Nothing about the day made Cordelia think meeting Dr. Rochester—AKA Satan—this afternoon was a good idea. She woke up late and spilled coffee down her dress shirt. Since she was already running late to her seminar class, she had to just endure the disgrace of a stained shirt for the rest of the day. Her classes dragged, too. She got called on in her Complex Systems class while she was daydreaming about Dr. Satan and made an ass of herself in front of her classmates. She'd been humiliated enough by the time she found herself standing in front of the Syntex Labs facility.
The long, glass building stood contrary to the historic brick facades surrounding it. At the head of the building, the corners came together in a cement courtyard. A tall, sleek metal sculpture rose up seven or eight feet from the ground. It reminded Cordelia of an elongated horse rearing back on its hind legs but that might have been a stretch for the post-modernistic piece.
She hurried to the glass doors and nearly stumbled when they automatically swung open for her. The lobby was bright, flooded with sunlight pouring in from the glass ceiling, and decorated with white tile. Other modern renderings were spread around on pedestals or hung on the walls. There was a long white reception desk that Cordelia headed directly to, recalling Dr. Rochester's directions from his text that morning. Five people sat behind the desk with ear pieces in and they all wore white, asymmetrical pant suits. Cordelia wondered for a moment if she'd have to wear one. She just knew it would make her look like a hippo.
"Good afternoon, Miss," greeted one of the women behind the desk. "How may I help you?"
"Hi, um, I'm here to meet with Dr. Rochester."
"Do you have an appointment?"
Cordelia touched her hair nervously. "Yes . . ?"
The woman studied her with a less than pleasant look on her face. "Did you schedule an appointment with his assistant, Jim?"
"Well, no—"
"Then I'm afraid you'll have to call Jim and come back at a later time. Dr. Rochester only sees appointments. He's very busy."
"But I—"
"Here is Jim's business card," the woman said, cutting her off again.
Cordelia instinctively reached forward to grab it, her face hot with embarrassment. "Thank you," she told the rude woman.
As she turned away from the desk, a panty-dropping deep voice sounded from across the lobby. "Miss Webb."
Swiveling towards Dr. Satan's voice, she felt a strange sense of relief. He crossed the lobby to her and extended his hand for her to shake. She gulped and slipped her palm into his big one. Veins rippled under the tan skin of his hand. Her mind briefly imagined that tanned hand cupping her and the blush on her face deepened tenfold.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Rochester," she said.
He squeezed her hand firmly and directed her back in the direction he came. "If you will wait for me by that door," he told her, "I am going to have a quick word with Miss Leslie here."
Cordelia started towards the door but watched the interaction unfold over her shoulder. Dr. Rochester seemed even taller and broader than she remembered. His suit was tailored perfectly to the swell of his brawny shoulders and trim waist. He placed an arm on top of the desk and leered down at the woman Cordelia had spoken to. She couldn't hear his words but she could see his full lips in motion. Leslie's face progressively crumpled. As Dr. Rochester started back towards her, the woman gathered her purse and stood up from her chair. She appeared to be leaving.
A stone dropped in Cordelia's gut. Had he heard Leslie speaking to her? And he was firing her? God, how terrible. It wasn't really that big of a deal.
"Now that that's handled," he told Cordelia, placing a hand lightly on her waist, "let me show you to my office."
Swiping his hand across a sensor, Dr. Rochester nudged Cordelia out of the automatic door's path and then guided her into the expansive room beyond. Thirty or so individual desks were spread across the large room that people bounded back and forth between. No one was wearing those dreadful white outfits but they were in slacks and business skirts. A few passerby glanced their way, some even stealing double takes. Cordelia automatically moved closer to her new boss, half-hopeful his massive figure would shield her from their curious gazes. He kept a light touch on her waist as he led her across the room.
Cordelia continued to look around and take it all in. The ceiling in here was more translucent and dampened some of the sunlight coming through from above. The exterior wall was tinted glass as well but sprawling green space stretched beyond the windows, some sort of park with massive oak trees and park benches.
"My office is here," Dr. Rochester said, swiping his hand again to open a floor-to-ceiling white wooden door. It swung inwards to reveal a spacious private office with glass walls overlooking the larger room and the park outside.
He motioned for her to sit in the ivory ergonomic chair posted across from his tall-backed office chair. Cordelia shed her backpack and seated herself.
"Your facility is beautiful," she remarked. "I've never seen anything like it."
Lowering himself into the seat across from her, a small smile spread across his pink lips. "Thank you. I worked very hard to create a space conducive for creativity. It's important to me that my staff are happy and productive."
Cordelia though about Lillian and withheld a grimace. She couldn't imagine her roommate working in this environment. Everything was clean and tidy with a proper place. Lillian's bedroom looked like she had dragged a Spencer's store inside and blew it up.
"I followed up with your roommate—Lillian, right?" Dr. Rochester asked.
Her face drained of color. Was this man reading her mind? She nodded mutely, her wide eyes fixed on his. They had such a fierce, cutting edge to them. She could practically see the horned devil pacing behind them.
"Were you aware she resigned yesterday?" he asked.
"I found out last night," she admitted sheepishly.
"Yes, well, I anticipate that will not interfere with your work here, correct?"
She wet her lips. "Of course, sir. Lillian and I have . . . we operate differently."
"Glad to hear it. Her supervisor, David, had a slew of things to say about her."
Oh, God. Cordelia wanted to vanish. She should've just not said anything yesterday. What were the chances Lillian was fired the day she secured her internship.
Are these my red flags? she wondered. Maybe this was a bad idea. Did she need the money this desperately?
"Enough about that," he went on, placing a Manila folder in front of her. "Here are a few documents I need you to sign. The first one is an intern agreement. The others are confidentiality statements. Essentially, you cannot speak to anyone about what is done when you are working. Not a word. We will be working with experimental data and software that cannot be leaked beyond these walls. Understood?"
Cordelia ran her tongue along the seam of her mouth. His eyes dropped to follow the action, his jaw ticking.
"Yes, sir," she replied.
Dr. Rochester placed a wood grain gel-point pen on top of the folder. "Excellent. Please glance through these and sign."
She stared down at the thick folder and swallowed. She wished she could take these home and pore over them but that didn't seem to be an option. Instead, Dr. Rochester was going to watch her like a hawk. Picking up the pen, she opened the folder and glanced over the top document. She didn't see anything alarming, mostly just a record of her hourly wage, a vague outline of her responsibilities, and standards for Syntex Labs employees. She signed the line with a flourish and turned the page. Her eyes darted up to Dr. Rochester and found him still broodily observing her.
Just to get his attention off of her, she rushed through the remaining documents and pushed the folder back to his side of the desk. That obscure smirk flashed briefly across his lips before disappearing entirely.
"Excellent," he said. "Now that the papers are done, do you have time for a facility tour?"
"There's more?" she asked without thinking, astonished.
He chuckled. "Yes, Cordelia. There's more. Is 'Cordelia' what you prefer?"
"I prefer it but Del or Delia is fine too."
"What do you friends call you?"
Her mouth pursed thoughtfully. "Del or Cordelia."
"Cordelia it is," he decided. "You may call me Evan."
The look of surprise on her face earned another brief smile. Evan? It almost sounded too domestic for the hulking man sitting across from her.
He rose from his seat and lifted an arm towards the door. "Shall we?"
She jumped up and smoothed her hands over the rump of the skirt. Skirts were not her forte, but Lillian had warned her to dress professionally. As much as the loathed the restraining article, she was glad she'd worn it. She would've felt even more out of place otherwise.
While Cordelia pulled her backpack over her shoulders, huffing a quiet grunt at its weight, she followed Dr. Rochester to the door. It opened automatically at their proximity. They walked straight out of the office and down a corridor. She was relieved that they weren't passing through the big room again. She hated all the attention of being a new person.
The corridor featured electronic boards along the entire wall interior wall with floating Syntex logos. The other side featured more windows looking out at the city.
"Managers and C-level employees have their offices in this hall," Dr. Rochester explained, gesturing to a few white wood doors they passed with brass name plates. "You likely won't come down here unless I have a specific errand for you."
She didn't know what a C-level employee was but she was too afraid to ask. At the end of the corridor, Dr. Rochester swiped his hand across a sensor and entered another large room. This one featured an entire wall of computer monitors. They all played different things ranging from the news to time graphs. There were more desks in this room but not nearly as many people inside. Cordelia caught the eye of an older man in a suit. She ducked her head immediately when he stared a second too long.
"Jim," called Dr. Rochester, half-startling the girl. "Come meet my new intern, Cornelia."
When she lifted her face, the older man was walking towards them. He extended his hand towards her with a wrinkled smile. She would've guessed he was in his fifties but she wasn't certain.
"Cornelia, this is my assistant, Jim," Dr. Rochester said.
The two strangers shook hands and Jim's brows rose at the firmness of her grip. She smiled slightly at him.
"We have been in need of you for awhile now, Miss Cordelia," he told her. "It's a pleasure to have you on the team."
"Thank you, sir."
Jim glanced up at Dr. Rochester's face before it fell back on her. "Jim is fine, lovely."
Her cheeks colored at the term of endearment. Dr. Rochester's touch on the center of her spine brought her out of the moment. The same dash of heat she'd felt each time before danced through her yet again at his contact.
"I will meet you in the conference room in fifteen," he told Jim. "Have my laptop and the file in there."
"Of course, sir." Jim nodded.
Dr. Rochester again guided her away. He launched back into their tour, but she couldn't help but steal a glance back at Jim. He was watching them with a strange, almost guilty look on his face. His featured snapped to a smile when their eyes met, but the gesture was forced. Another pit of anxiety sprouted in Cordelia's belly.
Her boss stepped to the side and effectively cut off her view of his departing assistant. "I would appreciate your full attention, Cordelia."
Straightening her posture, she swiveled her gaze ahead. "Yes, sir."
A grumbling noise of disapproval rolled out of his throat. "I'll show you to the break room now."
With that, Cordelia was guided out of the monitor room and into a neighboring space with pinball machines, yoga mats, an outdoor patio with a coffee bar, a Subway, and bean bag cushions everywhere. A few tables were set up but they were all empty.
"You will not be using this room unless you work over lunch," Dr. Rochester said, "but all of these rooms are available to you. I will have a badge made by your first shift so no one questions who you are."
His hand brushed along her back and though she was certain it was accidental, the brief touch sent her heart into a flurry. She swallowed back her gasp.
"Send me your schedule for the week and weekends," he told her. "I will devise your work schedule accordingly."
"My weekends?" she squeaked. Her eyes flew up to his.
"Sometimes I may need you to come in for a few hours on the weekends, yes." Looking down into her eyes, his jaw ticked again. "Will that be a problem?"
She sighed internally. "No, sir."
His expression softened and he looked at her with a peculiar glint in his eye. When he didn't say anything, Cordelia cleared her throat and looked back at the room.
"Would you like a drink or snack before I take you to HR?" he asked. She began to shake her head but he interrupted her. "When did you eat last?"
She thought about it before saying, "This morning for breakfast."
If she was being honest, she was a little hungry. She wasn't going to admit that to her new employer, though.
"You must be hungry then," he assumed. "Do you like muffins?"
What the hell is this man trying to do? Cordelia wondered. God knows I don't look hungry. Her hands automatically fluttered down the padding on her belly and hips.
"I'm really alright—"
He started towards the kitchen in the corner and popped open a platter with muffins. "There's blueberry, cinnamon, and banana nut. What's your preference?"
She started to sigh but caught herself before he noticed. Well, she wasn't going to pass down a muffin or any sweet little nibble.
"Blueberry, please," she said.
He grabbed one with a napkin and brought it to her. His behavior flabbergasted her. Wasn't he supposed to be Dr. Satan? This felt like a trap but she couldn't understand how. Surely her employer wouldn't poison his brand new intern.
Cordelia accepted the bakery item and, when he just stood there and stared at her, she risked a quick bite from the top. Her eyes widened. Damn, she thought, this is delicious.
Dr. Rochester smiled with satisfaction. "Now, let's head to HR to get your biometrics."