Page 72 of Savage Suit
“Coming right up,” Billy said. He whispered to the man next to him, then broke away from the line of servers.
As Megan lifted her tray and turned toward the table, the anticipation of my omelet and the bitter, rich flavor of my coffee had me almost drooling. I was hungrier than I thought.
We found a table for two next to a window. I barely had time to enjoy the view before Billy bustled over, carrying a tray with my omelet, two rolled white napkins, a canned Coke and a glass for Megan, and my coffee.
“Do you need anything else?” Billy asked after serving us.
“No,” I responded because he was looking at me. “The omelet smells delicious.” The wafting steam teased my senses.
He smiled. “I personally prepared it.”
“Thank you,” I said, unwrapping my napkin and revealing the cutlery. “It is much appreciated. I’m starving.” I laid the napkin on my lap and picked up the fork.
Billy lingered.
Stabbing a piece of egg that dripped with cheese and held bits of spinach, ham, and parsley, I stuffed it into my mouth, then washed it down with coffee. “It is every bit as good as it smells, Billy,” I said truthfully.
“Just the way you like it?” he asked, visibly sagging with relief.
“It’s delicious, though I wish onions and mushrooms had been available.”
He swallowed. “I can take that one away and prepare a fresh one for you.”
Instead of eating more of my omelet, I paused, suspending my hand in mid-air. “This is fine. I didn’t ask for either and you aren’t a mind reader.”
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. Hagen, exactly right.” He dug into his pocket and came up with a card. “I’m line manager, ma’am. If you want anything special for the day, contact me and I’ll see that you get it. If you’re too swamped to come to the cafeteria, I’ll be happy to serve you in your office. This is my card. It has my cell number, email, and my office number with direct extension—”
“Ryan won’t be in one of the open areas,” Megan inserted. She’d been busily eating as if she couldn’t care less about my exchange with Billy. “She has a private office, so only your direct extension is needed.”
“Oh, Jesus.” His eyes bulged, beads of sweat popping out on his brow. A private office for a new hire meant something.
She offered a small smile, but her eyes gleamed with malice.
I should’ve enjoyed the asshole’s misery. “I don’t have a phone line in the office.” I plucked the card from his fingers since yellow-bellied horror overtook him. Shoving another bite into my mouth, I laid my fork on my plate, took my cell phone from my pocket, then snapped a photo of the card. “Do either of you have a pen?”
Billy produced one in seconds.
I took it from him and wrote my email and cell number on the card, then handed both back to him. “I prefer texting,” I admitted. “For the time being, I only have the company email—”
“It hasn’t been activated yet,” Megan informed me. “I was just processing your contract when Noah called and said you were all mine for a few hours. Your company email will be available by the end of tomorrow. You’ll also receive your business cards and your office lines with pre-programmed direct extensions to Noah and Rosa. The rest of us plebeians have four-digit extensions.” She returned to eating.
Billy was as white as a sheet. Despite the sheer assholery of almost everyone here, my position in the company was more prestigious than I realized. Then, it came to me. I was a step away from executive status, only needing discretionary hiring and firing powers and several people under me.
“Billy?” I said, feeling a little guilty at how I’d snapped at him. “We got off on the wrong foot. You’re welcome to call me Ryan. I was angry over your attitude.”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
He wasn’t so solicitous because of what I’d said. It was because Noah had hired me. From now on, it would draw a line between us. He would bend over backward to please me, fearing reprisal. And I would forever suspect his solicitousness was because he didn’t want to incur Noah’s wrath, not because Billy liked or respected me.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you both to enjoy your meal.”
Seconds later, he scampered away. My omelet had lingering warmth, so I dug in before it grew cold.
“I wonder where Noah went,” Megan said as she twirled the last of her pasta around her fork and brought the food to her mouth.
She said his name with such casualness. It wasn’t my place to comment, but it made me wonder at the status of their relationship.
“Me, too,” I confessed, draining the last of my coffee. “I hope everything’s alright. It sounded like an emergency,” I replied after a moment, apprehension tinging my words even as doubt crept into me.
