Chapter 2 #3
And again, until the chill began to numb the panicked heat crawling up his neck.
His chest loosened just enough to let him pull in a single, proper breath for the first time since stepping out of Gael Wise’s office.
He turned his wrists under the cold flow, holding them there until the skin flushed a raw, stinging pink.
He shut off the faucet with a twist and reached for a paper towel from the dispenser.
He straightened his tie, pulling the knot tight against his collar.
He smoothed the front of his jacket, brushing away invisible wrinkles.
He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, even though he knew everything was already perfectly aligned.
He forced himself to meet his reflection again. The color still hadn't fully returned to his face, leaving a greyish pallor beneath his skin. His eyes looked too alert, too bright. But his expression was almost neutral, a carefully constructed mask of composure.
Almost.
He exhaled, a long stream of air that pulled his tense shoulders down a full inch. No one out there would know. No one would ever guess what had just happened behind a locked bathroom door. They couldn't. He wouldn't let them.
He squared his stance, feeling the solid floor beneath his shoes, and stepped back from the sink.
He wasn’t ready to go back out there.
But he didn’t have a choice.
So he reached for the door handle, gathered the tattered remnants of his composure into a tight knot, and walked out because there was no other option.
The hallway lights felt harsher than they had earlier, their glare bouncing off the polished surfaces with an aggressive sheen, but he forced himself forward, retracing the exact path back to the open-plan workstations.
Every step felt too loud in his own ears, the sole of his dress shoe making a faint, sticky sound against the carpet fiber, but no one looked up from their screens, no one noticed his passage, and that blessed anonymity gave him just enough room to pull the frayed edges of himself together.
His desk appeared in view. He sat carefully, the ergonomic chair sighing as it accepted his weight. His fingers brushed the edge of the keyboard before drifting toward the mouse. His computer screen glowed to life, and his inbox blinked with a single, new message.
From: Gael Wise
Subject: Assignment — Immediate
He hesitated only a second before clicking it open.
The email was brief.
Four sentences, no greeting, no sign-off. Just bullet-point instructions outlining a preliminary review of a high-value client’s financial discrepancies, hyperlinks to two dense attachments, and a tight deadline.
“New guy?”
The voice came from somewhere to his right, startling him. Samuel straightened abruptly, and looked up.
Two associates stood at the edge of his workstation.
The man was slightly taller than Samuel, maybe early thirties, wearing a suit that belonged on the cover of a corporate magazine; a deep, liquid black, tailored within a thread of perfection, with cufflinks that probably cost more than Samuel’s entire wardrobe.
His hair was styled, not a single strand out of place. He wore a faint, knowing smirk.
Beside him stood a woman, maybe late twenties, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were a warm brown. She offered a small, genuine smile that inexplicably eased a fraction of the tightness coiled in his chest.
“Hi,” she said, her voice calm and even. “I’m Alina. You must be the new associate on Wise’s team, right?”
Samuel nodded, his throat dry as he tried to find his voice. “Samuel Ruiz. Yes. First day.”
“Lucky you,” the man said, the words dripping with a lazy, condescending amusement.
“George Wiseman.” He delivered his name like it should mean something, like it was a brand Samuel was expected to recognize.
He didn’t offer a handshake, just a curt, dismissive nod.
“We all rotate through assignments for Wise. Some of us get cycled out sooner than others.”
Samuel couldn’t tell whether that was meant to be helpful advice or a thinly veiled warning.
Alina slid a slightly exasperated glance at George before refocusing on Samuel, her smile softening at the edges. “He means the work is intense. But you’ll find your rhythm. How’s your morning been so far?”
Samuel cleared his throat, subtly adjusting his posture in the chair. “Busy. A little overwhelming, but… good.” The lie felt flimsy on his tongue.
George huffed a quiet, amused breath through his nose, his eyes scanning Samuel’s workstation. “Overwhelming is an understatement. You’ll get used to it, or you won’t.” Then his gaze drifted pointedly to Samuel’s monitor, where Wise’s email was still displayed. “Wise give you something already?”
Samuel hesitated, a flicker of possessiveness over the assignment making him want to minimize the screen. “Yes. First assignment.”
“Of course he did,” George murmured, a knowing, almost predatory glint in his eye. “Doesn’t waste any time.”
Alina shot him another look, this one half reprimand, half long-suffering amusement, before leaning in just slightly, directing her full, undivided attention back to Samuel.
“If you need anything explained, seriously, just ask. The document management system is a nightmare, and the research portals have their own secret handshake. We’ve all been the new person.
And Wise’s expectations can feel… a bit intense on day one. ”
Samuel felt the tight, wired tension in his shoulders ease by a tangible fraction.
“Thanks,” he said, and it came out steadier, more grounded than he expected. “I appreciate it.”
Alina smiled again, the kind that warmed a room without even trying. George simply folded his arms across his chest, his expression hovering between unimpressed and profoundly uninterested; Samuel couldn’t tell which.