I Left My Earring, He’s My CEO

Chapter 4: The Jealous Supervisor

"Get out," Harvey commanded, his voice slicing through Blair's frantic shrieking like a dull blade. "Both of you. This meeting is over."

Blair’s mouth snapped shut. She scrambled to gather her soggy portfolios, shooting me a glare so toxic it could have melted steel. I practically sprinted out of the CEO's office, my legs still trembling from the scandalous, humiliating torture Harvey had just subjected me to beneath the table.

The moment the elevator doors opened onto the design department floor, Blair grabbed me by the arm. Her acrylic nails dug painfully into my skin.

"Ow! Blair, let go!" I hissed, trying to wrench my arm away.

She ignored me, dragging me forcefully into her private glass-walled office and viciously yanking the blinds shut. The moment we were hidden from the bullpen, she shoved me backward. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the edge of her desk.

"Are you insane?" Blair hissed, her face twisted in an ugly mask of rage. "Do you have any idea how hard I worked to secure that private meeting with Mr. Bass? And you deliberately sabotaged it!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" I argued, rubbing my bruised arm. "My hand slipped!"

"Don't lie to me, you little b***h," Blair snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "I saw the way you were looking at him. I saw how flustered you were. Do you actually think a billionaire like Harvey Bass would ever look twice at a pathetic, frumpy junior designer like you? You're a charity case, Morris. You wear off-the-rack suits and buy your shoes on clearance. Men like him don't even know girls like you exist."

If only she knew. A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips, but I swallowed it down. If Blair found out Harvey had spent an hour last night worshiping my body in a five-star hotel bed, she would quite literally murder me.

"I'm not trying to get his attention, Blair. I swear," I said quietly, keeping my head down.

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you certainly failed at being invisible. Since you ruined my physical portfolios, you're going to make up for it. The physical design archives in the sub-basement are a mess. I want you to go down there and reorganize every single physical blueprint from the last ten years by serial number."

My eyes widened in horror. "Blair, there are thousands of files down there! That will take all night. And it's Friday—the building shuts down at eight o'clock."

Blair smiled, a cruel, venomous curling of her lips. "Then I suggest you get started right now. And don't even think about leaving until it's done. If I come in on Monday and find one file out of place, I'll fire you for insubordination."

She opened her office door and pointed a perfectly manicured finger toward the hallway. "Get to the basement, Morris."

I had no choice. I was living paycheck to paycheck, and my rent was due in three days. I couldn't afford to lose this job, no matter how miserable Blair made it.

I left my purse and my cell phone locked in my desk drawer, assuming I wouldn't need them, and took the freight elevator down into the bowels of the building.

The sub-basement archive room was a massive, concrete vault filled with towering rows of cold metal filing cabinets. The air down here was stale, smelling of dust and old paper. The central heating didn't reach this far down, making the room feel like a walk-in refrigerator.

I shivered, pulling my thin beige blazer tighter around my chest.

I grabbed a step-stool and started pulling files. For hours, I worked in silence, surrounded by towering walls of metal. My back ached, my fingers were covered in paper cuts, and my feet throbbed in my cheap heels.

By the time I reached the fifth row of cabinets, my watch read 9:15 PM. The entire building above me was undoubtedly empty.

Suddenly, I heard the heavy squeak of the metal vault door opening in the distance.

I paused, dropping a file. "Hello?" I called out, assuming it was the night security guard doing his rounds. "I'm still in here! I'm just finishing up!"

Footsteps echoed against the concrete floor, slow and deliberate.

I stepped out from between the aisles. Standing by the massive steel door was Blair. She had changed into a sleek trench coat, her designer handbag slung over her shoulder.

"Blair?" I asked, confused. "What are you still doing here?"

She smiled at me, her eyes gleaming with a malicious, terrifying kind of triumph.

"Just making sure the trash stays where it belongs," she said sweetly.

Before my exhausted brain could process what she meant, Blair stepped backward out of the room. She grabbed the heavy metal handle of the vault door and slammed it shut with a deafening BANG that shook the walls.

"Blair!" I screamed, dropping the files and sprinting toward the door.

I heard the heavy, metallic CLANG of the exterior deadbolt sliding into place. She had locked it from the outside.

"Blair, open the door! This isn't funny!" I slammed my fists against the freezing steel. "Let me out!"

There was no answer. Just the muffled sound of her stilettos clicking away down the hallway, fading into complete silence.

Then, the worst happened.

With a loud mechanical hum, the overhead fluorescent lights snapped off.

Blair had cut the breaker.

I was instantly plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness. It was a thick, suffocating blackness that completely blinded me.

Panic, raw and animalistic, clawed at my throat. I pounded on the door, screaming until my voice was hoarse.

"Help! Someone help me! Please!"

But I knew it was useless. The sub-basement was soundproofed to protect the archives from moisture and vibrations. No one could hear me. The security guards never checked the vault unless there was an alarm. And everyone else was gone for the weekend.

I was trapped.

Without the lights, the temperature in the concrete room plummeted rapidly. Within thirty minutes, I was violently shivering. My thin blazer offered zero protection against the biting cold that seeped up from the concrete floor.

I slumped down against the heavy metal door, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs to conserve whatever body heat I had left.

Tears streamed down my freezing cheeks, instantly turning icy in the cold air. I thought about the man who had caused all this—Harvey Bass. If he hadn't touched me under the table, Blair wouldn't have gone insane with jealousy.

The cold was becoming unbearable. My fingers and toes were completely numb. My breathing grew shallow and ragged.

"Someone... please," I whimpered into the suffocating darkness, my voice weak and trembling.

I curled into a tight ball on the freezing concrete, my eyes fluttering shut as the oppressive cold finally began to drag me into darkness.