Page 2 of Breathe for Me

Yeesh. The clock is ticking on Danny.

A bolt of sympathy goes through me—I’m not a monster, okay?—but then I straighten against the break room door, my heart lurching faster. My teeth dig into my thumb knuckle, hard enough to sting.

Levi Laurent’s assistant is about to get fired. There will be an opening on the top floor, up there withhim.

Wrenching my hand away from my mouth, I tug my skirt straight. A plan forms in the back of my mind.

The clipboard is shoved back, the boss’s path resumed. He cuts between a row of cubicles, calling: “Do it again. And check the figures this time.” His crowd of admirers scatter like geese, feathers ruffled and eyes wide, but they won’t blame him for any harsh words. Because he’s such a dreamy genius, remember?

Bleurgh.

Why is he here? There’s not much on this floor except admin staff, a row of copiers, and a water cooler. A few potted plants sag against the walls, their leaves pale with lack of sunshine. Sometimes I take pity on them, dragging them to the nearest window, but some asshole keeps moving them back.

Mr Laurent’s path brings him past the break room. I paste a polite smile on my face as he gets closer, trying to wipe away my rage and loathing. But I’m not sure I do a great job, because as he passes, the boss glances up—and our eyes meet.

He frowns.

And…heat.Searing heat crawls up my throat and cheeks. My heart pounds harder. My belly flutters, and my hands are slick as the room fades away. There’s no shrill beep of copiers; no rattle of keyboards. Only the rasp of my breath. I’m woozy.

This is what hate feels like.

He’s still staring as he draws level. I’m trapped, pinned by his gaze like a butterfly to a cork board. Or no, screw that, like something more dangerous…

Pinned like a scorpion with a dagger. Yeah.

Mr Laurent finally looks away, and I sag against the wood, light-headed. His broad shoulders slip through the doorway to a lawyer’s office, and the whole room can breathe again.

God, I hate this guy.

“You get the figures!” A pair of accountants bicker in the middle of the room, shoving the clipboard back and forth like they’re not grown-ass men. “Or better yet, wait until Mr Laurent hires an assistant with half a brain—”

I’ve heard enough. My back is damp under my blouse as I peel myself off the door. Time to write a flawless letter about how much IloveIgnis Innovations and how I’d simplydiefor a permanent role. How it’s my life’s purpose to fetch a grumpy man coffee. Etc, etc, barf, barf.

Sorry, Danny. But I promise: I’ll make him suffer for both of us.

Two

Levi

Idon’t enjoy firing staff, but it does come with a rush. That fresh, spring-cleaning feeling. Most of my work with Ignis will take years to complete, and our forecasts stretch over decades rather than days, so being able to wrap a task up in minutes is a rare treat.

Goodbye, useless employee.

I’m pleased with this week’s progress. Fire Daniel: check. Hire a new assistant: check. Hide my double take when she steps into my office on her first morning: check… ish.

According to HR, Georgina came here as an intern two weeks ago, then wrote a letter begging for a more permanent role. They used the words ‘hero worship’ when they explained who they’d hired, but if she does worship me, I’ve yet to see it.

If anything, she’s… terse.

“Good morning, Mr Laurent. I’ve brought your coffee.”

My new assistant sidles through my office doorway, and just like the last two days, the words are all correct, but something is off. I frown, the schematics for a new design briefly forgotten. The papers are spread over my desk, their corners curling, but my eyes are fixed on the young woman strolling across the room.

There’s plenty of time to look. My office covers the whole top floor—except for her desk, tucked out there by the elevator.

Fabric swishes around her thighs as she walks. She’s wearing a moss green dress: knee length, nipped in at the waist. Appropriate for the office, but… distracting. With that long blonde hair braided over one shoulder and her crimson pout, I may need to rethink the Ignis dress code.

We need everyone’s blood to stay firmly in their brains.

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