Todd hung up. Owen stared at the receiver. He wiped his mouth, grabbed the thick manila folder from his desk, and stood up. He smoothed down his cheap tie, ran a hand through his hair, and walked toward the elevator. When the doors opened on the top floor, the silence was deafening.
No buzzing lights, just thick carpet and original artwork. Owen walked down the corridor to boardroom B. He knocked once and pushed the heavy glass door open. Inside, Todd was sweating profusely, standing next to a regional director who looked like he was facing a firing squad. And sitting at the head of the table, flanked by two executives, was Evelyn Mercer.
She looked up as the door opened. For a fraction of a second, the cold, impenetrable mask slipped. Her eyes widened slightly as they landed on Owen. He saw the flash of memory, the realization of exactly who she was looking at, the man who had held her hair back, the man whose oversized flannel shirt was currently stuffed into the bottom of her dry cleaning bag at the penthouse. Owen stopped at the edge of the table.
He didn't smile. He didn't acknowledge the night before. He maintained absolute professional distance. The raw data for the Seattle Hub as requested," Owen said, his voice steady. He placed the folder in front of Todd.
Todd fumbled with it, sliding it toward Evelyn. "As you can see, Miss Mercer, the delays are due to unavoidable weather patterns, and I don't want the summary, Todd," Evelyn interrupted, her voice sharp. She didn't look at Todd. She kept her eyes on Owen. "Who compiled this data? " Todd swallowed hard.
"Davies did. He's an analyst, but I reviewed it. " Mr. Davies, Evelyn said. The way she said his name sent a strange chill down Owen's spine. It wasn't hostile.
It was calculating. Can you explain the discrepancy between the projected shipping times and the actuals? Owen stepped forward. He ignored Todd's warning glare. The actuals are delayed because we are using a third party vendor that prioritizes localized routes over our interstate freight.
The middle management directives mandated the cheaper vendor to lower upfront costs, but the back-end penalties for late delivery completely negate the savings. We're losing money to save face on the initial budget sheet. Silence fell over the room. Todd went pale. Owen had just thrown him under the bus, backed it up, and parked it on him.
Evelyn stared at Owen. She saw the exhaustion in his eyes. She saw the cheap fraying collar of his shirt. She saw the man who had $30 to his name and had spent it to get her home safely. A slow, terrifyingly predatory smile spread across Evelyn's face.
It wasn't directed at Owen. It was directed at Todd. "Is that so? " Evelyn murmured softly. She closed the folder. She looked back at Owen, the intensity in her amber eyes pinning him in place.
"Your analysis is highly appreciated, Mr. Davies. Your clarity on the reality of our situation is exactly what this department has been lacking," Owen gave a short, rigid nod. "Just doing my job, Miss Mercer. " "Yes," Evelyn said, leaning back in her leather chair, steepling her fingers. The hangover was entirely gone, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.