Page 2 of The Refusal

Oh,veryinteresting.Notthe response I’d expect from someone whose ego has to be as big as a planet. I thought he’d say he was Janus Phillips and give me a knowing smirk.Where’s all the arrogance?

“Oh, nice.” I bob my head like a nodding dog. “It must be terrific to have a job here.” I lean forward and lower my voice. “I’ve heard that Janus Phillips is so cool to work for. A friend of mine knows him and told me he was a peach.” I tilt my head, trying not to laugh. What is coming out of mymouth? Janus’s jaw drops and redness starts at the bottom of his neck; it makes me want to turn the screw a little more. “Have youmethim?” I breathe.

He examines the floor for a while, and when his gaze comes back to mine, I’m taken aback by the crinkles around the corners of his eyes, the conspiratorial gleam.

“I’ve had a few meetings with him,” he murmurs, and his eyes sweep over my hair and cheeks, coming to rest on my lips.

My heart gives a funny little stutter as I stare at him. What am Idoing? He’s … He’s … Well, I’m not sure what his game is actually, but I am messing with him, and he probably chases anything in a skirt. The heat in my face feels like a furnace. He’ll think I am some airhead who doesn’t realize who he is, and, despite everything, I want this contract; doing Janus Industries security would put my little tech consultancy on the map. I wouldn’t come to a meeting and not suss out the Chief Executive, now, would I? And here I am with my daft sense of humor about to completely screw it all up by playing some crazy game with the guy who is probably going to make the decision about whether to use my company or not. Ugh.Idiot, Jo.I’m opening my mouth to say God knows what—but I’m hoping an apology will leak out somewhere—when we judder to a halt, and, before either of us can say anything, the doors separate with a loud ping.

Janus shifts around me, giving me a half smile, which only makes everything worse, before he steps out of the elevator.

“Great to meet you, um … I didn’t get your name …?” he says.

“Look I’m sorry—” I start as the doors begin to close. I search frantically for the stop button, but before my hand can get to it, I’m being whisked up to the twentieth floor and my meeting.

* * *

The small reception desk on the twentieth floor is all illuminated glass in bright triangles, and I chew the side of my nail, sweat trickling down my spine. The office stretches out before me like an aircraft hangar, giving an unrestricted view right across the partitions to the other side of the building. Colored glass walls cut through the space interspersed with gray steel pillars, bright carpets marking out the walkways between the workspaces. You’d need sunglasses to look at the lime-colored sofa in the reception area.Wow. The vibe up here couldn’t be more different from the atrium downstairs, and I would give my right arm for an office like this.

But all this overt trendiness is not helping. Did I really just try to wind up the CEO ofthisplace in his own elevator? What is it with me and winding people up? I need to find him and apologize.

My phone buzzes in my hand. Nora. Why is my finance person calling me now?

“Nora?”

“Hey, Jo, I’m sorry to call but, um, we’ve got a cashflow problem.”

What?“How much is in the account?”

“About ten thousand dollars.” Her hollow voice echoes through my phone.

My God.Payroll is way beyond that.

“I’m sorry but the rent had to go out on Friday. Payroll this month isfortythousand, Jo.”

I don’t say I know this. I don’t say anything. The bright colors of the office blare out at me, success oozing from every pore. I feel like an ant. A very poor ant.

“What’s the situation with the Caltech money?”

“I’m chasing it, but they said three weeks at theearliest.”

Oh,God. The bank won’t lend me a cent—I’ve been down that road before.

I lower my voice to a whisper and pace a few steps away from the reception desk. “Look into credit cards, Nora, see if we can borrow anything,” I say.

She makes a noise like she’s been crushed under someone’s heel, and I don’t blame her. Cards are a terrible idea, but what options do I have? I’m hanging on by my fingernails here.

“Sorry, I know that’s a rubbish idea, but it’s all I have right now. I’ve got to go and do this presentation.”

“Sorry, Jo, and good luck! Fingers crossed. It could sort all our problems.”

Yeah. Right. I hang up and slide my phone into my pocket. Do unicorns work with ants? Or do they just trample them underfoot?

I scan the receptionist’s oversized plaid shirt, lip piercing, the knitted cap that bobs as she types.

“Is Janus Phillips coming to this meeting?” I blurt out, and her gaze swings over me, coming to rest on where my hands are now white-knuckling my laptop case. Dammit.

“I’m sorry, Miss Williams, I don’t know.” She gives me a placating smile. “Here’s Bob Sugar now,” she says, gesturing to the red carpet that runs in a straight line through the desks from one end of the office to the other. “I’m sure he can answer any questions you have.”

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