Chapter 3 Day One, Demon Spawn
Leaving the wall, I head for the little kitchenette, and Jason comes after me.
"Now, I have to call Fae Choi's assistant to tell her the meeting she threatened to cancel three times is now moving by two hours," I mutter, standing on my toes to open the cabinet, but Jason gets it for me.
He picks out the bag of coffee beans and hands it to me. "Here you go."
"Thanks," I whisper, before continuing my little rant. "Can you imagine doing that after all the begging I did to lock her in the original slot?"
Angrily, I pour some beans into the grinder with more force than necessary.
"I hate how unserious this makes me look."
It's not your fault," Jason says softly.
"Yeah, well, Fae's not going to think that. She's not going to care."
I hit the button, and the coffee starts to brew.
Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms and exhale deeply.
The warm, tantalising smell of coffee is the only thing keeping me less anxious at the moment.
"So, what brings you up here?" I ask with a smile. "Don't tell me you were dying to see me."
Jason lets out a guffaw and steps a little closer. "Well…" he drawls, giving me a playful once-over, "I mean, seeing you is definitely the highlight of my morning."
I laugh, touching my chest. "You flatter me."
"But, truth be told," He grins, lifting the stack of papers in his hand. "The printer on our floor died. Again. I had to come steal yours."
Jason is a handsome guy. His brown hair is always neatly styled, his brown eyes are cute, and his smile is so boyishly charming that it could woo anyone.
Jason is a good man, and Beverly has tried to push me toward dating him more than once. But the spark just isn't there for me.
I'm not going to encourage something that ends with me breaking the heart of one of the few decent men in this place.
"You'll survive him, Scarlett," Jason says, still grinning at me softly. "You're tougher than you look."
I check the coffee and let it brew some more. "Let's hope Mr L & M finds his hacker fast and gets the hell out of New York."
Jason hands me a mug.
"The sooner he leaves, the sooner I stop having homicidal thoughts before twelve p.m." I turn off the machine and pour it into the mug. "Want some?'' I ask nicely.
He declines politely with a shake of his head. "Oh, he'll find the guy. If anyone can trace a breach back to the exact keyboard it was typed on, it's Lawrence Moore."
I raise a curious eyebrow. "He's that good?"
"He's that good." Jason leans a hip against the counter. "He built a fully functional network-security prototype at sixteen."
I act like I know what that means, shaking my head in awe.
"It caught the attention of a billionaire philanthropist who wrote him a blank check and shipped him straight to MIT, where he topped his class. The rest, they say, is history."
I whistle. "Impressive."
Jason nods. "Yeah. Sometimes I think if I had even ten percent of that brain, I'd be the proudest man on earth."
"Oh, yeah?" I smirk, picking up the mug. "Gotta take this to him before he reprimands me for being…"
I pause, searching for the right insult. "…chronologically irresponsible."
Jason winks at me. "Try not to spill it on him. I hear he bites."
"Oh, trust me," I mutter, smoothing my blouse with one hand while balancing the cup in the other, "if I spill anything on that immaculate white shirt of his, it won't be by accident."
His laugh follows me out the door. "I'll start writing your eulogy now!"
I hold the mug carefully, take a deep breath, and walk towards the office where that demon spawn lives.
See me through this day, Lord.
And maybe tomorrow.
And every day until he leaves.
Amen.
I knock, then wait for a moment before stepping in.
Lawrence is on the phone, standing by the window, his back to me. One hand rests against the frame.
I try not to notice his powerful forearms, and fail horribly.
"No." He snaps. "I don't care what the timeline says. If their security layer has that vulnerability, we're not signing. Period."
A pause ensues. Someone on the other end is arguing.
"I said period, Marcus. Fix it or kill the deal. Those are your options."
He hangs up without saying goodbye, then turns.
Sharp green eyes shift to me, moving to the mug in my hands.
"Your coffee," I say.
He walks to his desk, dropping into his chair, and holding out his hand without looking up.
I cross the room quickly and place the mug carefully in his outstretched palm.
Lawrence takes a sip, his expression remaining blank. "You call this coffee?" he asks, pausing to stare into the cup like he's disgusted.
I keep my face perfectly composed. Years of dealing with difficult executives have taught me the value of a blank smile when someone is trying to provoke me.
"That's how we brew it here, Mr Moore," I say calmly. "If it isn't to your preference, I can note your specifications for tomorrow."
He sets the mug down slowly, something on the screen of his system catching his attention.
"Tomorrow," he mutters flatly. "We'll see if that dreadful coffee machine survives until tomorrow."
Heat crawls up my neck in anger. Folding my hands at my back so he won't see them balling into fists in anger, I maintain a calm expression.
Then he exhales. "No," he says, dryly. "Don't bother. You've already traumatised me enough for one morning."
Lawrence finally lifts his unreadable green gaze to me. "That will be all, Miss Thorn. You may go."
I nod and turn, leaving the office.
Traumatised him.
The coffee. My
coffee. The coffee half the floor drinks without complaint.
I laugh internally because if office coffee is enough to traumatise Lawrence Moore, then God help whatever poor soul actually hacked our systems.
They're going to need more than therapy when he's done with them.
Jay is still lingering near the kitchenette when I storm over.
He takes one look at my face and winces.
"It went bad, I guess," he says quietly.
"Jason, I need to get out of the building before I say something that ends my career," I whisper, letting out a breath.
"Calm down," he chuckles.
"You should've seen his face when he drank my coffee. Acted like he was taking piss."
"Damn, what's his problem?" Jay asks. "Your coffee tastes great." He says with a smile.
"Right? Thank you."
I roll my eyes.
Jay pats my shoulder pitifully. "I have to get back to work. Take care, okay?"
"Sure. Thanks, Jay," I whisper.
He winks. "Anytime, Scar."
I watch him walk away, then turn to head back to my station.
Lawrence Moore is brilliant—a fact.
For all I care, the man probably dreams in binary. But you know what else is a fact?
The fact that he's also—on day one
—an entitled, sleep-deprived (because I want to assume that's the only solid reason he's acting like this) jackass.
Once back at my station, I settle in and try toforget everything that happened a while ago.
I've worked with and survived problematic bosses before. What's one more arrogant tech billionaire to add to the list?