Chapter 4 It's all right

"It's all right," Cullen assured her. "Please use the napkin to clean up as much of the puddle on the table as you can and then bring the tray with you when you leave."

"Of course. Sorry. So sorry." She wanted to run out of the room. Just flee the scene and not to look back.

But something held her in place. She took the napkin from the tray and used it to soak up as much of the coffee as she could. Very quickly, the napkin was soaked through and there was still liquid on the table.

"Shall we begin, Mister Sharpe?" one of the younger men at the table asked.

"Our time's limited," one of the older men agreed, "so we really should start the meeting already."

Ivy felt her face flush as she realized she'd not only spilled coffee on the owner of the company, but she'd also disrupted the important meeting he was in, adding insult to injury.

"We have plenty of time," Cullen replied. He gave her yet another smile, which should have made her feel better, but instead served only to increase her mounting anxiety.

"That said, nothing keeps us from starting the meeting," the older fellow pushed back.

Cullen fixed the man with a firm stare. "We start when I say we start, Jim. Unless things have changed around here in the last five minutes and I wasn't aware of it."

"No, nothing's changed," the old man said softly.

The room got even quieter, if such a thing was possible.

Her heart was pounding and she felt faint, but she'd done all she could to clean up. Her gaze kept straying to the dark stain on Cullen Sharpe's pants.

Hot coffee splashed all over his leg and he hadn't even batted an eyelash. That kind of self-control was strange.

Almost inhuman.

Most people would've screamed in pain and probably run out of the room to strip their pants off.

The liquid had been scalding hot.

Whatever the reason, he seemed completely fine and not at all perturbed. Which made no sense, considering how important it was to make everything perfect for him in the first place.

Ivy grabbed the tray and bowed her head. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered, as she prepared to leave.

Cullen gave her another enigmatic smile. "I was thinking about your name," he said. "I suppose you must grow on people," he continued, crinkling his eyes, showing he was teasing her gently with his play on words.

"With first impressions like this, I suppose I must," she muttered, and then hurried out, praying she didn't fall headlong across the floor and make an even bigger fool of herself.

Once she got out of the conference room, she shut the door and pressed her back against it, closing her eyes momentarily.

The hallway was empty.

She was holding the tray and coffee and had nowhere to put it, and her badge wouldn't let her back into the super secret pantry without Emma Marks.

But the last thing she wanted to do was tell the cranky, judgmental supervisor that she'd spilled coffee all over the head of the company and needed to bring the tray back to the pantry already.

Still, Emma would likely find out from Cullen Sharpe what had happened and Ivy would be unceremoniously let go, one way or the other.

It's over.

Might as well pack my things and leave now.

She sighed. A sensation of deep regret, of having missed out on something important, washed over her.

"What are you doing?" the harsh voice said with venom.

Ivy turned and saw that Emma Marks had just come around the corner and was staring at her with suspicion.

"I-I need to put the tray back."

Emma made a face and looked down at the tray. "Why? What happened? Why is everything wet? What did you do now?"

"Some coffee spilled. He told me to bring the tray with me when I left."

Emma's expression hardened. "You spilled coffee? Are you totally inept?"

"It was an accident."

"Come on, then." Emma shook her head and quickly began walking. "I don't know what Mister Sharpe was thinking when he asked you to do that job. Anyone could see you don't have what it takes."

Ivy wanted to tell her off. She wanted to say that bringing the boss coffee wasn't exactly a difficult task and anybody could do it.

Except I couldn't, she reminded herself.

I'm not even qualified to bring Cullen Sharpe a cup of coffee and I proved it today.

***

She'd only been back at her cubicle for another hour or so when the desk phone began ringing again.

Terrified, she couldn't bring herself to pick up the receiver at first. It might be Cullen again. What was he going to say? Would he tell her that she would be docked pay because of the damage to his expensive pants?

Just pick up the damn phone, Ivy. He's only a man. Now answer the phone and talk to him like he's a normal person.

Of course, he wasn't just anybody. And her hesitation cost her dearly, because when she picked up the phone, whoever had been calling hung up.

Ivy waited for the phone to ring once more, but it never did.

A few minutes later, Emma Marks came into view and headed for her desk. It was obvious that whatever news the blond woman was bearing, was not good.

Ivy sighed, slung her purse over her shoulder and prepared to hand off her badge. Just from the dour look on Emma's face, Ivy already knew she was being let go.

"Come on," Emma said. "Get up."

She stood, feeling a little sick to her stomach, but also a little relieved. It had been a hard, not very fun day, and it would be good to put this place and this experience behind her.

Even though she would wonder about Cullen Sharpe and that strange smile he'd given her, and perhaps a part of her would regret not getting to see more of him. Something about the man was captivating, and it wasn't just his incredible looks and his wealth.

As she was leaving, she saw Lucas sitting in a cubicle about four rows off, and he looked up at them with a quizzical expression.

"You're going? They cut you?" he asked, seemingly almost comically worried.

She started to nod, but Emma Marks spoke loudly. "No, she's not being cut. But you will be if you don't mind your own business and get back to work."

The tall blond started walking as Ivy wondered what was happening if she wasn't being let go.

"I thought I was being fired," Ivy said.

Emma laughed bitterly. "I don't get it. All you do is sit there looking ditzy, and you get rewarded. Just when I think life can't get any more unfair, I'm proven wrong again."

"Rewarded? What do you mean?" Ivy asked.

"Mister Sharpe asked to have you brought to his office. He wants to see you. Again." Emma's voice dripped with jealousy and resentment.

"He's probably firing me personally."

"If only that were the case," Emma retorted. "Then the universe would actually make sense again."

They walked to a bank of elevators and got inside. Emma held her badge to a sensor and then pressed the button for the eleventh floor.

Ivy tried to imagine what could be the reason for Cullen Sharpe's request that she come to his office. It couldn't be anything good, that much was certain.

The elevator ride was completely silent, as the blond supervisor stood next to Ivy and fumed. Emma's bad energy radiated outward like a toxic cloud.

Why does she despise me so much? What did I ever do to her?

That was beside the point now, however. Emma Marks was small potatoes.

The doors pinged and opened into a white hallway that was carpeted and wide. It had a different feel from the lower floors.

Emma didn't step out of the elevator. "Off you go," she said. "Have fun."

Ivy stepped out and then turned to look at her supervisor. "Where do I go now?"

The blond woman just gave her a sarcastic wave. "Buh bye!" she said, as the doors swished closed.

Bitch. Total bitch.

Ivy was angry, sick of being treated like crap for no reason at all. She turned away from the elevator and examined her surroundings. The hallway stretched out in both directions and then branched off into unknown territory.

She decided to just pick a direction and go with it. Eventually, she'd come across someone and ask that person where to go.

Walking briskly, she tried to breathe and keep calm.

You don't know what he wants. It could be something silly.

Maybe he's going to tell you to pay his dry cleaning bill.

That thought made her smile a little. As she got to the end of the hallway, she came to a closed door with one of those sensor pads.

Great. I don't have security clearance.

Still, she took her own badge and held it up to the sensor, which stayed red.

"Fuck," she swore under her breath.

Was Emma Marks just screwing with her-playing some kind of prank?