He followed her gaze.
Saw the cleaner standing by the wall.
Something irritated him.
Maybe the reminder that the people being discussed were physically present.
He turned toward Amara.
“Can you give us the room?”
The legal plan had anticipated this.
Amara said:
“I was told to remain through service.”
Richard frowned.
“By whom?”
“Facilities.”
“I’m telling you to leave.”
Amara looked toward the HR representative.
Then at Richard.
“I can wait outside.”
“Good.”
She reached for the cart.
Then Richard stopped her.
“Actually.”
Amara turned.
“The water.”
He pointed toward his glass.
“Fill it before you go.”
She walked over with the pitcher.
Filled his glass.
He watched her.
Not the water.
Her.
Something about her composure bothered him.
“You've been standing in here listening to confidential information.”
Amara set the pitcher down.
“I was assigned here.”
“That's not an answer.”
“What would you like me to say?”
Richard leaned back.
“That you understand confidentiality.”
“I do.”
“You signed an NDA?”
Amara almost laughed.
“I believe so.”
“You believe so?”
The HR representative said:
“Richard, facilities vendors all sign confidentiality agreements.”
He ignored her.
He looked at Amara.
“What agency?”
Amara gave the vendor name.
Richard pulled out his phone.
“I’m going to verify.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
Again.
Too calm.
The people around the table began looking uncomfortable.
Richard called someone.
No answer.
He ended the call.
“Where's your supervisor?”
“Elsewhere in the building.”
“What floor?”
“I’m not sure.”
Richard stood.
The room changed.
He walked toward Amara.
She remained still.
“What exactly have you been doing this morning?”
“Cleaning.”
“You've been wandering executive floors?”
“Assigned areas.”
“Who gave you this badge?”
“Security.”
Richard looked at the temporary badge clipped near her pocket.
Then at her face.
“Take it off.”
Amara’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“There.”
He pointed.
“That.”
“What?”
“The questions.”
He laughed without humor.
“Every instruction becomes a conversation.”
The HR representative spoke again.
“Richard.”
He held up one hand.
“No.”
“I’m tired of people acting like basic direction is oppression.”
Amara looked at him.
“Did I say that?”
“No.”
“But it's written all over your face.”
A few executives shifted.
One woman closed her laptop.
Not dramatically.
Deliberately.
Richard noticed.
That made him worse.
He looked toward Amara.
“You’re here to clean.”
“Yes.”
“Then clean.”
He pointed at the spilled water that had already been wiped.
Amara looked at the dry table.
“It’s clean.”
The room went silent.
Richard stared.
He picked up the silver water pitcher.
Someone inhaled sharply.
Amara saw what he was about to do before anyone else did.
She did not move.
Richard lifted the pitcher.
The HR representative stood.
“Richard, don't.”
Too late.