Chapter 11
“That’ll be seven dollars even, Rohit.”
The words vibrated between Rohit’s ears in a faint, nonsensical buzz, and he blinked at the credit card hanging limply between his fingers.
“Seven dollars, Rohit?”
Rohit knew he was supposed to do something now, but the heavy, bitter scent of roasted coffee beckoned his senses, the familiar, soothing aroma urging his eyelids to lower over dry, tired eye sockets.
Hadn’t he read somewhere that coffee was a lot like alcohol in enhancing one’s present state of mind?
“All?, Rohit? Rohit!”
With a little jolt, Rohit’s eyes popped open to find the barista, Camille, staring at him from behind the cash register at Tim Hortons, amusement flitting across her face.
He didn’t blame her for laughing at him—he probably looked as good as he felt.
He’d hit the snooze on his alarm too many times this morning, forcing him to settle for a thirty-second, cold-water rinse in the shower and skip ironing his shirt.
And it was all the Ice Princess’s fault.
“Rohit?” It wasn’t so much Camille’s prodding voice that snapped Rohit to attention but the gentle pressure of her hand on his wrist as she guided his credit card to the tablet so he could pay.
When his gaze lingered at where her palm touched his skin, she welcomed his attention by grazing her fingers over the back of his hand before pulling away.
Startled, Rohit lifted his eyes to her face to find that the hint of amusement on Camille’s face had transformed into a curiosity that was so obvious that Rohit’s sleepy stupor fled, leaving behind a dumbfounded corpse whose ears were turning red under the bold attention of a pretty barista.
Camille was always friendly when Rohit dropped in every morning for a cup of coffee.
No matter how crowded the restaurant was, or how harried the staff behind the counter looked as they hustled to fulfill drive-through orders, Camille always had a kind word for Rohit.
She was perky and welcoming and unbelievably cheerful before eight a.m. and yet she wasn’t—
No. Rohit would not let his mind wander into that dangerous, glacial territory.
Not after he’d been stood up last night.
It had been foolish to believe that he and Cynthia had reached some kind of understanding yesterday, that their last few conversations had laid the foundation for civility and, just maybe, friendship.
Of course, Cynthia was cold enough to engage him in a little light flirtation before lying through her perfect lips about putting their differences aside to work as a team.
She’d rather drink snake venom than collaborate with him.
And, knowing Cynthia, she was likely immune to poison and could run a marathon while it worked its way out of her system.
“Rohit, did you hear what I said?” Camille asked.
He grimaced again as he tucked his card away and palmed the coffees. “Sorry, Camille.”
“You’re working too hard,” she mused. “N’est-ce pas?”
Everything in Rohit’s being, right down to his leaden feet, felt like one long, groaning complaint, but he forced a chuckle instead. “Who isn’t hustling these days?”
Camille slid him a wink. “Well, if you ever decide you need a day off for something more…fun…let me know.”
A part of Rohit wanted to be taken in by Camille’s wide, clear blue eyes.
It would’ve been easy to be charmed by the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose or the flash of dimple in her left cheek.
Like him, she was an immigrant to Kelowna, kind of.
From Quebec, she’d told him once, to study at Okanagan College’s Kelowna campus.
A master’s in…anthropology? Or was it art history?
His brain couldn’t be bothered to remember; unfortunately, his mind was already at the office with her , wondering what she might say to him, especially after last night…and what she might be wearing today and—
Stop it , he admonished himself. You idiot.
And yet one thing was clear this morning. He wouldn’t be taking Camille up on her offer.
With a friendly and somewhat apologetic smile, Rohit stepped away from the counter. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said.
It must’ve been crystal clear to Camille, too, because her voice was considerably cooler when she threw a parting “à bient?t” at his retreating back.
The smell of prosciutto greeted Rohit when he stepped into his office at Kumar Construction, but he couldn’t add that to Cynthia’s growing list of transgressions.
He’d been so damn stupid, ordering a small spread of Italian sandwiches for the two of them last night.
How foolish he’d felt, shoving the uneaten food in the office fridge at a quarter after nine, two and a half hours longer than any self-respecting person would’ve waited.
It had been even more pathetic to believe that Cynthia would see the offering as a token of goodwill, that a humble offering of deli meat and gourmet cheese might pave the way for more of the things his baser instincts craved from her.
Banter. Her fiery, razor-edged intelligence. The way her eyes burned hot liquid amber when she was about to deliver a parting shot.
Rohit leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He should’ve stayed in bed. When he leaned forward to turn on his laptop, he spied Nancy from operations shuffling past his open doorway.
“Good morning, Nancy,” he called, his greeting punctuated by a poorly suppressed yawn. “Sorry,” he added with a sheepish smile.
The petite woman managed a nervous half smile and a tight little wave before scooting away. Weird. With five rambunctious grandchildren, Nancy rarely wasted the opportunity to show off their pictures on the phone she barely knew how to use.
But she was in a hurry this morning, as was the small-scale stampede that followed in her wake.
It wasn’t so much the volume of people lumbering past that caught Rohit’s attention but the varying degrees of nervousness on everyone’s faces.
No one bothered to wave or pop in with a quick hello as they normally would.
They moved like animals being led to slaughter. When Jilly, Cynthia’s anxious assistant, trotted by, she looked downright scared.
“Yannis,” Rohit called when the crowd began to thin. “Come here for a second.”
“What’s up, man?” the junior sales rep asked, his gaze on the departing crowd as he planted only one foot into Rohit’s office as if afraid to lose his spot in the death march.
“You tell me. Where’s everybody going?”
Yannis was already moving back into the hallway. “There’s a mandatory staff meeting.”
“There is?” Rohit furrowed his brows. He didn’t recall being invited to any such meeting, nor had Rich mentioned anything when Rohit had popped his head into the CEO’s office to deliver his usual coffee and apologize for missing their morning chat.
“Check your email,” Yannis advised before hurrying away.
Rohit opened his inbox and cracked his knuckles as he waited for it to load. Sure enough, a message had been sent to all the junior and administrative staff at 11:22 last night from Cynthia:
You’ve been selected to attend a staff meeting in the lunchroom at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, May 3. Attendance is mandatory.
No wonder people were on edge this morning.
The formal, abrupt tone was classic Cynthia, but to a random staff member, it sounded like an invitation to a mass layoff.
Rohit could just picture Cynthia waiting for the antsy livestock to arrive, sawed-off shotgun cocked and ready to put them out of their misery.
Rohit glanced at the time—9:03 a.m. —before standing and hurrying to join the rest of the staff.
What he found there triggered a symphony of alarm bells.
Unlike the rest of Kumar Construction’s corporate office, the lunchroom was nothing to brag about.
The kitchen was small with one rickety, linoleum table surrounded by four equally uncomfortable chairs.
The dining area gave way to a medium-sized sitting area complete with old, mismatched furniture and a television that was missing its remote.
Aside from using the fridge for their food, staff rarely hung out here, and right now they looked like they’d rather be anywhere else as they stood huddled in the space between the eating and sitting areas.
Their collective gaze was riveted on the sole table, which was covered with rows of sample-sized drinks arranged by color.
On the other side of the table stood Cynthia in deep conversation with a woman Rohit didn’t recognize.
Rohit offered the staff a reassuring smile before slipping into the narrow kitchen space to stand behind Cynthia.
The woman she was talking to was like a cartoon art teacher brought to life.
She wore a flowy, ruffled orange dress underneath a tie-dyed denim jacket, and her neck was adorned by at least four necklaces ranging from homemade to fine silver.
A dozen or so bracelets rattled around her wrists, tinkling the jittery percussion of an animated hand talker.
“The health benefits have been amazing,” the woman was gushing. “One month of TeamStart and I swear, my night terrors have all but disappeared! And my bowel movements—”
Rohit cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt. Cynthia, what’s going on?”
Cynthia shot him a smug smirk over her shoulder. “Watch and find out.” She then turned to address the staff, many of whom were staring at the exit. They stood to attention when Cynthia began to speak. “Thanks, everyone, for attending this last-minute staff meeting. We appreciate your time.”
At the mention of “we,” Rohit’s jaw clenched and he took a small step backward.
“As you all know,” Cynthia continued, “Kumar Construction is committed to providing staff with a positive and enjoyable work environment. Team building is very important to us.”