eyebrow, tilting his head almost mockingly. “I have to tell you, Ms. Donavan. Missing work in your first couple of weeks doesn’t exactly meet my standards.”
Doesn’t meet his standards? He could go fuck himself. His so-called standards were what landed us in this mess in the first place, assuming the woman really was his ex-secretary. “We have something in common then because being harassed at work by a psychotic bitch doesn’t meet my standards either.”
Sick days existed so you could call in sick, and I was sick yesterday. Mentally, if not physically. He, on the other hand, had no leg to stand on. Game on, Williams. If this was the way he wanted to have this out, he could bring it on.