The Boardroom Battle
286 Words
The 90th floor was the "Inner Sanctum." The walls were lined with original oil paintings of ships that had built the Vane fortune a hundred years ago. At the end of the hall stood a set of double oak doors.
Leo pushed them open.
The room was a horseshoe of mahogany. Twelve people sat there, the "Board of Directors." They were men and women who looked like they were carved from the same cold stone as the building. But Leo’s eyes went straight to the woman at the head of the table.
SLOANE VANE (30s) was a study in precision. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight it looked painful. Her suit was the color of a winter sky—sharp, cold, and expensive. She didn't look like a grieving daughter. She looked like a general surveying a battlefield.
"The guest of honor has arrived," Sloane said. Her voice was like silk over a razor blade. "Tell me, Mr. Moretti, did you ride your little bicycle all the way to the North End, or did you have to take the bus with the rest of the help?"
The board members didn't laugh, but the air in the room grew colder.
Leo didn't flinch. He walked to the only empty chair—the one at the opposite end of the table from her. He sat down and placed the black keycard on the mahogany surface.
"I took a Cadillac," Leo said, leaning back. "Your lawyer’s. He seemed very concerned that I wouldn't make it. I’d hate to disappoint a man who spends so much on umbrellas."
Sloane’s eyes narrowed. The first blow had been landed.
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