Page 15 of Abyss

I had no intention of riding the subway to work today, but when the screeching in my car turned into more of a groan a mile out of my neighborhood, I decided to turn around and call an Uber to the station before hollering at my brother to drop it off at the shop. As it is, it would take me an hour to get into the office by car, and now it’ll be at least a half hour more.

An hour and a half later, I’m rushing out through the subway’s automatic doors, checking my watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

I’d emailed Belinda from the train, telling her I was running late, but even I have to admit it’s not a good look on my second day.

With my umbrella barely doing much to shield me from the onslaught of rain, I skirt past pedestrians and try to dodge as many puddles as possible. But not before mud splatters over my boots and the fishnet stockings I’d worn under my emerald-green, mid-length skirt.

Great. Just fucking great.

I was so proud of myself for putting this outfit together today, too, having gotten this skirt delivered, along with afew other pieces from an online consignment store yesterday.

Folding my umbrella at the entrance of the enormous Case Geo building, I enter, debating between cleaning up inside a restroom or showing up to the office looking like I just came out of a mud bath.

Settling on the latter, and hoping no one looks below my waist, I pat down my hair, tucking a few wet, wayward strands behind my ear inside the elevator. Rolling my shoulders back, I assess my reflection on the elevator doors, reassuring myself that it’s highly possible that Mr. Case isn’t even here yet.

I mean, there’s practically a torrential downpour out there. It’s perfectly reasonable for people to be late with this kind of inclement weather.

Thanking my lucky stars when I find a quiet and conspicuously empty front entrance to Mr. Case’s office—with not even Belinda at her desk—I hang my raincoat on the metal tree behind her desk and place my umbrella inside a bin.

I’m just bent over on her chair, wiping off the mud from my Docs with a tissue, when movement in the large conference room in front of me catches my attention.

Without rising, I look toward the room, full of at least twelve people dressed in suits. I hadn’t seen them when I’d entered, but looking closely, I now notice the back of Belinda’s head, her brown hair slightly flipped at the ends above her shoulders.

But it’s when I continue past her head and catch the ice-cold, stormy-blue eyes staring back at me that sheer panic settles in. A part of me wonders if I can tumble off the chair inconspicuously enough and roll under the desk to spend the rest of my day there, before the other part of me decides to follow his glare . . . looking down at my chest.

My veryuncoveredchest, where the tops of my breasts—swaying inside my lacy cream bra—are on display beneath my gaping V-neck, gray tank top.

I quickly rise, adjusting my shirt and throwing away the muddy tissue, when Belinda exits the conference room, her humorless expression homing in on me. “Hey, Kavi, Hudson wants you to join the meeting since you’ll be taking over a few key presentations with some of our clients once I’m on leave.”

“Oh, um, sure!” I gather up a notebook and pen, rising from my seat and following her. “I’m . . . I’m sorry I was late. Did you get my email?”

“Yes, but let’s discuss that later.” She reaches for the conference door, speaking over her shoulder. “Just so you’re aware, we’re going around the table with our own executive team on some open items and deal blockers.”

I nod before stepping inside, and I swear, I can feel a shift in the temperature, though it has nothing to do with how hot or cold it is in here. My eyes—the double-crossing bitches they are—find those same blue-gray ones across the table before I make my way to the open seat next to Belinda.

“Thank you for joining us, Ms. Jain.” Mr. Case’s head tilts up as he examines me like one would a diseased carcass. “How wonderful that you had the luxury of sleeping in today while the rest of us got up on time since we have to worry about these pesky things called responsibilities and professionalism.”

My cheeks heat—no, they catch fire—feeling the side glances from everyone around me. My eyes drop to my lap, burning with unshed tears. “I’m . . . I apologize for—”

“Spare us the theatrics, Ms. Jain, and let me make it crystal clear, in case you still haven’t woken up.” His nostrils flare and his eyes flick from my chest to my eyes so quickly, I swear I’ve imagined it. “There are few things I despise more than tardiness and accountability. If you can’t be here on timeon a daily basis, then please see yourself out and find a different workplace where the staff rolls in with unprofessional attire and muddy shoes.” Then, as if he hadn’t just publicly humiliated me, he looks to someone still standing at the front, near the projection screen. “Caleb, please continue.”

The tops of my ears burn and my chest constricts as I keep my eyes glued to my lap while shame buries itself inside my cheeks. And despite my trembling bottom lip and the rage crawling up my throat, I repeat the same words in a loop in my head,I will not cry.

I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

I’ve been through a lot worse.

I’m only shaken from my silent trance when Belinda’s hand grasps mine under the table. She squeezes it before her steely eyes connect with Mr. Case’s across from us. He looks from her to me, and for a fleeting moment, that same softness I saw once before—if only for a millisecond then two, when I’d dropped the glass of ice water on his lap—appears in his expression once more.

But this time it’s me who disconnects our gaze, turning my head to face the front with barely held disdain. My eyes feel like stones inside their sockets while I focus on the release of each of my breaths.

Because fuck him!

Yes, I messed up at the restaurant. I was a nervous wreck on my first day, having unfairly been assigned to a table even the experienced staff didn’t want. Yes, I not only accidentally lobbed a fucking cork at his forehead, I also spilled water on his lap and then made a fool of myself trying to wipe it up. And yes, I came in late today.

None of those things were done intentionally, but are any of them big enough offenses to spew vitriol and treat someone like absolute shit?

He already had me fired from my first job. If he didn’t want me working here, then why not fire me on the very first day? Why belittle me in such a way, in front of everyone, that if I was even going to have the slightest amount of compassion for his viewpoint, I no longer do?

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