MAXWELL’S POV
The coffee in my cup was completely cold.
Staring blankly at the black liquid and watching a single bubble pop on the surface confirmed it was exactly 9:00 PM on a Friday night. While most of New York City was out at lively bars, busy restaurants, or going happily home to their families, sitting rigidly in a glass conference room on the fiftieth floor of Harrington Tower to stare down a terrified Junior Vice President was my reality.
"I asked you a simple question, Mr. Davis," I said. Keeping my voice incredibly quiet stemmed from learning a long time ago that shouting was a complete waste of energy, while heavy silence was significantly more effective. "Why are the projections for the Dubai resort off by point-two percent?"
Swallowing audibly and adjusting his glasses ne
