“And the leather-bound client ledger that belongs to my personal consulting charter.”
Jenny swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward the frosted-glass conference room at the end of the central hallway where Nick and Carter Holbrook were currently presiding over an emergency all-hands meeting of the agency’s executive staff.
She didn’t press the security alarm.
She slowly, trembling, lowered her hand from the intercom:
“You have ten minutes, Sebastian,” she whispered, tears welling in her young eyes:
“Nick told the senior managers that you had a psychotic episode in the conference room.
He told them you tried to physically strike him before you ran into the parking lot.”
I smiled—a thin, dry, terrifying curve of my lips:
“Thank you, Jenny.”
“Make sure you keep your resume updated on LinkedIn this afternoon.”
“By five o’clock…”Pants
I stepped through the turnstile:
“…this agency will not have an executive board left to sign your paycheck.”
