Carmen wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. I barely managed to hold back the tears until I was out in the hallway. They poured out of me with a vengeance. I didn’t need to check; I knew the mascara was already streaming down my face.
At the end of the hallway, the elevator opened and out came a few men. Two of them—tall, buff, serious-looking—were dressed in simple polo shirts and jeans, and the third one, in the middle, looked like… Oh crap, the third one was Dorian Fisher.
As if my day—my week!—hadn’t been bad enough, I couldn’t face Dorian Fisher when I looked like such a hot mess. He was walking in mydirection, so I had to act fast.
I clocked the exit sign at the other end of the corridor, just above the door that led to the staircase. I lowered my head and speed walked in that direction, aware of the men’s voices behind me. I walked through, thinking I could finally relax on my own. But there was someone on the landing. I let out a startled yelp.
A woman leaned against the wall, looking like she was in the throes of a panic attack. She had short black hair and wore a pleated ivory skirt with a matching top. Her eyes were blasted wide, her knuckles clenched tight. She suppressed a scream as I stepped through the door and closed it behind me.
“I got lost!” she screamed, the terrified look on her face only intensifying. “I’m not here to—I’m going, I’m going!”
She glanced down the stairs but didn’t seem ready to move.
Then she really looked at me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
In response, I burst into pathetic little sobs.
Her face softened.
“You’re not wearing a badge.” She eyed me up and down. “You don’t work here?”
I shook my head.
“And you don’t work for Dorian Fisher?”
Another silent no from me.
“Do you need to sit down? There,” she added, holding on to my elbow and guiding me to the top of the stairs.
I sat down, and she did the same.
“How long have you been here?” I asked, eager for a distraction.
She looked at her watch, then sighed. “I—I needed to see him. I can’t—”
“Were you waiting for Dorian Fisher?”
“Why?”
I could practically see the red flashing light blaring inside her head.
“He just walked past.”
Her face fell. “Shit. Oh God.”
“I’m sorry.”
I had no idea what I was sorry for, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
“There,” she said, fishing a tissue out of her tote bag.
“How bad do I look?” I asked.
She cocked her head to the side, not denying that I did look awful but not piling on either.
I dabbed the tissue on my face.
