Page 150 of Mario
“Mr. Conti—”
“Entitlement,” I continue, “in thinking that you need access to my personal travel and compensation. Entitlement in thinking that you are somehow more capable of discerning whether the firm that I personally vetted and hired is doing the job correctly.”
His face pales. It’s one thing to barge into my office. It’s another entirely to imply I don’t know what I’m doing or that he somehow knows better than me.
“Entitlement in thinking I have nothing better to do than handle petty complaints from employees who have lost access to information they should not have had in the first place.”
What color was left in his face is completely gone.
The man may have some survival instincts yet
“I—no, sir. That is not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I only meant—”
“You came into my office without invitation.”
He goes still, like a deer finally scenting the hunter.
“You bypassed your department head after he gave you an answer you did not like.”
“I was trying to resolve—”
“You questioned a directive issued as part of a review I approved.”
His mouth closes.
“Everything Ms. Murray has done has been with my complete and total approval,” I say. “Every permission revoked. Every system restricted. Every question asked. She has the authority because I gave it to her.”
“Of course,” he stutters. “I understand. I-I-I apologize.”
“If you want complete access to my company, Mr. Hanley, then make me an offer. Otherwise,” I continue, voice quiet, “get the hell out of my office and go back to work.”
For a second, he does not move.
Then he remembers himself.
“Yes, Mr. Conti.”
He turns too quickly, his shoulder catches on the doorframe on the way out.
I watch the door close behind him.
The office is silent again, but I am no longer calm.
Anger and something else churn inside me, something that feels a great deal like the desire to hunt. To find him. To drag him back into this office.
To make an example of him.
To the office.
To the entire damn city, show them what happens to men who overstep.
I smell blood in the air, and the urge to spill it courses through me.
I breathe out slowly, letting it leave me.
