Artwork more expensive.
Assistants sat outside large offices like air-traffic controllers.
Amara rolled the cart slowly.
A receptionist looked up.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m assigned to the conference room.”
“Boardroom?”
“Yes.”
The receptionist checked the time.
“They're using it at nine.”
“I know.”
“You have twenty minutes.”
Her tone was efficient, not condescending.
Amara nodded.
“Plenty.”
The receptionist smiled.
“Good luck. They make a mess.”
Amara smiled back.
“People usually do.”
Inside the executive conference room, the city stretched beyond floor-to-ceiling windows.
Thirty-two leather chairs surrounded a long walnut table.
Individual screens were built into the surface, but none were active.
Water glasses.
Notepads.
Silver pitchers.
Small bowls of fruit.
Everything looked immaculate.
Amara began wiping fingerprints from the far edge.
At 8:41, Richard Harlan entered.
Early.
She knew his face well.
Forty-three.
White.
Tall.
Carefully styled blond-brown hair.
Expensive navy suit.
Luxury watch.
The kind of executive whose clothing always looked camera-ready.
He entered speaking on his phone.
“No.”
Pause.
“I said no.”
He tossed a folder onto the table.
“Then move the meeting.”
Pause.
“I don't care if Legal asked for it.”
Amara kept cleaning.
Richard saw her.
He turned away slightly.
“Hold on.”
Then to Amara:
“Who authorized cleaning during prep?”
She looked up.
“Facilities.”
He glanced at her name tag.
“Maya.”
“Yes.”
“You need to finish before people arrive.”
“I will.”
He looked around.
“Water?”
“Already set.”
“Ice?”
“In the service pantry.”
He frowned.
“Then why aren't the pitchers filled?”
“They’ll be filled at eight fifty-five so the ice doesn't melt.”
He stared.
For one second, something like surprise appeared.
Then irritation.
“Just fill them now.”
Amara held his gaze.
“Of course.”
She walked toward the pantry.
Richard returned to his call.
“Sorry.”
Then:
“No, just housekeeping.”
Amara heard it.
Just housekeeping.
She filled the pitchers.
Returned.
Richard had opened his laptop.
He did not look at her.
She placed the first pitcher near him.
He said:
“Not there.”
She stopped.
“Where would you like it?”
“Other side.”
She moved it.
“Anything else?”
He finally looked.
“Do you normally ask this many questions?”
Amara almost smiled.
“Only when I want to do something correctly.”
Richard gave a short laugh.
“Then learn the room before interrupting people.”
She nodded.
“Understood.”
At 8:48, the first executives arrived.
Three vice presidents.
Two directors.
Finance chief for Central Division.
HR representative.
Amara recognized everyone.
Nobody recognized her.
Or if they did, they did not show it.
One woman smiled at Amara and said:
“Good morning.”
Another walked past without looking.
A man handed her an empty coffee cup without asking whether she was collecting trash.
She took it.
Placed it on the cart.
The meeting began before nine.
Richard stood at the head of the table.