Read Online Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) by Christina Ross - Free Book Online Page A

middle
of the day?   When traffic is at its
worst?”
    “With
ease.   And yet you blew it by five
minutes.   Some lackeys might think
that being five minutes late to anything isn’t a big deal—but I’m here to
tell you that, for me, it’s a very big deal.   And do you want to know why?”
    “I do.”
    “Because as I
told you when we first met, I loathe inefficiency.   Worse, because you were late, you’ve cut
into my lunch hour, which I won’t have.   Ever.   Today, I tested
you—and you failed.   Keep it
up and we’ll be having a parting of ways.”
    “I’m sorry that
I’ve disappointed you.”
    “I don’t have
time for apologies.   Just consider
yourself on notice.”   She held out
her hand.   “Give me the necklace.”
    I handed her
the bag, which she tossed onto the table behind her.
    “Now, my
lunch.   And let’s both say a silent
prayer that at least you came through with that for me, because at this point in my day, when I usually need to stab something,
it’s better if my fork lands in a pile of lettuce rather than a person,
wouldn’t you say?”
    Feeling as if I
had already been forked by her, I handed her the other bag, and then she just
looked up at me.  
    “Do you expect
me to remove the salad on my own?” she asked.
    She’s worse
than any story I ever read about her.
    As upset as I
was, I did my best to conceal how I was feeling and carefully removed the
large, clear plastic container that was inside the bag, along with two sealed
smaller cups, one of which had olive oil in it, and the other of which
contained balsamic vinegar.  
    “I was going to
pour each on the salad for you at Le Salade, but it’s so hot out right now, I
was afraid that by the time I got back here, the greens would have become
wilted and saturated with the liquid.”
    “Well,” she
said.   “At least you were thinking
there, even if there is a chance that the greens—especially the
spinach—have become shriveled-up versions of their former selves at this
point.   So, for your sake, let’s
hope that isn’t the case.   The
cover?”
    I removed it
and felt a flood of relief when I saw that everything appeared fresh and
crisp.   Meanwhile, Blackwell
inspected the contents.  
    “Too much
buttercrunch, not enough roquette, so keep that in mind.   Otherwise, the salad looks surprisingly
fine.   Who would have guessed?   And since you apparently need
instruction, why don’t you pour the oil and vinegar on for me, and I’ll tell
you when to stop so you’ll know exactly how I like it going forward?”
    “That would be
helpful,” I said.
    “Yes,” she
said.   “I suppose it would, wouldn’t
it?”
    When I was
finished, Blackwell glanced up at me.  
    “Close the door
behind you when you leave,” she said.   “For the next forty-one minutes—not the hour you’ve robbed me
of—it’s just going to be me and this salad.   And then I’ll open my door to let
everyone know that I’m back on for the day.   Intercept any calls—I’m not to be
disturbed, even by those on the list I sent to you earlier.   If Alex or Jennifer need me, they have
my direct line, so don’t worry about them.”
    “Of course.”
    “And Madison,”
she said when she removed a fork from her desk drawer and pierced a heap of
roughage with it.   “You’re likely
thinking that I’ve just been unnecessarily hard on you, but I can tell you that
I wasn’t.   I have very high
expectations from everyone I work closely with.   You are no exception.   As I said yesterday, mistakes will be
made, so consider this your first, princess.   Try not to make another.   Now go so I can eat.”

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
    When I left her
office and closed the door behind me, I felt alone and unnerved, and I was
trembling from our exchange.   There
was a moment when I felt certain that she was going to fire me.   And I had to wonder—if this is how
it was going to be with her, maybe it would have been best if