“No,” I groaned.
“Good to hear that,” he said. “I seem to be missing the forecast files you were working on earlier.”
“They’re still on the table.”
“Not the copies. The actual mockups, Miss Stone.”
They’re probably in my bag…
I said nothing.
“Did you take them home with you by chance?” he asked.
Hang up on him. Use the little energy you have left and end this.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes, Miss Stone,” he said. “You’ll need to bring them back to the office.”
“Okay,” I managed. “I’ll bring them later this morning.”
“You’ll bring themnow.” His voice was terse. “I need them right now.”
I tensed, waiting for him to laugh. To admit he wasn’t this cruel.
“When you get here, you’ll also need to clear up a few notes on your latest report,” he said. “I’m struggling to read your messy handwriting.”
“Mr. Cross, with all disrespect?—”
“You meanduerespect?”
No…
“I’m running on fumes at this moment, and I could’ve sworn I just helped you with a five-hundred-million-dollar problem.”
“You helped me by doing what? Breathing in the room?” he asked. “Feel free to pick up an energy drink on your way here.”
“I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since I started working under you.”
“Get used to that,” he said. “Sleep is for the weak.”
“It’s also for human beings.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That I really need to get some rest, and if you want to be compassionate?—”
“Why would someone you called an ‘asshole’ be compassionate, Miss Stone?” he cut me off, and I gasped.
“We can add ‘unemployed’ to the category that sleep-needy people fall under, if you like, because if you’re not here in forty minutes with those files, you won’t have a job anymore.”
The line went dead before I could say another word.
SEVENTEEN
HARRISON
Memo: “Thank You” from Harrison Cross
It has come to my attention that certain employees feel that I don’t appreciate your hard work, so let me be clear: that’s not true.
