Charles looked at Isabel with a worried expression. His fingers absent-mindedly drawing patterns into the palm of her hands. She had frozen from his rhetorical question. She stared at him without seeing him.
"Izzy?" he whispered.
She flinched from the sound of her nickname and finally gazed at Charles. He smiled broadly.
"Were you that shocked?" he chuckled softly.
Isabel felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she gradually realized he was serious.
"Since when did you–" she stopped herself. It's been several years since they started working together. It was the little things that she merely brushed off as him being friendly and a gentleman to get his bearings in a new job. She opened her mouth again only to snap it shut when she suddenly made eye contact with Gretchen who was leaning casually against the glass wall of her manager's office; her face a silk canvas of a thick layer of foundation, blush, full false lashes, and plump lips coated with a coral-colored matte lipgloss.
She didn't stand with her arms crossed over her chest but rather folded carefully under her breasts emphasizing its full and perkiness. Her low cut blouse did her cleavage almost no justice; her $145 black Mackay rib pencil skirt hugged her waist in all the right places. She was a woman on a mission, almost too perfect that you'd overlook that a third of her was plastic surgery.
"Shit, " Isabel breathed as Ms. Collins smirked and slid off the wall she'd been trying to mark with her presence. Her devil spawn, Lee McCauley, quickly followed the click of her $500 Louboutin pumps. He was a scrawny man; young and ambitious. He habitually talked down to people when they approached him in the HR office. Suited up in a formal, yet fashionable attire he scurried after his master like a lost pup.
Isabel gave Charles a warning look before straightening up and trying to focus on her computer screen. She had just marked up the latest article on the new Apple watch when the strong scent of Coco Chanel tickled her nostrils. She didn't need to look up to know that Gretchen was hovering over her desk.
"Ms. Perez," she said in a tone that made you feel as though she was addressing a stray animal.
"How can I help you, Ms. Collins?" Isabel replied in the same tone, not pausing to look up but continued to type up the report on her screen.
Lee glared at Isabel in astonishment and opened his mouth to speak but Gretchen held up her hand to silence him. He stood there quietly and sulked like a school boy. She snorted before turning her attention to Charles again.
"Afternoon, Mr. Grover. Were you able to take a look at that task I requested?"
Charles reluctantly turned to her, his face serious. "Unfortunately, no. I wasn't able to find an relevant information related to the Nasdaq and Google stock markets that isn't already being reported in the business section of the paper. I'm sure you could have learned about this without my assisstance." He added this last remark sarcastically looking right at her before turning his attention back to his work.
"I'm sure you already know why I asked for your assisstance in this matter," She continued, unbothered by his dismisive tone. "I wanted to spend more time getting to know you." She paused to glance at Isabel and smirked.
"Surely you'd rather be around better company or people that can guarantee a higher position in the company. Your current workplace seems a bit below standard for someone of your stature."
Charles clenched his hands around the lead pencil he'd been using to manually make small edits before inputting them into the computer. His expression was annoyed, but he tried to remain composed. Gretchen continued to make subtle but snide remarks about his work environment and his present "company" that Isabel began to fume in her seat. Gretchen finally turned her attention to Isabel and smirked at her expression.
"Am I saying anything that is bothering you personally, Ms. Perez?" She sneered, daring her to make a retort.
Charles looked at Isabel and made a pleading expression. 'Whatever you're thinking about, please don't,' his eyes begged her, but Isabel didn't care. She closed her eyes and sighed before getting to her feet. She felt Charles' hand against her skirt as he gave her a gentle tug that made her catch a quick glance of his warning headshake. Isabel glared at her HR representative for several moments before she smiled broadly.
"Good afternoon, Mr. David."
Gretchen froze; her usual sneering demeanor cracked as it struggled to transition to a gentle and professional manner. It was Isabel's turn to smirk and enjoy the cringe that was at the root of every one of Gretchen's gestures. Mr. David, who had been leaning against an empty desk a few meters from them, starightened up and apprached the small party that was formed by the four of them. He greeted Charles and Isabel with a nod and a smile before finally turning a disgusted gaze to Ms. Collins and Mr. McCauley.
"I was unaware the editorial department was due for it's weekly harasment by our HR and her sidekick," he nearly raised his voice. The look on his face was easy to read as it was obvious he had been standing there and heard the entirty of Gretchen's routine monolague. His expression was furious as he stared at the both of them tight lipped.
"I will see you both in my office in five minutes, there is something I wish to discuss with Ms. Perez," he said through clenched teeth.
A few minutes after their hurried departure Mr. Joshua David let out a huff and looked over to his two employees. He gripped the corners of the desk to steady himself and compose his anger before plastering a smile on his face.
"I'm sorry you two had to endure that. I'm aware of the behavior of Ms. Coliins and her stooge from several complaints in a couple of departments. Unfortunately, the editorial department is the only place she spends most of her time." He eyed Charles and smiled. "I can see what the fuss was about."
Charles raised a bewildered eyebrow and Isabel blushed and a dull pink. He looked at his boss quizically, unaware of the obvious meaning of his words of observation. Mr. David looked at Isabel and chuckled. He pointed a thick finger in her direction.
"You'll have to clarify the rumors with your supervisor here but I think she will have a hard time if she changes to a more danerous color." He continued to laugh but only made Isabel flush an even deeper shade of pink. She cleared her throat after a few moments.
"You w-wanted to s-speak with me, Mr. David?"
"Ah yes," he paused and looked at her. "I want you to be the new head of the editorial department." He held up his hand to silence her before she could speak. "I understand your reluctance in leaving the nest because you have a fledgling. However, pit's a double promotion. Not only will you become the new department head but Mr. Grover will follw closely and become the section head supervisor. He will report derectly to you so you two will still be abe to work together."
Isabel gapped at him. 'Me? a DH? How?' she glanced at Charles and he nodded, a light in his eyes. From a distance Isabel caught Janice watching her. Her face was pale and sickly as her eyes were open wide. Isabel wasnt sure what she was looking at but the gaze felt as though it went through her. Isabel nodded to Mr. David and he clasps her hands in approval before shuffling off toward his office.
"Izzy? You okay? You were staring into space for a minute there." The worried tone in Charles' voice bled into his question. Isabel looked up once more to the corner where she had seen her best friend, but she had vanished. Her eyes wandered around the room to search for her but came up empty. She frowned.
"It's nothing."
Why was he there?! At her job no less?' Janice Johnson closed the door of the glass office and turned the key in the lock until she heard the click. She hated leaving late from work. She should've taken her best friend's advice and left with them to get dinner. She smiled to herself as she remembered Isabel's puppy dog eyes as she declined her ofter to go for drinks; her boss had already left early and he had left her with a large stack of documents to sort and file.
The halls of the building were still lit but it was eerie quiet as she only heard the dull click of her heels on the tiled path to the cluster of elevators. She pressed the button to the ground floor and waited patiently for the bell to ping. Shuffling into the space of the elevator she nearly jumped as a hand reached out to stop the door from closing.
It was Travis, an old flame.
"Going down?" he smirked at her shaken expression.
Janice paused for a moment and nodded. It felt awkward being around him now. They'd broken up a few years ago before she started working here. She became close friends with Isabel that it almost surprised her that they'd been messing around for a few months. It never got anywhere serious, but the passion was there. She looked at Travis Cage and stared. He was still a good looking guy. His sharp nose, his thick arched brows, the gentle curve of his lower lip, the broad shape of his shoulders. Her eyes didn't stop there; his tall and slender body that was deliciously built under all those layers of clothing. Just because he was well proportioned in his upper body made the energy of the second half that more unpredictable. She flushed as she remembered the wild nights they tumbled and blessed almost every surface of her apartment. It was almost nostalgic. Janice was so deep in thought she hadn't noticed how quickly they reached the lobby and Travis was getting her attention to step out of the elevator.
"I'll see you around." He said softly before leaving her alone at the ID checkpoint. The turnstile was off but it still rotated when someone was leaving the building.
The evening air was wet and bitter; stained with cooking oil and tobacco smoke from the Italian pub down the street. It was musty and dull as she let the large sidewalks of Manhattan crackle beneath the click of her heels.
It was then when she felt it. Someone was watching her, following her. She glanced over her shoulder. Empty. The streets were quiet. Unusual for this part of the city. She heard footsteps in the distance and her own quickened against the surface of the concrete. Her apartment wasn't far on foot, but it seemed to take longer to get there.
She reached a tall building on the next block. The light from the lobby illuminated her face as she walked through the doors and passed the security desk. Mr. Clark was keeping watch on the monitors today.
"Anything interesting happen today?" she smiled as she gazed upon the balding middle-aged man sitting quietly at the red mahogany desk. He was a stout man in his early forties that always arrived on time and never left a minute late. 'Punctuality is the politeness of princes, ' he would respond. Mr. Clark glanced over his glasses at the slender woman. He chuckled.
"Nothing yet. I hope you had a productive day as well? I know how trying this city can be."
Janice smiled at him and nodded before walking around the corner to check her postbox. It was empty. She stepped to the elevator and pressed the button to go up. The door pinged and opened. She quickly walked in and pressed the button for the ninth floor. She hummed as the floors pinged and passed until the elevator finally halted and opened onto a brightly lit hallway.
She walked to her front door and jingled her keys in the lock. She frowned when the door opened easily with a gentle push, and squinted into the darkness before she felt the wall for the light switch. The room softly illuminated with a warm glow but the entryway was empty. She sighed and shook her head. 'I must be paranoid.'
Janice clicked several of the locks installed on the door breathing nervously. She turned to undress, placing her coat and heels on the rack. A bath. That's what she craved. Stripping down to skin she drew a warm tub of water. Rose petals sprinkled in the bath gave an image of luxury. Tranced by the scent of roses it almost immediately enhanced her mood. Dipping in, the rosewater soothed her irritated skin, and brightened her complexion, tightening pores for a smooth appearance. She leaned against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes.
After a long ten minutes, she heard something, almost like a creak coming from the living room. She opened her eyes and peered through the doorway into the dark abyss. It was quiet for a few moments, and then she heard it again. She hesitated before standing slowly and reaching for her bath towel, wrapping it around her tightly before stepping onto the cork bath mat. She poked her head out with dark wet hair dangling in front of her face. She stepped out into the foyer crouching and looked around before sighing. The sudden click and the feel of a cold metal barrel made her freeze.
He put the gun to her temple and cocked the spring back. Janice panicked.
"Don't shoot! Please don't shoot!"
He smiled. The gun still at her temple, he squatted in front of her and smiled wide, it frightened her. His eyes raked the contour of her face before landing on her slightly opened mouth and leaned forward to kiss her quivering lips. She froze and stared at him, her round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. She tried to avoid his second attempt but went rigid as his eyes stared into hers coldly, she hesitated, then kissed back. He paused, then lowered the gun. Suddenly she pushed him backward and grabbed the pistol. He chuckled and looked up at her trembling figure.
"Go ahead, Janice. Pull the trigger."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know a lot about you, Janice."
"Wha-"
"I know where you eat." Janice started to shake. "I know where you sleep."
"Shut up!" she hissed.
"The way you get dressed after you shower, " he continued, not hearing her.
"That night....that was you?!"
"What?" he smiled crookedly. Janice squeezed the trigger.
Click. No bullets.
"Dammit!"
With one swift movement he knocked her to the ground. She triggled to wriggle free, but he had her by the ankles. He dragged her right under him.
"I don't want to hurt you, Janice, but you're not leaving me any choice!"
She was trapped and couldn't move her arms and legs. She struggled to get free as she panicked. Her towel was coming loose, but she didn't care as she tried to crawl into the bathroom. She almost got to her feet when a gloved hand covered her eyes and mouth. She let out a muffled yelp and tried to break his hold.
"I'm sorry, " he whispered softly before removing a silenced pistol from his inside pocket and pressing the barrel to her head. He kissed the top of her hair and pulled the trigger.