THE NEW BOSS
1259 Words
Chapter Six
The New Boss
By Friday morning, everyone in the office had developed a theory about Adrian Vale.
Apparently, he was impossible to work for.
He had fired an entire executive team in Singapore.
He once ended a meeting because someone arrived three minutes late.
He didn't drink coffee.
That last one, according to Sophie, was proof that he couldn't be trusted.
“You're taking this personally,” I told her.
She looked up from her phone. “He bought our company.”
“He bought the company, not your soul.”
“Yet.”
I laughed and reached for the folder on my desk.
The office had changed overnight.
There were new security personnel at the entrance, new assistants on the executive floor, and enough whispered conversations about restructuring to make everyone paranoid. People who had been friends on Monday were suddenly competing for positions they hadn't even known existed.
Nobody knew who would still have a job in a month.
Nobody except Adrian, apparently.
He had been in meetings since seven that morning.
I'd heard his name at least six times before nine.
“Vale wants the numbers revised.”
“Vale wants the proposal by noon.”
“Vale rejected it.”
“Vale wants another meeting.”
It was beginning to feel like the entire building had become a machine powered by one man's demands.
At ten, our department received an email.
MANDATORY CREATIVE REVIEW — 11:00 A.M.
I stared at it.
Sophie leaned over my shoulder.
“That's ominous.”
“Everything is ominous to you.”
“Because I'm observant.”
“You're dramatic.”
“Same thing.”
We headed into the conference room a few minutes before eleven.
The new executive director was already there, along with several people from Adrian's team.
And, of course, Adrian.
He was reading through our campaign proposal.
He didn't look up when we entered.
We took our seats.
The meeting began with numbers.
Budget.
Deadlines.
Projected revenue.
Adrian asked questions that made three senior executives visibly uncomfortable.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
He simply asked questions until people either had an answer or admitted they didn't.
When it came to my department, he looked directly at me.
“Your team wants to shoot in Milan?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the campaign is built around the relationship between old-world craftsmanship and contemporary design.”
He glanced at the proposal.
“Paris would be cheaper.”
“Paris would also be predictable.”
A few people looked at me.
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“Predictable?”
“Yes.”
I leaned forward slightly.
“If we're trying to make the campaign memorable, choosing the obvious location defeats the purpose.”
He studied me.
For a second, I wondered if I'd said too much.
Then he nodded.
“Keep Milan.”
The room relaxed.
I almost did too.
Then he added, “But if it fails, I'll know exactly who to blame.”
There it was.
I smiled politely.
“I'll keep that in mind.”
His eyes lingered on mine.
Something passed between us that I couldn't quite name.
Not warmth.
Definitely not.
But something.
The meeting continued.
Halfway through, the door opened.
Camille walked in.
She didn't apologize for being late.
Nobody asked her to.
She simply took the empty seat beside Adrian and glanced at the presentation.
“I've reviewed the campaign,” she said.
I looked at her.
“You have?”
She smiled.
“Adrian sent it to me.”
Of course he had.
She turned toward the screen.
“I think the Milan concept is too expensive.”
I answered before Adrian could.
“It's within budget.”
“Barely.”
“The projected returns justify the cost.”
Camille smiled.
“You're confident.”
“I know my work.”
Something about the way she looked at me made the hairs on my arms rise.
“I like that.”
Her smile remained.
“I wonder if you'll still feel that way when the numbers come in.”
Adrian finally spoke.
“Camille.”
She looked at him.
“Leave the creative decisions to her.”
There was a brief silence.
Camille's smile disappeared.
“Of course.”
I looked at Adrian.
I hadn't expected him to defend my proposal.
He didn't look at me.
The meeting ended shortly afterward.
As everyone began leaving, Camille stayed behind.
I gathered my papers.
When I reached the door, I heard her say something.
“Adrian, are you sure?”
I stopped.
He answered quietly.
“About what?”
“Her.”
I didn't turn around.
There was a pause.
Then Adrian said, “I know what I'm doing.”
I walked away before I could hear anything else.
Back at my desk, I tried to concentrate.
It didn't work.
Camille's behavior bothered me.
Adrian's did too.
But neither bothered me as much as the photograph I'd seen in his office two days earlier.
I hadn't been able to get a good look at it.
Still, there had been something about the woman in it.
Something familiar.
I opened my drawer and pulled out my phone.
I'd taken a picture of myself when I was younger once, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, standing outside my old apartment.
I found it.
I stared at the screen.
Then I opened a photo of the woman I'd seen briefly in an article about Adrian's past.
Elena.
I had searched for her the night before.
There weren't many photographs.
But there were enough.
I placed the images side by side.
My heart began to beat faster.
The resemblance was obvious.
Too obvious.
I zoomed in.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Even the shape of the smile was similar.
I stared at the two photographs until my vision blurred.
“No.”
I locked my phone.
This was ridiculous.
People could look alike.
It happened.
That didn't mean—
“Lilian?”
I nearly jumped.
Sophie was standing beside my desk.
“You okay?”
I slipped my phone into my drawer.
“Yeah.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You look like you've seen a ghost.”
I gave a small laugh.
“Maybe I have.”
She didn't laugh.
Instead, she pulled up a chair.
“What is it?”
I looked around the office.
Everyone was busy.
Nobody was watching us.
I lowered my voice.
“I found a picture of Elena.”
Sophie's expression changed.
“And?”
I hesitated.
“I look like her.”
She was quiet.
“Lilian…”
“I know.”
“No, I mean…”
She leaned closer.
“How much?”
I didn't answer.
Because there was no point pretending anymore.
Enough.
Enough that I had spent the last hour staring at a photograph of a woman I'd never met and feeling like I was looking at myself.
Before Sophie could say anything else, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I stared at it.
It rang again.
I answered.
“Hello?”
No one spoke.
“Hello?”
There was breathing on the other end.
Then a woman's voice.
Soft.
Careful.
“You shouldn't be looking for her.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who is this?”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone slowly.
Sophie stared at me.
“What happened?”
I looked at her.
“I think someone knows what happened to Elena.”
And for the first time, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
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