“I’m not here to play it safe, Mr. Williams.”
Surprise flickers across his face for a moment, then it’s gone, replaced by that impenetrable mask.
“You’re dismissed.”
I walk to the door, pulse racing, wondering if I’ve just won or committed career suicide.
“Ms. Rodgers.”
I turn back.
“Don’t make me regret hiring you.”
“I won’t.”
The door closes behind me, and I lean against it momentarily, breathing hard. My hands are shaking.
I did not just argue with my boss. I did not just refuse a direct order. I did not just stand close enough to him to feel the heat radiating off his body.
Oh yes I did.
And I’m not sorry.
Back at my desk, I reopen the files and spend the rest of the day refining details, strengthening concepts, polishing the work until it gleams. The illustrations stay. The watercolor effect stays. The handwritten tagline stays.
By five o’clock, I have something even better than the original.
I send it to him without a cover email. The work speaks for itself.
My phone buzzes almost immediately with a text from Trevor.
T:Family reunion this weekend. You coming?
I smile despite everything. Trevor and his terrible timing.
Me:Wouldn’t miss it. Mom threatened to disown me if I skippedagain.
T:Good. I’m bringing Daniel. You’ll finally meet him.
Oh, right. Daniel. The ‘brilliant, driven, saved my ass during crisis’ guy Trevor is always going on about. Hopefully, he's a better Daniel than the one across from me.
Me:Great. Can’t wait.
I set my phone down, staring at my boss's office.
Through the glass walls, Mr. Stranger is standing at his window, phone pressed to his ear. As if sensing my gaze, he turns. Our eyes meet across the forty feet of space. He doesn’t look away. Neither do I. Then he turns back to his call, dismissing me without a word.
I force myself to look at my screen for five minutes before my phone buzzes again.
From:Daniel Williams.
Subject: RE: Harrington Hotels Concepts - Revised.
I click it open, heart in my throat.
We'll present the original version to the client on Friday. Well done.
I exhale slowly, something loosening in my chest.
