Page 61 of Shark’s Edge

“Will do, but you need to focus. Everything that goes on from this point forward is vital.”

“Bas.” He put his hand up to stop me from launching into a full lecture. “I know. I got this.”

As the tall man opened the door to leave, I jogged my memory for the name of the girl he wanted me to ask for at the stable. “Who did you want me to ask for? Silvia? Shanna?” I scowled, knowing I was coming up short. It was frustrating that I couldn’t remember something so simple as a name from twenty minutes before.

“Shawna,” he called over his shoulder, grinning the way he had the first time he mentioned her name. Maybe I needed to ask for her instead. She certainly had left an impression on my buddy. While I was preoccupied with Grant, Terryn had walked up behind me and patiently waited for me to finish the conversation.

“Good morning, Mr. Shark. Have you had a chance to review your schedule for today?”

“Of course I have. Did you need something?” I answered without emotion in my tone or expression on my face.

“No, sir. I was just checking if I could help with anything before the day gets going,” she said sprightly, as if she were trying to be upbeat enough for the both of us.

I just stared at her. What was she playing here? I shifted my eyes from one side of her oval face to the other. “Have you finished the container supplier spreadsheet I asked you to create three days ago?”

“Yes. It should be in your email. I sent it when I got in this morning. I also put a copy in the company’s Dropbox files.” She looked very pleased with herself as she gave her report.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to remember what else I had tasked her with yesterday afternoon.

“I need you to look at my schedule for the next two weeks and see where I can fit in a tour and thirty-minute meet-and-greet with a youth outreach group. Sometime after key business hours and school hours. You’ll have to investigate the LAUSD middle and high school release times and estimate commute time to the office. I don’t mind if I have to stay late to give the tour and presentation myself.” I paused briefly, giving that point a bit more thought. “In fact, I want to do the tour myself.”

Terryn wrote feverishly on a notepad she always had with her and then asked a follow-up, “Do you have a contact person for the group you’d like me to call to set this up?”

“No, I’ll handle that. Just give me two date options I can present. You can send that information to me in an email as well. I don’t want to be disturbed until I leave for lunch.” I finished the decree as I went through my office doorway and closed the door swiftly behind me.

Of course, the moment I sat down at my desk, my plans changed. An email arrived from the legal department insisting documents needed my signature before they could be submitted to the planning commission. Two more messages back and forth, and I threw my pen across the suite so hard, it ricocheted off a chair at the conference table and into the floor-to-ceiling window on the opposite wall.

“Jesus Christ.” I stood abruptly, my chair slinging into the low bookcase behind my desk, rattling the pictures and potted plant on the shelves. When I stormed past Terryn, I said, “I’m going down to legal.”

My office door stood wide open, but my computer would go into sleep mode in thirty seconds without activity, and everything else that was sensitive inside those walls was under lock and key. The lights were motion activated as well to save on energy, so they would shut off on their own after about five minutes.

Thirty minutes later, I returned to my office, madder than a nest full of hornets. The papers that needed my signature weren’t ready when I arrived, so I stood around wasting valuable time while the intern who initially emailed me fumbled around the office, trying to load a new toner cartridge in his printer so the documents could be printed. I finally took matters into my own hands and not only fixed the printer but sent the file to the printer from his work station, signed the documents, scanned them, and emailed them back to myself from his email account.

Talk about just doing things yourself if you wanted them done right the first time.

As I rounded the corner from the elevator, I noticed the light was on in my office. Maybe Grant was finished with his meeting and had returned to fill me in. Terryn knew better than to let anyone else in there without me present.

As she came rushing toward me looking like she knew her job hung by a fragile thread, I knew it wouldn’t be Grant inside my personal sanctum.

I glared at her, and she clamped her mouth shut, taking a few steps back from the doorway.

When I cleared the arch, I saw Abbigail Gibson standing at the windows, looking out over the city like she had every right to be doing so. I quietly closed the door behind me, not alerting her to my presence until the knob clicked into the slot that kept it closed.

“What an unexpected surprise,” I said nonchalantly, strolling over to my desk. I didn’t couple the word pleasant with surprise in my comment because I could feel the offensive waves pulsing off her. Not defensive this time.

No, not this visit.

She was here to attack. Full artillery in place. And it would appear her sights were set directly on me.

Perfect.

Because this day wasn’t enough of a shit show already.

“We need to talk, Mr. Shark,” she said, not turning away from the window. Her voice was cool and calm, missing its usual oozing caramel seduction or emotion-filled rasp.

“Funny. I was thinking the same thing. Just this morning, in fact,” I said low in my throat, volume barely in the range of normal conversation. A shift from my usual commanding mien.

She finally turned to look at me. “Really?” she asked with a hopeful look before catching herself and schooling her features.