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“Yes, he’s been expecting you. Down the hall, first door on the left,” she said dismissively, completely ignoring my outstretched hand.
Okay, maybe I deserved that.
“Er…yeah. Thank you.”
Obviously having no chance at polite conversation, I turned and made my way to Alexander’s office. It was easy enough to locate, as the etched gold nameplate on the frosted glass door was a gleaming beacon to all who passed.
ALEXANDER STONE
Chief Executive Officer
I gave three short raps on the door before pushing down on the handle to let myself in. Alexander, appearing every bit the part of a polished businessman, sat behind a desk of black mahogany surrounded by enormous windows that revealed astonishing city views. He was leaning to one side of his high-backed chair, chin resting on his fist. He actually looked more suited for the pages of a Giorgio Armani catalog than a CEO of a multibillion-dollar corporation.
“Hey, good-lookin’. Sorry I’m a few minutes late.”
Alexander glanced in my direction and tossed me a single nod.
“I’ll get you the paperwork in a minute,” he said before turning back to his computer. He seemed to be in the middle of something. Rather than disturb him, I made myself comfortable in the chair across the desk from him. I waited for him to finish what he was working on and used the opportunity to look around at the surrounding space.
Like his conference room, the office was sophisticated in style, boasting a posh interior design with every modern amenity one could want in a workspace. It made me eager to see the offices at Turning Stone Advertising.
“You have a really nice office,” I said appreciatively
His only response to my compliment was a slight grunt. I frowned curiously at him, wondering what was up.
The phone on the desk buzzed, and Alexander quickly snatched up the receiver.
“You better be calling me with a date and time, Steve,” he said irritably into the phone. After a moment, his face turned sour. Whatever the person on the other end was saying, it couldn’t have been good. “I don’t care what the excuse is. Find another underwriter to get it done. And if you don’t, then I will. I want this deal closed by the end of the week.”
He forcefully put the receiver back onto its cradle, turned back to his computer, and began furiously typing on the keyboard. After a minute, he stopped and appeared to be studying whatever was on the screen. His jaw ticked while his thumb tapped a steady beat on the desktop. I had never seen him look so agitated.
“Is everything okay?” I asked cautiously.
Alexander looked up from his computer in surprise, almost as if he’d forgotten I was there.
“Everything is fine. I just hate delays.” And with that, he picked up the receiver again and dialed a number. “Laura, get ahold of Joshua Swanson. Tell him to check his email. I want a progress update by the end of the day.”
He’s on the warpath over something…
“What happened?”
He eyed me strangely but didn’t answer my question. Instead, he got up from his desk and went over to a file cabinet.
“Here’s the salary and benefit information for you to look over. It includes a severance deal as well,” he said coolly, unceremoniously tossing a manila folder onto the desk. “After you read it, you’ll need to sign a few things near the back.”
He sat back down and returned to whatever task he had been so engrossed in. I was somewhat taken aback, his frosty reception perplexing. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. Between Alexander and Laura, I was beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with the water at Cornerstone Tower.
“I think I offended Laura the last time I was here,” I said casually, trying to do something—anything—to break the tension in the room.
“Don’t worry about her. She can be fickle sometimes, but she’s extremely efficient, which is why I keep her around.” He absently waved me off, not looking away from the flat-screen monitor.
Something wasn’t right, and it wasn’t just his frustration over a delay. He was acting differently toward me—cold almost.
Is this the way he planned on separating our personal lives from work?
I watched him for a moment longer before picking up the folder, the click of the mouse the only sound heard in the room. I opened it and pretended to peruse the contents, but I wasn’t really seeing them. I flipped through the pages, chancing furtive glances at him to decipher the real reason behind his mood.
“Alex, what’s wrong?” I finally asked.
