Page 1 of The Associate
Chapter 1
Samuel
The lobby of Voss & Wise smelled faintly of disinfectant and polished steel. Light from the high, recessed fixtures hit the floor in hard, even panels. Footsteps echoed in sharp, distinct patterns, quick and efficient, everyone moving with a purpose that suggested they had somewhere important to be.
Samuel paused just inside the towering glass doors, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the glare. He’d seen pictures of the building, done the virtual walkthrough, memorized the floor plan. None of it captured the reality. The place had a rhythm, a low, steady, demanding hum, and everyone inside seemed tuned to its frequency except for him.
A pair of associates in impeccably tailored navy suits strode past without a sideways glance. A secretary crossed the expansive floor with a thick stack of files balanced precisely against her chest, her heels click-clacking on the marble floor.
Samuel tightened his grip on his briefcase. Too tight; the leather handle bit into his palm. He consciously eased his hold, then wiped his fingers against the lining of his jacket where no one could see the faint sheen of sweat.
Nothing about his suit felt right. The shoulders were a little too stiff, the collar a fraction too warm and tight against his neck. He’d spent twenty minutes that morning ironing his shirt until the fabric lay perfectly flat, but wearing it now felt like stepping into someone else’s skin.
He headed toward the monolithic security desk, rehearsing his name in his head even though he knew it was unnecessary. The guard glanced up as Samuel approached.
“Name?” he asked, his tone neutral.
“Samuel Ruiz,” Samuel said, his voice holding steady.
The guard confirmed it on the screen, printed a temporary badge with a quiet whir, and slid it across the polished counter. “Sixteenth floor.”
“Thanks.” Samuel clipped the badge to his lapel, exhaled once, a sharp breath through his nose, and moved toward the bank of elevators.
The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime revealing the empty space, and Samuel stepped inside, grateful for the brief moment of privacy. His reflection stared back at him from a mirror occupying one of the walls, tie straight, hair in place, posture good enough, but his eyes betrayed the quiet strain he was trying to ignore.
He pressed the button for the sixteenth floor. Then he cleared his throat and tried out the lines he’d practiced on the walk over.
“Good morning, I’m Samuel…”
He stopped. It sounded too formal, too stiff.
He tried again, quieter this time, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Samuel Ruiz, new associate. It’s a pleasure…”
No. That was worse.
He exhaled through his nose and scrubbed his palm over the wool of his thigh, wiping away the sweat gathering there. His body always betrayed him faster than his mind did; a lesson he’d learned years ago and had never quite managed to unlearn.
He adjusted his collar even though it didn’t need adjusting, then straightened the edges of the file folder he carried, as if that simple action could settle the tightness coiling in his chest.
The elevator climbed floor by floor, the numbers above the door blinking. Each one brought a little more pressure, a slight tightening in his gut. By the twelfth, his palms were damp again. By the fourteenth, his heart was thudding too fast for how still he was forcing himself to stand.
He tried a different tactic, lowering his voice to a calm, measured tone.
Simple.
“Good morning. I’m Samuel Ruiz.”
That one at least sounded like him. Or like the version of him he was supposed to be now.
The elevator chimed again.
Sixteenth floor.
He flexed his fingers once, rolled his shoulders back just enough to release the tension, and stepped out into the corridor before he could allow himself to hesitate.
The floor felt different from the lobby; quieter, tighter, like the air itself was holding its breath. Plush, charcoal-gray carpeting muted all footsteps, and the floor-to-ceiling glass walls alongthe corridor made every office and conference room visible from the outside. No one lounged. No one glanced at their phone. Everyone moved with the same sharp purpose Samuel had seen downstairs, only here it was amplified, refined to a razor's edge.
