Cameron Timmel heaved a deep breath, calming her nerves as she lifted her nervously clenched fist to knock. Her knuckles contacted the wooden door, and for a second she shut her eyes, wishing she could turn around and walk away. Being personally summoned to his office was not a good sign in this business; it usually meant you’d screwed up big time and were being reprimanded.
She should have been on her way to the daycare centre to pick up Rose, her two-year-old daughter, who was spending more and more afternoons with their elderly neighbor over the past several weeks. Cameron hated to leave her child alone, much rather passing the time with the adorable and enthusiastic little girl than preparing business meetings, or heading downtown for a chat with the boss.
Cameron pushed open the front door after the lock clicked faintly to announce she could enter. The secretary regarded the entering woman with a pityful expression. Everyone who walked through the heavy doors had been unfortunate enough to get on his bad side, for he met with succesful employees in various restaurants, never in his office.
“You have an appointment?” The grey-haired secretary took a seat behind her desk, pushed her horn-rimmed glasses higher up her nose and pulled out a clipboard.
“Name, please.”
“I received this.” Cameron unfolded the letter, handing it to the woman before her, and then wiped her sweaty palms on her black suit pants.
“Cameron Timmel?” The secretary read aloud. Cameron tapped her foot impatiently. The assistant glanced up at her questioningly before scanning over the list of names on her clipboard.
“There’s no Cameron Timmel on the list, miss, there has to be some kind of misunderstanding.”
“That,” Cameron pointed at the letter “is a personal request demanding me in his office today, at two pm.” She knew that if she failed to show up for a meeting he personally requested, she would face problems greater than she could imagine. He had a rather serious issue with respect.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Miss, that-“ It was the secretaries turn to point at the neat cursive writing on the paper “is not Mr. Moreno’s signature.”
The hell it isn’t!
“I’ve seen his signature before!” Cameron paused to squint at the secretaries name tag “Marybeth… I don’t see why anyone would want to fake a summon from Mr. Moreno anyway, so let me through, please.”
“Miss Timmel, obviously you haven’t a clue as to what his signature looks like.” Marybeth coldly stated, watching Cameron over the top of her glasses.
Cameron kept herself from giving in to the argument, deciding it didn’t help to spend the next ten minutes yelling at the woman. Moreno had cameras, including sound recording, in every corner of every room, as well as access to the footage from his office, so he had surely noticed her by now.
The speakerphone beside Marybeth creaked to life, and after a moment of static a voice clearly stated “Let her in, Marybeth. The letter may be a fake, but nevertheless, I have some business to discuss with Miss Timmel.”
Pulling a surly face Marybeth pressed the Communicate button on the machine, and, with an annoyed sideward glance at Cameron, said “Yes, Sir, I’ll let her in right away, Sir.”
“And Marybeth,” the voice continued “keep that letter and find out what moron summoned her in my place.”
The woman growled in annoyance, not fancying the additional work, and replied “Yes, sir.” in an equally humble, though noticeably less kind, tone. She waved Cameron towards the high double doors “Go in then, Miss Timmel, hurry yourself a bit.”
Cameron puckered her brow at the woman before treading across the rich carpet to the high doors. She pressed her palm against the expensive wood and stepped into the room, her heels ticking sharply on the wooden floor.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the soft thud cut them off from the outside world. In this office, only his rules applied. The vast desk with glass tabletop, dark wooden bookshelves and glass liquor cupboard were exactly the same as she remembered them to be.
“Cameron.” His voice sounded sharp through the sudden silence of the office “I didn’t expect to see you here again.”
She fixed her gaze on the broad back of the leather armchair, waiting for him to revolve around and face her, and then said “I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t for that phony letter.”
“It’s been too long since we talked.” He ignored her remark, the chair rotating little by little to reveal a tall, lean man whose beard and suit were as dark and impeccable as ever. Roger Moreno, the mastermind behind the black market in electronics.
“You look like you’ve been on the run.” He scrutinized her severely with his intent head-to-toe glare. She merely shrugged in response, all too aware of her rugged state.
“Why should you care, Roger?” She spoke steadily, controlling the tremors of rage and fear inside of her, the emotions awaiting their chance to surface. She narrowed her eyes “I know for a fact that you’d kill me yourself if it benefited your cause, don’t act as though you mind someone else hunting me down.”
“Now, now, Cameron, there’s no need for hostility.” He folded his hands together in his lap, leaning back in the armchair “It is natural for a former employer to… give thought to their ex-employees situation.”
As far as she was concerned he was, to date, her boss, and she widened her eyes at his words. Watching her with disdain he erased every hint of kindness from his pale features “I hear you’ve betrayed me, Cameron.”
Oh, boy.
“I hear your sources are mistaken, Roger.” Her reply was steady, seemingly carefree and lacking any sense of worry. He coughed a throaty laugh, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
“I see.” His eyes were alight with amusement as he rested his elbows on the glass tabletop, then nodded at the chair beside Cameron “Have a seat, Cam.”
The emphasis he placed on her nickname annoyed her more than the rolling ‘r’ of his accent when he spoke her name fully, and she bit back “Don’t call me Cam.”
Eyes burning with hatred she regarded him; they were not friends, and she wished they wouldn’t even be acquaintances, so what made him think she was ‘Cam’ to him? The smile vanished off Roger’s face as though it was snow succumbing to a wave of heat “Cam.” he repeated coldly, straitening up and towering over her “I said: Sit down.”
“You are not my employer anymore, Roger; you’ve just told me that. Give me one good reason to follow your orders.”
He grimaced, irritated, then sat himself back down in his rotating chair, the leather creaking slightly as he did. For a split second Cameron was surprised, assuming he was speechless. One hand disappeared from view under the table, only to retreat from beneath the wood and set a gun on the tabletop with a metallic clang. Her eyes widened as she backed away slightly, her leg bumping into the edge of the chair.
“Now do you have reason enough to follow my orders?” He puckered his brow, tilting his head to the right as he smiled menacingly. Stroking his finger along the handgrip of the gun he smirked “For your sake, I hope you do.”
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