Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
“S-S-Sentimental.”
Yavok beaming so lovingly churns my empty stomach.
Ugh.
Due to his out of paygrade behaviors, I haven’t even had the chance to have a decent meal today.
“Mr. Messer was instructed by the foundation manager, Ioana Sweets, to drop by my office to discuss some discrepancies that had been recently brought into question.”
Yavok’s gaze latches onto mine.
“Interestingly enough, Mr. Messer claims that Ioana was given an order yesterday by my husband on my behalf.”
His blue-gray glare flashes the tiniest inkling of worry.
“Was she mistaken?” Keeping ire out of my tone is difficult but not impossible. “Was this request made by you? Did you feel the need to have Mr. Messer come down here to show me his personal records, which reflect that the issues we came across were nothing more than a computer glitch, something we already suspected?”
We both know it’s not a system error; however, the rest of the foundation doesn’t need to know that.
They need to think everything is fine.
That they’ve gotten away with it.
That I’m no longer interested in what was clearly just a “software malfunction”.
They need to let their guard down or ego flare ultimately revealing to me who the fuck they are so that proper reprimanding can occur.
I’m banking on the latter.
And I rarely ever bet wrong.
Yavok’s Adam’s apple slowly bobs prior to him cautiously answering my question, “Yes.”
The one word has me pressing my bright red painted lips firmly together.
“Simply…wanted to…” he clears his throat to assist in his struggle to use only English when in unfamiliar company, “be thorough…on our conclusion.”
“Thorough,” I politely echo on a forced grin. “Of course. That is exactly how I prefer to conduct business.”
My husband slightly winces from the word choice.
“My dedication to being thorough as you have so wisely put it is why I never called Mr. Messer in sooner.”
Yavok’s eyebrows twitch in confusion.
“Mr. Messer isn’t the careless type. He’s been with the foundation since it opened and every evaluation, he’s received during his duration states that he has an incredible attention to detail and an obsessive compulsion to not only triple check his work but to keep his own personal hardcopy records of everything he turns in.”
“Programs glitch,” Ken quietly interjects. “And I-I-I don’t want to be fired for something I didn’t do.” He rapidly shakes his head. “That I can prove I didn’t do. That I would never do, Mrs. Kessler.”
Rather than shift my stare away from my increasingly uncomfortable husband, I merely redirect my words, “I’m aware of that, Mr. Messer. Just as I’m aware your entire life is tied to this organization. You met your wife, Priyanka, the front desk receptionist, about three months after you started because you had to ask for a new keycard to get into the building. We had switched security companies on your day off, and you hadn’t been issued yours yet. You met your best friend, Gabe Jung, in IT, when he came to fix your computer about a year ago. He commented on your Pacman mug, you admired his Pacman keychain, and a nerdy bond was formed. You volunteer three times a week to tutor math students in under resourced areas as part of a program whose sole purpose is to advance education opportunities for those in marginalized communities because it reminds you of your own struggles that stemmed from growing up in the foster care system.”
“Y-y-y-you certainly know a lot of details about your employees, ma’am,” Ken uneasily fumbles out.
“That I do, Mr. Messer.” My head angles slightly to one side, eyes holding my husband’s hostage. “As it is my responsibility to know about all those under my employment. The choices that they do and do not make. The acceptable and non-acceptable actions they do or do not choose to act upon.”
Yavok’s Adam’s apple bobs a second time indicating my message has been received.
“You owe Mr. Messer an apology for wasting his time and more importantly, mine.”
The man I married slowly rearranges himself to face the individual who is shaking worse than a soaking wet teacup poodle. “I apologize.”
“I-I-I-It’s okay,” Ken stammers out at the same time he transfers the file back into his possession. “These things happen.”
“These things shouldn’t happen,” I bluntly bite, statement thrown my spouse’s direction prior to me making eye contact with the timid man once more. “And they won’t again, Mr. Messer.”
He enthusiastically nods his comprehension.
“Enjoy lunch on the foundation today.” My smile remains polite and professional in spite of my silent seething. “It’s the least we can do for this inconvenience.”
“Oh…” his body sways side to side as he stands up, “that’s not…necessary, Mrs. Kessler. I-I-I-I’m okay. I-”
“Will enjoy lunch on me today.”
Ken buckles under the firmness – yet again – proving he lacks the sac it would take to steal from his employer of all people. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Evans will escort you to the elevator.”