The room plummets into a tense silence.
I’m about five seconds from wetting my pants. I attempt speech but only manage a silent O of panic.
Andy’s face turns a shade of white that matches his shirt. “Ahhh, Mr. Wolfe, that’s just—”
Wolfe silences Andy’s rambling with a raised palm. “You know,” he says, his voice taking on a dark edge. “I’ve got my finger on the pulse of every artery in this company. Sales. Accounts. Hotel staff. Marketing. Security. I know everything and everyone that moves through this company. Every single dollar. Every single person. And yet, there’s always this one department that thinks it can play by its own rules.”
His piercing gaze latches onto me. “The IT department.”
I stand frozen, trapped in a silent scream, my heart having a party in my body that I’m not invited to.
“You’re the joker in my otherwise flawless deck,” he sneers.
Those predatory eyes are still trained on me. Does he mean the entire IT department or just me?I’m the joker?
“It’s time I had a closer look.”Closersounds like it might involve a chainsaw.
Beside him, Andy mimics Wolfe’s ramrod posture in a desperate bid to match his towering aura. The result is less alpha wolf, more skittish Chihuahua. Andy looks ready to wet his pants too.
“Ah, sir,” he squeaks out, his voice in stark contrast to Wolfe’s deep baritone. “We abide by the rule book! You won’t find a more company-minded, er, committed team than us, sir.” Without pausing for a breath, he bulldozes on, “There’s no need to think of us as the black sheep! We embrace the company culture here, Mr. Wolfe! Or should I say, JP, sir? Can I call you JP, JP?”
Mr. Wolfe—or JP—glares at Andy in a way that suggests imminent job termination.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Seems like I’ve let the tech playground run wild for too long. It’s time I get a little more acquainted.” His predatory gaze returns to me, and I feel my fight-or-flight response kick in. “You. And who might you be?”
“Lucy,” Andy jumps in, his panicked eyes sending a clear SOS:Girl, you better pull your shit together.
Anxiety swells up, threatening to choke me. I’m not a creature you can put on the spot. Being the sole focus of Wolfe’s unwavering attention may be some employees’ fantasy.
But not mine.
And certainly not like this.
“Um, hello! Yes, I’m Lucy,” I stammer, hitting all my least favorite activities at once—self-introduction, impromptu speech, and being caught red-handed with a caricatured voodoo doll of the boss.
“I, uh, I’m a Senior Graphic Designer here. I worked on the Xamidimura project. And, um, comic books… they’re my thing,” I blurt out. “That’s what inspired the, um, wolfy artwork.”
The deafening, prolonged silence stretches out, amplifying my embarrassment to unprecedented heights.
Smooth move, Lucy, real smooth.
“Theartworkyou’re unsuccessfully hiding behind your back?” he growls.
I meekly place the sketch back on my desk with a strained smile. “Not anymore.”
A smothered giggle sneaks out from Taylor. “That’s right. Lucy even dresses up as the Hulk!”
“She-Hulk,” I correct her instantly, not thinking it through. Is the window cleaner’s cart still hanging outside for a quick escape?
I glance over to see her smirking and hate her a little bit more.
My comic book collection might have been a lousy cover-up attempt, but it’s also a sacred truth. Going to Comic Con with my dad every year since I was four is one of the few precious memories I have left of him.
“Is that so.” Wolfe’s expression remains unreadable, his deep brown eyes are practically black as they bore into me.
I bite my lip and look away, distraught.
I’ve fucked up with a capital F. I’ve landed myself in the same bumbling idiot category as Andy. In Wolfe’s eyes, I’m a dirty doodling, She-Hulk wannabe. And I didn’t even doodle the damn cartoon.
