Page 15 of Take It Offline

“Morning, sunshine.”

I say nothing, keeping my eyes fixed on the number panel.

He hums. It’s a deep rumble. “Not a morning person?”

“I’m not talking to you.”

Even his laugh is smug: rich and loud and confident. “Could’ve fooled me.”

It takes willpower, but I won’t look at him. Even though I can feel the heat of his gaze on my skin as sure as if he were touching me.

It’s been two torturous weeks of Charlie Walker and that damn smile sitting opposite me.

There used to be a buffer of eight floors between us.

I miss that buffer.

“Good morning,” I say, sounding anything but good.

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed again? I know a few tricks for that.”

I finally give in to temptation, and dammit, he looks good.

Do they still give keys to the city as rewards for community contributions? Because whoever tailored Charlie’s pants deserves one. Or an honorary knighthood.

If a petition is needed, I have no doubt that everyone in this building would sign it.

“I’m shocked anyone sticks around that long.” The instant the words are out, I want to take them back. I shouldn’t even be thinking about his love life. It’s none of my business. But it shuts him up.

I stare at the elevator doors, my stomach churning with guilt.

Now that I’ve seen him interact with other people, I understand exactly what Ivy was talking about. The man is so charming, I doubt he needs any help warming his bed. Hell, knowing my luck, he secretly has a heart of gold and saves puppies in his spare time.

Yeah, and I’m the next queen of Atlantis.

Subject: RE: Document group terminology

Emma, I’ve reviewed the wording you sent through. I’m disappointed. The goal of simplifying the process appears to mean “remove all boundaries,” and while I’m sure Engineering will be pleased that Controlled Documents are relatively unscathed, there seems to be a large disconnect where highly sensitive contractual information exists. I would have expected you to understand this, but perhaps we need to get everyone in a room to realign expectations.

The response from the Procurements lead is damning and, frankly, confusing. If he’d read the procedure, he would have seen the detailed note I left in the second paragraph, outlining how contractual information is universally considered as a confidential class document, and thus, is the sole exception to the managed rule.

So why does his email—with Roberts cc’d in, because why not make this worse?—sound like I threatened to take his firstborn son?

Five years in, and it still shocks me how often women in this field receive emails like this.

We don’t get grace for errors. We don’t get friendly reminders. We get ignored, talked over, debated, corrected, explained to.Managed.

Returning to my original email, I open the link to the document and immediately see the problem.

That very important paragraph I wrote is gone.

One guess who is responsible.

Speaking of evil, Charlie’s voice catches my attention from outside of Roberts’s office. Look at them, chatting away, all buddy-buddy. Whatever Charlie is saying, Roberts is pleased. The man is smiling. I didn’t even know his face could do that.

It’s been less than a month, and he’s already got Roberts eating out of the palm of his hand.

I hate how Charlie has no trouble being heard. I hate how easy it is for him to be respected. If he sits quietly in a meeting, he’s assessing and thoughtful.

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