Blair turns her nose up at me as if I just told her that she has split ends. “Name?”
What name do I give? My real one or my hacker one?
Hunter only knows my hacker name, so go with that, I guess. But what if he found out my real name, and that’s what’s on the calendar in front of Blair? I don’t want to seem like a random person off the street trying to get a meeting with the head honcho.
The internal indecision is real.
“Abaddon.”
Blair’s face looks unimpressed. “I don’t have an Abaddon on Mr. Reed’s schedule. Sorry. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
My stomach flips, embarrassment mixed with horror crushes me. “He asked me to meet him here,” I attest.
“That’s what they all say,” she shoots back.
I feel like I’m free-falling down a never-ending mine shaft. “He offered me a job.”
“I’m sure he did.” Blair frowns and nods with mock sympathy. “Please, leave before I have to call security.”
My lips pinch. “But he gave me his card and everything.”
Blair reaches for the corded phone next to her. “That’s nice, but?—”
“Miss Keats,” a shrill voice keens.
Blair startles in her seat, dropping the receiver and spinning in her chair toward the thunder. “Mr. Kipling. Good morning.”
Heels click across the floor as a woman with rigid posture and sharp, aristocratic features makes her way to us. Her smile is thin and strategic, and her eyes are calculating.
“You know I’m to be informed when new hires arrive.” Her face seems friendly, but her tone sounds like a threat.
“Yes, ma’am,” Blair replies with downcast eyes.
“Don’t make the same mistake twice,” she bites, then turns to me. “Hello, I’m Clara Kipling, head of Human Resources. You must be Savannah Foster.”
How does she know my name?
It occurs to me that I should ask, but I get the feeling that any sliver of information in this woman’s hands can be turned into a weapon.
“That’s me,” I confirm.
“If you’ll come with me, please. I have paperwork I need you to fill out.” She walks away without waiting to make sure I’m following her.
Clara leads me to a set of six elevators and presses the button. I notice another elevator off to the side that no one seems to use, and I assume it’s for maintenance.
We go up to the fourth floor and into her office. The only word I can think of to describe the space is tidy. Everything has its place, and I doubt I’ll find a speck of dust anywhere.
Clara sits in her chair and pulls out some papers. “Let’s go over this, shall we?”
My lips twist into a frown as I sit down in a chair that looks like it should be comfortable but offers no such thing.
“First and last name,” Clara reads.
She knows my name, so why is she asking?
I keep my spine ramrod straight. “Savannah Foster.”
“Employment history?”
