115
The conference room buzzed with quiet preparation. Executives shuffled papers, marketing leads reviewed their notes, and the hum of whispered conversation filled the sleek glass-walled space. At the head of the long table, a place sat ready documents neatly stacked, a pitcher of water waiting.
Ericka entered first, her presence silencing the room. Her navy suit was sharp, her stride purposeful, and her expression unreadable. She carried herself as though nothing in the world could shake her composure.
Amanda followed a step behind, notepad in hand, her posture polished and professional. But beneath her calm exterior, her pulse still raced, the heat from their stolen moment in Ericka's office lingering just beneath her skin.
Ericka took her seat at the head of the table, and Amanda slid smoothly into the chair beside her, placing her notepad in front of her.
To anyone else, it was routine an assistant ready to support her boss.
But Amanda felt the brush of Ericka's knee against hers under the table, deliberate and grounding.
The meeting began. Department heads launched into updates, flipping through charts and projections. Amanda kept her focus sharp, jotting down key points, occasionally leaning over to murmur a quick reminder or pass a highlighted note to Ericka.
Numbers glowed across it in neat bars and percentages, the marketing director pointing with a laser pen as he explained projections and expense allocations. Executives around the table shuffled papers, adjusted glasses, and scribbled notes in hurried strokes.
Amanda kept her notepad angled just so, her pen moving in smooth, deliberate lines.
Every so often, she slid a highlighted sheet toward Ericka, or tapped once against a column in the report, giving her just the right detail at the right time.
Her focus was sharp, her expression calm, but her senses were attuned to Ericka's every move beside her.
Halfway through a particularly dense slide, Ericka leaned back in her chair. The motion was subtle, controlled, but then her fingers shifted against the tabletop, curling twice in a small beckoning gesture.
Amanda caught it instantly. Her chest tightened. She leaned in, careful and composed, her notepad angled to shield the closeness from wandering eyes. The faint brush of her arm against Ericka's sleeve was enough to make her breath quicken, though her expression didn't change.
Ericka's voice dropped low, steady as a whisper, her lips close enough to make Amanda's ear tingle. "Look at the expense allocation on this slide," she murmured. "It's not aligned with last quarter's projections."
Amanda's eyes flicked to the screen. A small crease formed between her brows as she spotted it immediately the inconsistency that had slipped past the presenter. Her pen hovered, then she whispered back, calm and precise: "Noted. That doesn't look correct I'll look into it more for you."
The corner of Ericka's mouth tugged upward just faintly, a subtle flash of satisfaction. "Good," she breathed, before straightening back in her chair, her focus returning to the table as if nothing had happened.
Amanda leaned back as well, her notes resuming in flawless order, her face unreadable.
The next slide clicked onto the screen, numbers and jargon cluttered across it in mismatched fonts, the presenter's voice stumbling as he tried to explain away the inconsistencies.
At the head of the table, Ericka leaned back ever so slightly, her pen resting between her fingers. She exhaled slowly, a sigh that carried more meaning than words ever could. The sound was quiet, but in the silence-heavy room, it carried like a warning.
Her chest rose and fell as she drew in another deliberate breath, steady and controlled, before letting it out again. The executives at the table shifted uneasily, their pens stalling mid-sentence.
Ericka lowered her gaze to the packet in front of her, circling a line of figures in calm, precise strokes. The action was smooth, deliberate measured. She didn't look up. She didn't need to. The red ink cutting across the numbers was enough to make two directors glance at one another nervously.
Beside her, Amanda didn't flinch. She kept her notepad steady, her voice low, pitched only for Ericka. "Already noted."
The faintest flicker crossed Ericka's features a small acknowledgment, a thread of approval.
She didn't speak, didn't correct the presenter, didn't break the flow of the meeting.
Instead, she let her silence hang, her slow breath and the deliberate circle of her pen saying more than any outburst ever could.
The room shifted under the weight of it, executives shifting in their seats, the tension almost physical.
The meeting dragged another twenty minutes, each slide only adding to the unease. Finally, when the last presenter cleared his throat and muttered, "That concludes the update," Ericka closed her folder with a quiet finality.
"Thank you," she said, her tone smooth but sharp enough to dismiss the room. She stood, her posture perfect, her notes tucked effortlessly under one arm. Without another glance, she strode out, the echo of her heels cutting through the silence.
Amanda calmly gathered her things, stacking them neatly. She stood to follow when she noticed the looks from around the table wide-eyed, tense, already bracing.
One of the executives leaned over, whispering, "We're staying late today, aren't we?"
Another groaned softly, already pulling their laptop closer.
Amanda tucked her pen into her notepad, her expression professional but touched with the faintest smile. "Looks that way," she replied evenly.
A few sighed, some shook their heads, and Amanda slipped out the door, her heels clicking softly as she followed after Ericka.
Amanda left the conference room, her notepad tucked firmly under her arm. The groans of the executives were replaced by the steady hum of the main office floor—phones ringing, keyboards clattering, printers humming.
But as soon as the regular staff saw her coming down the hall, they slowed. Heads turned, eyes lifted from screens. They were used to reading Amanda like a weather vane; when Ericka was upset, Amanda's expression usually gave them just enough warning to brace themselves.
Amanda gave a small shake of her head.
The reaction was instant. A wave of sighs rolled through the desks. Someone muttered, "Here we go again..." Another groaned under their breath, and one of the assistants near the break area stood with a resigned sigh. "I'll start the coffee."
The mood shifted like a ripple through the floor everyone knew what that shake of Amanda's head meant. The meeting hadn't gone well, and the fallout would come quickly.
Amanda kept walking, her heels clicking in a steady rhythm, her face composed even as she felt the tension buzzing around her.
Then, just as she approached Ericka's office, the sound shattered the air: a sharp, echoing slam as the door crashed against the frame.
The entire hallway jolted. A few staff members jumped in their seats, pens clattering against desks.
Before the silence could settle, another sound followed the unmistakable crash of something breaking inside Ericka's office. Glass? A picture frame? Amanda's chest tightened instantly.
She drew in a steadying breath, squared her shoulders, and pushed forward. Her hand hovered at the door handle for half a beat, listening to the faint, tense silence that followed the crash.
Amanda didn't hesitate. The echo of glass breaking still hung in the air as she turned the handle and pushed Ericka's office door open.
Inside, Ericka stood near her desk, shoulders tight, her jaw sharp with frustration. A picture frame lay face-down on the floor, glass glittering in shards. Her blazer was half-open, her breathing just a little too quick.
Before Amanda could close the door, Ericka's voice cut across the room sharp, clipped, laced with fury. "Now what was that?"
The words carried, spilling out into the hallway where a few staff members were still trying to look busy while clearly listening. Their heads jerked up, eyes flicking toward Amanda in alarm.
Amanda didn't flinch. She lifted one finger toward them without even turning her head, her silent signal to stand down. Then she looked back over her shoulder, her voice calm but firm. "I got it. It's okay."
The staff exchanged uneasy glances, but her tone was steady enough that they dropped their eyes back to their work.
Amanda shut the door behind her with a soft click, sealing the storm inside with her.
Now it was just her and Ericka.