IV

“And the key to our future. The key to our future. The key to our future.” Blair bit down on her nail, silently scolded herself, and then clasped her hands in front of her as she hurried down the MediCenter’s glass-lined corridor. “Damn. I could’ve done better. That’s the worst part about going live. There’s no opportunity to make adjustments or edits.”

“Nonsense. You did great.” Blair’s new assistant’s words were rushed and breathy as her short legs worked to keep up. “Really, Ms. Scott, you are an asset. A real asset. Everybody thinks so.” Her assistant’s constant need to please made Blair’s teeth hurt.

“Your name,” Blair snapped her fingers. “I’ve forgotten it already.”

“Wyndham, Ms. Scott. Maxine Wyndham.”

Sure, Blair might seem a bit tough, and may have gone through more assistants than years she’d been alive, but that was only because none of them were a right fit. She needed someone dedicated. As dedicated as she was. And that wasn’t easy to find.

Blair would have a cot brought to her office at Westfall’s downtown MediCenter, which served as the Key Corp headquarters of the New American West Coast, if it meant a greater career edge. She’d once considered curling up on her plush throw rug, but felt it would create the wrong optics. Each one of the assistants Career Placement had assigned her had pretended to feel the way she did, but it was obvious they didn’t possess the same strain of dedication Blair had coursing through her veins. She’d even weighed letting her brother give it a shot, but she knew how that would end.

The Leightons, Blair’s parents, had both worked hard for the long, prestigious titles they’d tacked in front of their surnames. After their deaths, Cath Scott had adopted Blair, and the Key had pressured her to take Cath’s last name. Unity, that’s what the corporation had been striving after. That’s how battles were won and power reigned, and Blair understood those facts completely. It was a fair trade-off. The silver lining to her unbelievably stormy life. A new last name that practically oozed power in exchange for her fate as an orphan. Even if she’d had a choice, she would have taken that name. Cath had not only completed a doctorate but had also risen to director of Career Placement at the MediCenter. That made Blair as close to an example of born and raised in as anyone was going to get.

But, for some reason, every assistant placed with Blair assumed that her desire to be on top meant that she needed some kind of yes person. That, however, was not how the saying went. Behind every strong woman was a sea of strong women, not behind every strong woman was a sea of yes-minded drones. Why didn’t anyone understand that?

Blair turned down the corridor that led to her office and stopped short of the door. “Ms. Wyndham.” She swiveled to face her pretty new assistant. “I appreciate all you’ve done . . .”

Black.

She categorized the lie immediately. Although, black was far from the worst kind. Blair was always lying to someone. Like luggage on a trip, lies followed her to each destination. She had to pack them up every night just to unload them in the morning. To keep track, she’d developed a sort of guide. It also served as a guilt meter—Blair felt it was the least she could do to make note of how guilty she should feel if she ever decided to turn that part of herself back on.

Red lies were lies that, if they were corporeal, would draw blood. And then there were black lies. Blair would never feel anything about black lies. They were empty holes of nothingness. Words slid so gracefully into conversation that their absence would have been felt more seriously than their addition.

Blair hooked a soft smile to the corners of her lips and continued. “But I really don’t think you’re right for this position.”

Maxine’s cheeks flushed and the tip of her thin nose turned pink. “I don’t understand. I thought everything was going well.”

“It is . . .” Black. “But our styles are too different.”

Maxine’s nose twitched, and she rubbed her red, puffy eyes.

Blair forced her palms flat against each other to keep them from balling into fists. People where always hemorrhaging their feelings all over the place. If Blair could keep hers buttoned up, there was no reason why others couldn’t also. “Now, Maxine, please don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pants pocket and dabbed her eyes.

Blair dug her pinky nail into her palm, relaxing slightly as a jolt of pain sparked up her arm. “Really, tears are nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Black.

Blair unclasped her hands, unfolding herself in an attempt to look more open and approachable. “So far, what I need and what those assigned to me have been able to supply have been two vastly different things. It’s nothing personal.”

“This,” with the square of fabric Maxine gestured to her sliminess before slipping the handkerchief back into her pocket. “Is because of my allergies. They always flare up this time of year and turn me into a leaking mess.”

“Oh.” The revelation stung. Blair possessed an uncanny sense for sniffing out others’ lies, and this had the air of truth. She didn’t necessarily want to make people cry. But she did want people to want to work for her so badly that the thought of getting fired would at least have them on the verge of tears.

“If I’m honest, Ms. Scott, and, may I be honest? Actually . . .” Maxine waved her hands as if erasing the question. “I’m going to be honest whether or not you want to hear it. This style doesn’t work for me either. When I received word that I was assigned this position, I was ecstatic. We’re both twenty-three and I am in awe of what you’ve been able to accomplish. I thought working for you would be an amazing learning experience. Then I heard about the ways your past assistants had treated you. So, in order to work with you, I became that. And I have to say that I really don’t like it. You’re great, but you already know that. I hate being the person who follows you around with the sole purpose of managing your ego. It’s insulting.” Her pointed chin lifted. If not for the fact that Blair was a head taller, Maxine would have been looking down the end of her nose at her new boss. “Insulting to both of us.”

Blair inhaled, slowly and deeply.

“Ms. Scott,” Maxine continued, “I do want to stay, but only if I’m able to be honest with you. I also have a lot of connections and can—” Blair held up a finger and Maxine’s jaw clamped shut.

There might be a nice balance with Maxine. A fiery subservience Blair could enjoy.

Blair scraped her gaze down the petite young woman, her straight blond hair, snowy complexion, and pointed heels. “Call me Blair.” Her office doors opened with a hiss as she passed her cuff under the scanner. “And, Maxine, when the bots come by with my coffee, tell them I want it black.”