Around three o’clock, I make a decision. I’ve been putting it off all day, telling myself there are more pressing matters. But the truth is simpler than that.
I want to see her.
I take the elevator down to the third floor and make my way through the analytics department. A few employees scramble to look busy as I pass. Others stare openly, and their conversations die mid-sentence. The new boss, walking the floors. Probably unprecedented around here.
Kirsten doesn’t notice me at first. She’s hunched over her desk, completely absorbed in whatever’s on her screen. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and she’s wearing a simple blouse and dark slacks. Nothing fancy. Nothing that draws attention.
She’s trying to be invisible, I realize. Trying to blend into the background so no one looks too closely.
I stop beside her desk. “Ms. Berry.”
She startles, then catches herself. Her composure slides back into place so quickly I almost miss the crack. “Mr. Karpov.”
The formality is intentional. A reminder that we’re strangers here. That whatever exists between us doesn’t exist within these walls.
“I need to speak with you in my office. There’s a matter regarding the transition that requires your input.”
A few of her coworkers glance over. One woman two desks down doesn’t even pretend not to eavesdrop.
“Of course,” Kirsten replies coolly. “Lead the way.”
She follows me to the elevator, taking care to maintain a professional distance. We don’t speak until the doors close, and we’re alone.
The pretense drops the second the doors slide shut. “What do you want?”
“I’m promoting you.”
She blinks. “What?”
“You’re being moved to a new position. Executive analyst, reporting directly to me. Significant salary increase, better benefits, and your own desk in my office.”
“Absolutely not.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“I don’t care what it was. I’m not going to sit in your office all day like some kind of pet. People will talk. I don’t want anyone here to know about our so-called marriage, Menlow. They’ll assume I’m sleeping with you to get ahead.”
“Let them assume whatever they want.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one whose reputation will be destroyed. You’re not the one who’ll have to hear the whispers every time you walk down the hall.”
The elevator dings. I step out onto my floor, and after a moment, she follows.
“This isn’t about the promotion, is it?” she demands as we walk. “This is about control. You want me where you can watch my every move.”
“Partially,” I admit.
“At least you’re honest about it.”
I open my office door and gesture for her to enter. “I also need someone who understands how this company actually operates. The employees, the processes, and the politics. Someone who can tell me where the bodies are buried.”
She crosses her arms. “And you think that’s me?”
“I’ve read your file. Top marks in every performance review. Three separate recommendations for promotion, all ignored because you don’t play politics.” I settle into my chair. “You’re overqualified for your current position. You have been since the day you started.”
“You’ve been here less than a week. How do you know any of that?”
“I do my research.” I nod toward the chair across from me. “Sit. Please.”
