Page 14 of Fierce

Special Delivery

I wanted to run. But I didn’t.

Hemi stood looking at me, the print of my small hand standing out on his cheek. I stood, my breathing unsteady and clearly audible in the quiet room, and stared back at him. Something had happened to my peripheral vision. It had narrowed so I saw only him, through a red mist of something very much like rage.

Slowly, he raised his hand to his cheek. And smiled.

“So,” he said. “That didn’t go exactly the way I’d planned.”

I was so surprised, I laughed, a short, angry sound that bounced off the hard surfaces of the office. “Well, if you go around saying things like that to women, a fair number of them are going to slap your face.”

“You might be surprised.”

“And again, that wouldn’t be my first choice of answer.”

He tilted his head the smallest bit. His hand had dropped again, and once more, he was still.

“If you’re trying to make me feel special,” I elaborated, “here’s a hint. That one didn’t work either. But then, you clearly aren’t trying to make me feel special. As you say—it isn’t necessary. You follow your own rules. Hooray for you. But that doesn’t mean I have to follow them.”

“It doesn’t, eh.” His eyes had kindled again, and there was no smile now.

“No. It doesn’t.” I crouched down and picked up my notebook and pen from the floor, then stood again. “I don’t think it was very fair of you to let me quit my job and jeopardize my family’s security without telling me the rules, though. For the record.”

“Who said I played fair?” His voice was dangerously quiet.

“Nobody.” I faced him across the desk again. “Nobody. Congratulations.”

I walked out. All that distance again in reverse, knowing he was watching me, half-expecting him to come after me, for the tiger to pounce from behind and drag me back.

As a composure-maintaining exercise, the whole thing was pretty much a dead loss. And I still had to go back down to my office and wait for the axe to fall.

Well, if all I had was my pride, I was going to hang onto it. Hemi didn’t follow me, and I marched through the doors of the Publicity Department and back to my cube.

When I passed Nathan, though, he wheeled himself rapidly across his plastic chair mat and hissed at me.

“Hope.” He jerked his head. “In here.”

“What?”

“What happened? Martine’s in a mood, and she wants to see you right away.”

That hadn’t taken long. I took a deep breath and, without bothering to stop at my cube, walked across to Martine’s office and rapped at the open door.

She looked up. “Ah. Hope. Come in and shut the door, please.”

My heart was pounding as I did as she said, then slid into a seat opposite her.

“Everything all right up there?” she asked.

“Um…yes.” If she didn’t know yet, I wasn’t going to tell her. At least I might get paid for the day if I hung on here for another hour or two.

“Good. Now, then. This schedule.” She reached beside her for the document and began to point out my errors. My many errors, which mainly amounted to not having read her mind. I took notes, nodded, and asked questions that she answered impatiently, but I was getting the hang of it, and despite everything, that felt good.

“See that that’s finished right away, please,” she said. “I wanted it finalized this morning.” She glanced at her watch. “Take another pass at it, and try to get it right, please. Our time is limited.”

Little did she know. “Of course.”

Nathan popped his Prairie Dog head over my cube when I came back. “What the hell is going on?”

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