"Come in," I call, rising from my desk and straightening my tie.
The door swings forward and Leo spills in. Smoky eyes, high heels, a silk shirt and that leather pencil skirt; either she wants to evoke a certain memory or she's a capsule wardrobe kind of girl. I'd go for the former. There are no capsule wardrobe girls in NY.
She isn't holding a gun (this time), but from the look on her face, she may as well be.
"You asked to see me?" She stops three paces into the room and tries to hide how she's appraising the decor.
"We haven't spoken since the acquisition. I just wanted to extend a warm welcome." I perch on the edge of my desk and tip my head, inviting her to come closer.
She doesn't move.
"How's your new office suite coming along?" I ask.
She cocks an eyebrow. "It's a mess."
"But you'll have it whipped into shape in no time, I bet."
"Time that would be better spent researching our streaming device. The one you were particularly interested in." She folds her arms beneath her breasts. "I also hear our relocation forced some of your employees to move offices. Hasn't exactly made us too popular."
"Ah. I see." I experiment with a grin. "You're more than welcome to join me at lunch, you know. Nobody'll bother you then."
"You're hilarious."
"Leo." I hop up straight and edge closer to her, just by a few paces. Close enough to get the tension prickling along my skin, along hers. "I brought you closer to simplify the acquisition. By the time we're fully integrated, trust me, it will be of great benefit for you guys to be so close to the main news room."
She stiffens. "And why would that be?"
I haven't told her about my intention to have her products stream directly to a Lore Corp website—nor will I. It'd be suicide. But I can drop breadcrumbs in conflicting directions, just to have a little fun. "We want SilentWitn3ss products and the public to help us make the news. I thought that was quite clear."
"But the footage will belong to the user," she says slowly.
"Indeed."
"Okay." She gives a single nod. "Will that be all?"
"Jeez, Leo. You're not one of my assistants—you don't have to talk like one."
At this, I'm treated to a small smile. She offers them so rarely; they highlight the blunt angle of her cupid's bow, the fullness of her bottom lip. "But I am part of your staff. We didn't merge, which would make you my boss."
"I don't want you to think of me like that."
Now, she finds the nerve to walk closer until we're just inches apart. My whole body braces; I stare down at her with heavy eyelids and a thudding heartbeat.
Leo clears her throat. "Funny. You've been rather bossy during our previous encounters."
"I'm prepared to treat you as an equal, professionally speaking."
"How very big of you."
"So you keep saying."
"Ha."
I should cut to the chase. I should put her over my desk, shove her skirt up and fuck her stupid—I wouldn't even lock the door. If Tuija came in, she'd probably just roll her eyes and start taking notes.
But this isn't just about a fuck. I saw it in her eyes when I had my fingers deep inside her, and as she looks at me, it rears its grotesque head again. Dark business afoot here. Power plays. Leo doesn't laugh at my crimes or shrug them off; she gives my horrors the reverence they deserve.
"Is there anything else?" I ask.
"No." She drops her gaze. "Like I said, that will be all."
"Then go clean up your offices before I lose patience."
She turns then, her head bowed and her cheeks flushing. "It will all be in order by the end of the week."
"I'll be keeping tabs, don't you worry." I want to touch her. My hands feel so empty in her presence, unsure whether to ball into enraged fists or splay to caress the full lines of her body. If I want her, I should reach out and take her, right?
Of all things, I am not gentle. It's not in me to be the tender lover or the merciful master who yields. But she makes me curious about that strange land between force and submission. The spiderweb of between.
I follow her, intending to hold the door open. She expects me to lunge. I see it in her unsure steps, the slight tremble of her fingers on the door handle, the very faint quiver in her voice as she says goodbye.
Here is a girl who knows of my sins, and has come to me anyway.
I know what I will do with her.
God help her, I can do nothing else.
***
When I enter Tuija's office at lunch, she's eating sushi at her desk and watching Netflix on her laptop.
I had the office built for her especially when we moved into the building seven years ago. It's not large, but half of it is taken up with her walk-in closet and ensuite bathroom. A plush leather couch against the left wall is draped with throws in linen and velvet, and a mini refrigerator holds bottled water, Coke in glass bottles and a tray of yoghurts. The scent of her sharp, clean perfume hangs in the air. The whole place is testament to the fact that quite often...she doesn't leave.
"You couldn't knock, Hitler?" She pushes her empty sushi box aside.