I glanced up at the clock. Ten minutes after eight. Slamming the folder closed, I turned my attention to the screen in front of me and pressed the power button.
“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” I mumbled as I picked up my purse and tucked it into my messenger bag. As I walked across the room, I spied the elevator doors sliding closed. “Hold the elevator.” I dashed across the room and caught the doors just before they closed. Once I wedged myself between them, they closed with a solid click.
I took a moment to catch my breath and realized I wasn’t alone in the car. A glimpse of high gloss polished shoes and well-tailored gray suit betrayed the wearer’s identity. My gaze snapped up and I locked eyes with Mr. Henderson, the owner of the publishing firm, Henderson and Asquith, and my boss.
“I hadn’t realized you were working late, sir.” I straightened, brushing the invisible lint from my lapel where his gaze lingered.
When he finally met my gaze, Mr. Henderson clasped his hands before him and angled his head slightly, the way a father would before unleashing holy hell on an errant child. As much as I wanted to avert my eyes, I couldn’t. I stood tall, forcing myself to square my shoulders and hold his gaze. Deep inside I wanted to hide. The man intimidated everyone he met, which is probably why he ran the company as well as he did. He arched his brow but said nothing and turned to face the elevator doors.
Clearing my throat, I thanked my lucky stars he chose to ignore me. I turned my attention back to the doors with a quick glance at the buttons to be sure we were going to the ground floor. My bag slipped from my shoulder as I shifted my weight, and the contents spilled across the carpet.
“Shit.” I grumbled as I knelt down to pick up my files and stuff them into my satchel. When I reached for my open notebook, my hand brushed across Mr. Henderson’s shoe. He stood on my notebook, staring down at it.
“Well, well…do we have an aspiring author in our midst?” He leaned down and picked up the notebook, which to my utter horror I realized contained my daily writing prompt entries. Mr. Henderson flipped through it, his brow arching higher with every page he turned.
I stuffed the last of my papers into the bag and stood. “May I have that back, please?” I asked him with a smile. “Sir.”
He stopped flipping pages, and I cringed as a grin stole across his lips. “Interesting.” He reached past me and pressed the HOLD button. The elevator car came to a halt between floors six and seven. “‘I would choke that man with that purple tie he favors so much. If I ever get my hands on him, I may very well bind and gag him with his entire collection of ties before I fuck him senseless and leave him begging me for more.'” Mr. Henderson met my gaze. “Is that so?”
“Sir, I can explain.” FUCK. I’m so fucking fired right now. Oh, damn. My messenger bag slid forgotten to the floor as Mr. Henderson dropped the notebook and pinned my hands to the wall above my head with one hand. The other loosened the aforementioned purple tie.
“You’ve given me the excuse I needed to punish you properly, Miss Finnegin.”
*purrs* I really enjoyed writing that one. I’m thinking it may be a starting point for a longer story later. What do you think?