And the moment she does, Karen Bartley appears at the door to my office like a rusted knife someone has decided to display instead of throw away. She glides toward us, immaculate as ever: sleek blonde bob, perfect posture, a smile that never reaches her eyes. The air shifts palpably.
She stops at the end of my desk, looking April up and down with the casual entitlement of someone who believes she owns this building. April stays composed, too composed, like she’s bracing.
Karen’s gaze drifts to me, and her smile sharpens.
“Well,” she says. “It seems Miss Swan has mastered a very effective advancement strategy.”
The words land with a sick little thud.
I hear it. April’s inhale, tiny and controlled. I see the flicker in her eyes behind her glasses, the way her spine goes rigid. My vision narrows.
I don’t tolerate cruelty. Not to her.
Karen’s smile widens as if she can taste blood. “I suppose it’s inspirational, really,” she continues. “A reminder that there are many paths to success if one is…willing.”
Something in me snaps cleanly. “Stop,” I say.
The single word is quiet, but it cuts through the room like a blade.
Karen blinks, still smiling. “Anthony?—”
“I said stop.” I push out of my chair and step forward. “You will not speak about April that way. Not in my building. Not ever.”
April’s eyes go wide. Karen’s smile falters, just slightly.
“How touching,” she says, recovering quickly. “Defensive, even.”
I lean in, just enough that she can hear me without raising my voice further. “If you want to challenge me, you do it withnumbers,” I say. “With strategy. With competence. Not with petty insinuations about an employee.”
Karen’s eyes flash. “Employee?” She repeats, like it’s an insult.
Fuck.I know exactly where she’s going. “Enough,” I say again, and this time I don’t bother softening it.
Karen’s gaze flicks to April, then back to me. She tilts her head, voice bright with false innocence. “What?” she asks. “Don’t want to call her what she is while in the office?”
“April, go to your office.” I take another step toward Karen. “I will forcibly remove you?—”
Karen’s smile becomes cruel again. “But I haven’t gotten to give my congratulations.”
“I don’t want your congratulations,” April mutters. “And we’re trying not to inform the entire floor of my pregnancy, so if you could try not to speak about?—”
“Oh, no, sweetheart, I meant about your engagement,” Karen says, and I feel my stomach sink into oblivion.
April goes utterly still beside me, like the words have turned her into stone. “What?”
And I—I feel something I haven’t felt in years.
Flustered. Off-balance.
Because Karen just did what she does best. She took a private maneuver and made it public.
Karen’s eyes gleam. “Oh.” She pretends to be surprised. “He didn’t tell you he told the board?”
I turn sharply. “Karen.”
She smiles like she’s won something. “Congratulations,” she says, saccharine. “Truly.”
I don’t know what to do as walks away, heels clicking, leaving the sound of her victory behind her like a trail of perfume. I don’t stop her; I don’t run her down; I don’t call security or throw her through a fucking window like I’d like to.
