I mentally scanned my schedule. “Negative.”
“Splendid. Wait for me downstairs.”
I paused momentarily. “Are we attending a meeting?”
Richard finally lifted his gaze. “No.”
“A client dinner?” “No.”
“Where are we heading, then?”
He redirected his focus back to the documents. “Just be downstairs when the clock strikes four.”
Something in his tone set me slightly on edge. “Will anyone else be joining us?”
“No. Just the two of us.”
I departed from his office in a state of confusion. In isolation, that exchange likely would not have troubled me. Yet Tuesday brought its own developments. As I was making my way toward the accounting division, I caught sight of the department head exiting Richard’s suite.
She was clutching several folders—and one of them happened to be mine, with my full name clearly printed upon the tab. She noticed me observing her and promptly slid that particular folder beneath the others.
“Is everything alright?” I inquired.
“Of course.” Her reply arrived far too swiftly.
That marked the precise moment I genuinely began to question whether something was amiss. By Wednesday, Richard had placed calls to the corporate attorney on two separate occasions.
