Fallen Queen

~ C H A P T E R T W O ~

I lean slightly against the counter, as she checks whatever she is on her tablet. I wonder if it's showing off, since there's a computer in front of her, but after all, it's none of my business.

"I've got you- Senior Economist, ES Tech. I'll take you to Mr. Thelonious. You must know him- he's the CFO of the company," she drags on as she walks me towards the elevator. I nod like I know who the fuck Thornton or Tonton is, but in all honesty, I was too busy tipping the new economist at my previous workplace. Dude is as scared as a wet cat, and I bet it'll be two weeks at most for him.

The elevator works its way up fast, but the building doesn't seem to end. The only things that keep me going are how laid-back and culturally innovative the office  is designed to serve. The office also houses private workspaces including an editing suite with a separate sleeping nook for video team members working late nights. Unique finishes include a light installation of scrap pipes, antique brass wall fans, and a fully functioning antique rotary phone. Fifteen-foot-high glass arched windows provide a lot of natural light.

"Here we are," she announces, before leading the way into and into the building. Like I said, the building seems like it would never end. Some heads straighten up when they see me; I'm not  surprised. I actually made a breakthrough into the Forbes list last year which was quite a talk in the field. The looks and the eyes- I'm used to it.

The woman stops in front of a charcoal colored door, marked Chief Financial Officer in silver colored calligraphy. She bows at me and leaves without another word. I reach behind to soothe the nape of my neck, since it feels awkward. This is no interview, but I have a nagging feeling of something going amiss because of the bad coffee I had in the morning.

I push the door open, cursing loudly because that's the time my laces choose to go awry. I swear on Jesus and what not, like a drunken sailor, and I bend down to mess it up once again. Once I'm done, I get straight again, just to let out a low gasp.

"Bro?!- ah shit, wait bro?!" 

I almost half growl in surprise and half in indignation. I pinch my cheek, expecting the man before me to fade out on the effect of my pinch, but nothing happens. Instead, he doesn't look surprised. He's smirking.

"Wait," I breathed, not leaving his eyes, and letting everything else fade in my periphery, "Does that mean it's Nico-"

"I'm never surprised with the racket you carry around you, honestly."

I'd recognize the other bastard's deep, dragging voice. I'd be able to distinguish his voice among the voices of a hundred thousand people, no bragging. Here I stood in front of the people I hated the most, and we'd still worked our way up from kindergarten to university.

"Okay, harebrain," I felt the fucktard's deep, smirking and dangerous voice cut through my thoughts, "I'd seen a Crimson scribbled on the application paper, but I didn't know it was you. Why was I not informed, Nico?"

"Apparently the human resources thought we were picking people out after judging them in the looks department, you know. But they weren't half as wrong; those few chicks were good fucks. Especially the two redheads that ven-"

"Can you keep me out of your sexcapades? I'm like any other woman here, making a living?" I made a mocking request, and I swear I noticed how Wolfe's jaw twitched. "Chicken. Look at us, we still bagged a chick without knowing it. I'm loyal, I'd leave you to Wolfe. However, do not hesi-"

"God, you guys need to shut up," I held my hands up in half mock surrender and half vexation. I cocked my head to both the sides, and felt hot air exhaled by my ears. Nico chuckled, and Wolfe had the same mocking smile plastered to his face. "And if we don't, Isa?"