Half an hour later we arrive at the top floor. “Hello.” Courtney smiles. “Just go in, he’s expecting you.”
Bob, Joel, and I exchange glances.
“Great.” I fake a smile, we walk through, and I drop my shoulders and steel myself for his onslaught.
Elliot Miles is a lot of things; weak is not one of those.
Bob knocks on the door. “Come in,” the deep voice calls.
“Fuck this,” Joel whispers.
I smile—it’s actually hilarious how scared the boys are of him.
We walk in to find Elliot sitting behind his desk. He sits back and raises his chin to the sky and I instantly know that stance.
He’s not mad, he’s raging fucking angry.
“You wanted to see us,” I ask.
He points to the conference table with his pen. “Let’s sit over there.”
I exhale.
I hate that fucking table.
He stands and undoes his suit jacket with one hand—he’s wearing a navy suit and a fitted crisp white shirt—takes his jacket off and throws it over the back of his chair, his tight behind on display. As he stands I can see the muscles flex in his shoulder as he pulls his chair out.
Great, just what I need to see—suit porn.
His dark hair is hanging over his forehead and his eyes are a brilliant blue. It would really help my cause if he got a little uglier.
“I want to talk to you about the internet outage last week.” He slaps the printed report on the table in front of us. I’m instantly pulled out of my daydream.
Focus.
“I thought you might,” I mutter under my breath.
“Explain it to me,” he says.
I open my mouth to speak.
“Not you. Joel,” he interrupts.
Joel and Bob exchange nervous glances.
“Well, we had to upload a new system into our admin site and to do this we needed to add a new WAP code.”
Elliot picks up his pen and holds it in his hand as he listens.
“What we didn’t realize was, that when we added the new WAP code it was going to completely override the system for the entire building.”
“Why didn’t you realize that?” Elliot stares at him blankly.
Joel shrugs.
“Isn’t it what I pay you for? An IT expert to stop an impending disaster before it comes to fruition.”
Joel goes to open his mouth and then shuts it again; his eyes flick to me for reassurance and I give him a stifled smile.
“Don’t look at Kathryn, look at me. Who specifically out of you three uploaded the system?”
“I approved it,” I reply.
“That’s not what I asked,” Elliot replies sharply. “Who uploaded this system?”
Fuck’s sake.
“I did,” Bob whispers.
Elliot sits back in his chair, and glares at Bob. “Tell me . . . Bob.” He sneers. “How many Miles Media employees are in this building?”
Bob swallows the lump in his throat. “Around two thousand, sir.”
“Two thousand, one hundred and seventy-one,” Elliot barks. “And what do you estimate the hourly wages are for that many people, Bob?”
Bob begins to perspire.