Julian turned. Camille Hart stood in the corridor holding black coffee and a leather portfolio. She was the CEO of Hartwell Capital. Yet, with one heel scuffed and a loose strand of hair, she looked like someone who had slept 4 hours and denied it. Julian closed the notebook.
I'm deciding whether this light fixture has a personal problem with me. Camille looked up. And we're working through it. She laughed, surprising them both. They had met 14 months earlier when Camille arrived carrying two boxes of confidential files.
The freight elevator doors began closing before she reached them and Julian stopped them with one arm while crouched beside the control panel. He warned her that the car sometimes hesitated at the 11th floor. "Is that dangerous?" She asked. "Not the way it's failing now," he replied.
Its precision stayed with her not dangerous now. Since then, she had noticed that Julian did not simply repair what broke. He anticipated it. A loose grate was secured before she reported nearly falling. A thermostat was fixed after one passing complaint.
When Sophie lost a library book, Camille found herself kneeling behind a potted tree, helping them search while a board meeting waited upstairs. The moments seemed small, so she dismissed them. She called it admiration for competence and affection for Sophie, insisting her earlier mornings had nothing to do with seeing Julian. Julian was equally determined to misunderstand what was happening. Camille belonged to glass offices and decisions involving more money than he would earn in a lifetime.
He belonged to repair calls, school pickups, and a house forever changed after his wife died. Whatever warmth existed between them had to remain harmless. He had Sophie to protect and he already knew what happened when powerful people decided a man like him had become inconvenient. "What are you writing down?" Camille asked, glancing at his pocket.
"Things that might become problems." "That sounds ominous. Most problems are boring before they become expensive." He smiled, but she noticed he had avoided the question. Before she could press him, Sophie ran from the lobby, one shoelace loose, waving a sheet of paper.
Dad, you forgot this. Julian took it and Camille glimpsed a child's drawing meridian tower in gray crayon. Julian at the bottom in an oversized hard hat and a woman in a blue dress near the top. Sophie quickly folded it. It's not finished.
Camille raised an eyebrow. Should I worry about my likeness only if you don't like blue? Julian gave his daughter a warning look that failed to hide his embarrassment. For one moment, the corridor felt safe. Then the elevator opened behind Camille and Gordon Pike stepped out.
His gaze moved from Sophie to Camille before locking on Julian with a flicker of recognition. Price Gordon said just the name spoken like an accusation. Julian's posture changed by a fraction. Mr. Pike. Gordon noticed the notebook in Julian's pocket.
Maintenance staff are not paid to wander executive floors making personal observations. Camille's expression cooled. He was repairing a light. Then he should repair it and move on. Gordon stepped closer.
People sometimes forget their place when they are treated too familiarly. Sophie stopped smiling. Julian's jaw tightened, but Camille answered first. And some people mistake a title for permission to be cruel. Gordon turned stunned then smiled.