Chapter 17: The Cold Inspection
516 Words
The boardroom wasn't just filled with the directors today; there were two independent ethics auditors from the Securities Commission. The air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and the clinical scent of Jace’s perfume.
I stood in my usual spot, but the distance between Jace and me felt like a canyon. I was wearing the stiffest collar I owned, my hair pulled back so tightly it pulled at my scalp. I didn't look like the woman she had held the night before. I looked like a ghost.
"The allegations of 'coercion' are not only false," Jace said, her voice echoing off the glass walls, "they are a targeted attack on this merger. Associate Vance has been subjected to the same—if not more rigorous—standards as any trainee in my firm."
One of the auditors, a woman with sharp spectacles and an even sharper pen, looked at me. "Associate Vance, the photos from the gala suggest a level of... personal intimacy that exceeds professional boundaries. How do you explain the Director's physical conduct?"
My heart hammered. I remembered Jace’s hand on my neck. I remembered the heat. But I looked at Jace, and her eyes were like granite. This was a test.
"The Director was correcting my posture," I said, my voice as cold as hers. "I am a former socialite. I have a habit of slouching when I am tired. The Director does not tolerate weakness in her presence. If she was 'touching' me, it was to remind me of my standing."
Jace didn't blink. She didn't offer a look of relief. Instead, she leaned back and tapped a file on the table. "In fact," Jace added, "Associate Vance’s performance on the Sterling audit was nearly compromised by her personal distractions. As a result, she has been placed on a strict probationary period. Her residency in the suite is purely for oversight. She is under 24-hour supervision to ensure no further 'lapses' occur."
The auditor frowned. "Probation?"
"Yes," Jace snapped. "Associate, did you bring the corrected reports for the Lagos Port Authority?"
I hadn't. She hadn't asked for them. My heart stopped.
"I... no, Director. I thought—"
"You thought wrong," Jace cut me off, her eyes flashing with a calculated cruelty that made the auditors flinch. "This is exactly the lack of focus the Board is concerned about. You will return to the office and redo the entire Port analysis. You will stay there until it is perfect. Do not eat, do not rest, and do not leave that room until the data is verified. Is that clear?"
I felt a sting in my eyes, but I forced it down. I saw the auditors nodding, scribbling notes about "High Discipline" and "Strict Supervision." The plan was working, but the cost was a hole in my chest.
"Yes, Director," I whispered.
As I walked out, I didn't look back. I knew she was doing this to save us, but as the heavy doors closed, I realized that playing the "Strict Mistress" was a role Jace Thorne played far too well.
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